VAN HALEN
(Netherlands/US, three Top 40 hits, five Top 40 albums)

DUTCH-ROOTED rock demi-Gods put together by surname-donating brothers Eddie Van Halen (guitar) and Alex Van Halen (drums) who, oddly, started out playing each other's instrument as they ex-patted as California kids. Blowtorch-powered vocalist Dave Lee Roth added the lungs to the brothers' promptings, and quickly they gained a late 70s reputation for being a bit useful onstage, with the live performances always heightened by the axeman's awesome prowess with a plectrum, pedestalising him as one of the world's great guitarists. The albums sold hugely, the few singles on cursory offer did nothing until '84, when the synth-led "Jump" ("I get up, and nothing gets me down") shot to No.8, a position matched by the purposeful "Why Can't This Be Love" ("it's got what it takes") two years later. It seemed settled enough, with a nice commercial line complementing the cash from the tours and albums, but spats broke out and Lee Roth quit, ripping out just about all of the band's charisma. He was replaced by Sammy Hagar, and they struggled on until '88, but the bucket was already being given a good kick.

Biggest Hit: "Jump", "Why Can't This Love", both No.8, 1984 and 1986
Defining Moment: Underachievement.

LUTHER VANDROSS
(US, eight Top 40 hits, five Top 40 albums)

LARDY LEADING LIGHT of the decade's Yank soul boom, who we just edge out as the best of the genre's golden voices (Alexander O'Neal beats him) due to his inability to prevent his weight ballooning to something resembling a butter mountain in a sparkly jacket, which took up too much attention. But the glandular problem aside, this man could and can sing like a good 'un, a fact not lost on David Bowie and Bette Midler, for both of whom he exercised his throat as a back-up in the 70s. Once he went his own way, his regulation mixture of disco-undercurrent soul swingers and sincere ballads were good for the dough, though commercial success occurred less in the singles charts compared to the way his tours would sell out before the tickets had been printed. He would not have a Top 10 hit in the 80s, with only two songs giving him the prospect of a decent encore in the shape of the echoey and tuneful "I Really Didn't Mean It" and the storming "Never Too Much"  ("you are my shining star my guiding light my love fantasy"), a remix of which took him closest to the upper echelons when it found No.13 in '89, six years after the original version flopped. The 90s saw ups-and-downs with his dietary hazards (lithe and supple one year, gutbucket the next) and a massive hit alongside Janet Jackson on "The Best Things In Life Are Free", while he has written songs for all the great pacesetters of black music, such as Whitney Houston and Aretha Franklin. And of course, he was a legend in his homeland, winning countless Grammy and R&B awards while stacking up the platinum discs. He just never quite got what he probably merited here, with two Top 20 entries from fourteen releases telling its own disheartening
tale.

Biggest Hit: "Never Too Much", No.13, 1989
Defining Moment: Being big.

VANGELIS
(Greece, one Top 40 hit, three Top 40 albums)

BEARDED GREEK keyboard connoisseur whose greatest moment alongside his collaborations with Jon Whatsisface from Yes was the classic slow-motion grace of "Chariots Of Fire", with his swaying ivory tinklers adding the timeless soundtrack to the film of '81. Had he written nothing else in his entire life, he would still have been proclaimed a genius.

Biggest Hit: "Chariots Of Fire - Titles", No.12, 1981
Defining Moment: "Dum-dlum-da-da-daa-dlum, dum-dlum-da-da-da..."

VAPORS
(UK, one Top 40 hit, no Top 40 albums)

FIRST CLASS one hit wonders, this lot. The ridiculously likeable "Turning Japanese", a song about, ahem, facial contortion during the male hand-shandy climax, was a No.3 hit at the very start of the decade, and despite two half-hearted follow-ups, we never saw them again. Political correctness would stop that song being released now, though we bet Prince Philip had a right good giggle to himself

Biggest Hit: "Turning Japanese", No.3, 1980
Defining Moment: Boys checking their reflections as the baseball bat is oiled...

SUZANNE VEGA
(US, three Top 40 hits, two Top 40 albums)

HEADSCARFED, RECLUSIVE and slightly oddball folkie type of very understated vocal delivery over storytelling, journeyed acoustic numbers which were also skillfully listenable in pop factor terms. Her biggest hit of three was the cleverly de-structured "Marlene On The Wall", though she is best known for "Luka" ("if you hear something late at night, some kind of trouble, some kind of fight, just don't ask me what it was"), a heavy-hearted story of domestic violence with Vega singing in the first person, as she denied her own victimisation to a concerned neighbour. It was massively touching. A cranky acappella single called "Tom's Diner" bombed in '87 but was sent to No.2 three years later when producers DNA whacked a drumbeat behind it. Vega has been largely absent on a commercial level since, with her only recent appearance being, from memory, her performance of the line "feed animals in the zoo" on the BBC charidee version of "Perfect Day". Eccentric yet very, very gifted.

Biggest Hit: "Marlene On The Wall", No.21, 1986
Defining Moment: "My name is Luka, I live on the second floor..."

ROSIE VELA

(US, one Top 40 hit, one Top 40 album)

DRAWN A BIG fat blank on this one. The only hit was "Magic Smile" ("I've been dying to see you baby") in '87, which didn't set the world alight, though the album got a decent No.20 peak. Due to the absence of more singles, that strong placing would suggest a cultish late-night radio presence and fanbase. We're usually wrong when we make wild assumptions, however, therefore the floor is yours to alleviate our wrongdoing. THOMMO has more on that single...

"Production on this was by the blokes from Steely Dan. That top line "I've been dying to see you baby, I've been dying to kino-vay" has a great meaning. I heard her interviewed once (very horny) and she confessed that it was a love song written for her husband and the line was part of a secret code-language that they had when speaking to each other. Very sweet, until she revealed it translated as 'I've been dying to fuck yer brains out'!"

Bet she wears no knickers when she does it live, then. Er, we mean the song obviously...

Biggest Hit: "Magic Smile", No.27, 1987
Defining Moment: Wonder what the code is for 'fancy a bit of uphill gardening?'

MARIA VIDAL
(US, one Top 40 hit, no Top 40 albums)

ANOTHER FIRM candidate in the ever-expanding list of great one hit wonders (we'll have to narrow it down at some juncture), Vidal was a Yank rock chick whose sandblaster vocals delivered the outstandingly melodic "Body Rock" ("we're gonna turn this town upside down tonight, they can't stop us now") which hung around the No.11 spot for two weeks (with a then-rare gap of dropping one place for a week) but couldn't quite get higher, which remains a shame. It was from a film, but as movies were one thing we didn't bother with much in the 80s, we can't elucidate upon which flick it happened to be. Wouldn't mind knowing though. Vidal took her jet black perm and buggered off afterwards, leaving us with a legacy which will never be deemed unplayable.

Biggest Hit: "Body Rock", No.11, 1985
Defining Moment: "Let your body talk to me tonight..."

VISAGE
(UK, five Top 40 hits, three Top 40 albums)

PROBABLY THE epitome of tarted up blokedom of the early decade, in that their antics inspired many a bigoted, blinkered complaint from the 'real men' about their decision to wear the slap and act camp, while haunting Welsh singer Steve Strange got a fair amount of female admiration. They were an odd combo, as Strange's collective of backing musicians were only part-time, with other bands to put work into as well, but they found enough time to make a decent impact from late '80 onwards. Their videos were artistic and colourful, not to mention weakly gruesome, the best example being the flick which accompanied debut hit "Fade To Grey" ("one man on a lonely platform, one case sitting by his side") which had a ubiquitous vibrating undercurrent and some female French chanting. But the video was so of-its-time - Strange staring blankly, mouthing at camera with his face painted in halves and early 80s style special effects allowing his body to be 'cut' by long fingernails. The song was hugely acclaimed and made No.8. Scottish guitarist Midge Ure and keyboard player Billy Currie then vamoosed to channel their energies solely into Ultravox, and Strange (real name Steve Harrington) with his less well-known remaining companions struggled through a cult career, lacking in commercial melody but flooded in integrity, not to mention glamour. Three more Top 20 hits would follow before a day was called in the mid-80s. Strange still cuts a handsome figure and still dabbles, with a number of underground talents bearing the quality of his undoubted prowess as a frontman.

Biggest Hit: "Fade To Grey", No.8, 1980
Defining Moment: "Aaaaah-aaaaaah, we fade to grey..."

VOICE OF THE BEEHIVE
(UK/US, two Top 40 hits, two Top 40 albums)

QUIRKY, TRANSATLANTIC combo with two flowery sisterly female leads who harmonised the vocals on a short selection of slightly twee songs which cleverly shrouded a generous supply of astute musicianship. American vocalist Tracey Bryn formed the band after emigrating to London, inviting her sister Melissa across to co- warble, and roping in self-made studio wizard and guitarist Mike Jones and, crucially, ex-Madness drummer Daniel 'Woody' Woodgate. A few singles gained decent airplay and a starting point to build on, and they final got their break in '88 when the jingly "Don't Call Me Baby", named after some line uttered by Elvis Presley in a film, got to No.15.  A re-release called "I Say Nothing", a rewritten version which left out some saucy lyrics from the original which had stunted airplay,  followed it up to No.22, but the singles contribution for the decade just about ended there. The first album "Let It Bee" did good things, and the pun was tame compared to the one which would moniker their second album in '91. "Honey Lingers" was clearly going to receive the odd complaint from rhyming-slang haters and general prudes, but that year would turn out to be Voice Of The Beehive's best. Whimsical, glamorous and unrufflable (the two women could swear like few others) they were able to court controversy and always get away with it due to the quality of their songs and their insistence on being right. They did dress up a bit to idiotically, with a few Bee motifs a bit too fresh in the memory, but they were good for the cash.

Biggest Hit: "Don't Call Me Baby", No.15, 1988
Defining Moment: Consistency.