Sometimes you don't remember the first time you heard a song because of where you were going. You remember it because of everything that was happening around you. For me, that's Culture Club's “Time (Clock of the Heart).”
I was shopping for jeans one evening in a store called Jean King inside a strip mall. Nothing particularly exciting was happening. I was doing what little kids do: wandering around looking for something to wear, probably trying on more jeans than I intended to buy.
And then the weather changed. Outside, a huge thunderstorm had rolled in. You could hear the rain absolutely pouring onto the roof of the strip mall. That steady, heavy whoosh of water was loud enough that it became part of the soundtrack inside the store. Every now and then there was the rumble of thunder, and inside we were all temporarily stuck in this strange little bubble of fluorescent lights, clothing racks, and music. And then I heard it.
“Time (Clock of the Heart)” was released in 1982, right around the time Culture Club was becoming one of the biggest acts in the world. The group had already given us “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me,” and it didn't take long before Boy George became one of the most recognizable faces in popular music.
“Time” wasn't trying to be a huge dance-floor anthem. It was softer, more vulnerable, and almost strangely intimate. There was something about the combination of the gentle rhythm, the strings and Boy George's voice that made the song feel like a confession.
The song became a major hit in the U.K. and eventually reached the Top 5 in the United States. More importantly, it became one of those songs that seemed to live beyond the moment. You could hear it on the radio years later and instantly remember exactly what the early ’80s sounded like.
And then came “Karma Chameleon.”
That song would become the giant Culture Club signature, complete with its unforgettable video and bright, colorful imagery. But I've always thought “Time (Clock of the Heart)” deserved to sit right alongside it. That's part of what made Culture Club so fascinating. They could be colorful and flamboyant one minute and incredibly tender the next. Boy George had a visual presence that was impossible to ignore, but underneath all of it was a vocalist who could deliver vulnerability without making it feel forced.
They gave us something catchy enough to sing along with while quietly sneaking an emotional punch into the lyrics. I think that's why “Time (Clock of the Heart)” has aged so well. It's not tied to a particular hairstyle, fashion trend or piece of technology. The production certainly places it in the early ’80s, but the emotion is timeless.