The amazing regularity with which artists who rose from the tumultuous and revolutionary ’60s had a hard time in the go‑go ’80s is about the most certain trope there is in pop culture. Of those who survived and were still making music in the ’80s, it might be easier to count the ones who did not have a hard time. Like the 1960s, the 1980s brought seismic cultural shifts that the previous generation just had a hard time adapting to. The punk revolution of the previous decade had cemented itself into the culture, and the rise of MTV required artists to have a visual presence where they hadn’t before. The cursed decade 10 therefore became a relentless test for ten classic rock titans, each of whom stumbled in its own spectacular way.
cursed decade 10: The Unlucky Legends
10 1992
David Bowie stands out as the outlier that proves just how tenacious the cursed decade 10 truly was. Though he entered the later end of the ’60s and possessed an MTV‑ready visual flair well before the medium exploded, the 1980s still managed to throw a wrench into his otherwise meteoric trajectory.
Bowie kicked off the new decade on a high note, delivering Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) – an album that matched the daring of his ’70s output. After a three‑year hiatus spent polishing his acting résumé, he returned with the blockbuster Let’s Dance, a record that vaulted him into global pop‑rock superstardom.
Unfortunately, the very success of Let’s Dance became a double‑edged sword. The album forced Bowie into a pop‑rock persona that felt alien to his artistic core. The follow‑up releases, Tonight and Never Let Me Down, suffered from a rote, uninspired feel, and Bowie himself later admitted that recording Never Let Me Down was a mistake.
He eventually reclaimed his footing in the ’90s, but only after confronting his past catalog and shedding the commercial veneer that the cursed decade 10 had thrust upon him. It wasn’t until the 2000s, when he fully embraced his legacy, that Bowie truly emerged from the 1980s shadow.
9 1989
The Rolling Stones began the 1980s with a bang, thanks to Tattoo You and its iconic single “Start Me Up,” which seemed to define the band for a new generation. Yet, behind the scenes, producer Chris Kimsey revealed that the album was essentially a patchwork of outtakes and unfinished instrumentals, with Mick Jagger slapping lyrics onto them because he and Keith Richards were “going through a period of not getting on.”
This interpersonal friction persisted through 1986’s Dirty Work. The recording sessions were riddled with animosity, largely fueled by Richards’ irritation over Jagger’s burgeoning solo career, which created a palpable tension that bled into the music.
By 1989, the band chose to set aside their grievances in favor of a highly lucrative stadium tour, proving that money can indeed smooth over creative differences. The cursed decade 10 finally loosened its grip as the Stones reconvened for profit‑driven harmony.
8 1992
Bob Dylan’s low point in the cursed decade 10 stemmed from a singular, polarising event: his 1979 evangelical conversion. Though his earlier work already hinted at religious themes, this sudden, zealous turn manifested in a fundamentalist attitude that shocked fans.
In 1980, Dylan famously warned a Tempe, Arizona audience that they’d go to hell for listening to Kiss, then delivered a rambling, paranoid sermon in Hartford about “homosexuals” in politics. These controversial statements, coupled with his 1979 album Slow Train Coming, alienated many long‑time supporters.
The evangelical phase ended with 1983’s return to secular material on Infidels, yet the lingering fallout from those three tumultuous years cast a long shadow over the rest of the 1980s and into the early ’90s. The cursed decade 10 thus marked a period of reputational damage for a once‑revolutionary voice.
7 1988
Neil Young arguably weathered the cursed decade 10 best of the lot, even turning his nadir into a personal triumph. The early ’80s saw him release two wildly divergent albums: the proto‑grunge, punk‑infused Re·ac·tor and the synth‑laden, sci‑fi concept Trans, both of which displayed his willingness to experiment.
After signing with Geffen, Young offered the label a country‑styled record, only to be rebuffed in favor of a “rock” album. In a moment of defiant sarcasm, he delivered Everybody’s Rockin’, a short, 25‑minute record that Geffen deemed a rebellious act. The label’s fury led them to lock Young out of the studio, and the album was released in a raw, unfinished state.
Geffen subsequently sued Young for producing music that was “musically uncharacteristic” of his previous work. Ironically, Young’s low period concluded when he finally severed ties with Geffen five years later, freeing himself from the constraints of the cursed decade 10.
6 1989
Elton John’s cursed decade 10 is peculiar because it contains as many peaks as valleys. The slump began in 1979 with Victim of Love, a disco‑infused 7‑inch remix of Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” The era also produced his self‑described worst effort, 1986’s Leather Jackets, and the 1982 release Jump Up, which lyricist Bernie Taupin dismissed as “a terrible, awful, disposable album.”
Nonetheless, 1983’s Too Low for Zero emerged as the best album any artist on this list managed during the cursed decade 10. Additionally, his 1986 live album with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra remains essential listening, while 1989’s Sleeping with the Past offered a quiet, understated beauty that belied the surrounding turmoil.
The root cause of John’s uneven years was drug abuse. Both John and producer Gus Dudgeon confirmed that the making of Leather Jackets was a coke‑fueled disaster, with John noting, “Gus Dudgeon did his best, but you can’t work with a loony.”
5 1994
Whether Pink Floyd truly existed in the cursed decade 10 depends on which side of the fanbase you sit. The 1980s saw frontman Roger Waters split from the group, leaving guitarist David Gilmour to assume the mantle of leader. Fans, like children of divorced parents, found their loyalties divided.
The Waters‑less incarnation struggled to prove its worth until the triumphant 1994 release The Division Bell. Throughout the cursed decade 10, the band resembled a legal shell, trading on the Pink Floyd brand to sell tickets and records while grappling with internal disputes.
Roger Waters later labeled the Gilmour‑led version a “facile, but a quite clever forgery…,” a sentiment echoed by Richard Wright, who admitted that Waters’ criticisms were fair.
4 1989
The cliché that hungry avant‑garde innovators age into complacent, uninspired adults holds true for Lou Reed, whose 1980s output mirrored his earlier incendiary style yet veered into baffling territory. He released a tongue‑in‑cheek hip‑hop homage titled “The Original Wrapper,” followed by the oddly phallic “My Red Joystick.”
Instead of the daring art rock exemplified by Metal Machine Music, Reed’s 1980s catalog leaned toward cinematic, miserablest concept pieces like Berlin and the self‑penned “Black Angel’s Death Song.” The contrast between his prior work and the decade’s output was starkly comical.
As the New York Times observed in 1998, Reed had once been publicly gay, staged heroin‑shooting theatrics, and sported a “Dachau panda” look with peroxide‑blond hair and black eye‑circles. By 1980, however, he renounced drug‑laden theatrics, declared himself heterosexual, and settled into marriage, marking a dramatic personal shift that mirrored his artistic turbulence during the cursed decade 10.
3 2012
It’s a miracle the Beach Boys even existed at all during the cursed decade 10, yet they not only survived but secured a surprise number‑one hit with “Kokomo,” their first chart‑topper in two decades. Although “Kokomo” is often reviled, its unlikely success underscores the band’s resilience.
Key to their story was the absence of Brian Wilson, who was under the influence of therapist‑manager Eugene Landy. Landy forced Wilson to cut ties with the band and his family, even securing a 25% royalty cut from all Wilson‑written songs and naming himself chief beneficiary in Wilson’s will.
Simultaneously, brother and bandmate Dennis Wilson was forced into rehab. He struggled with homelessness, lost his ability to sing or drum, and tragically drowned at Marina Del Rey in 1983 after a day of heavy drinking and a desperate dive to retrieve personal items he’d previously tossed overboard. Dennis’s turbulent mental state was further entangled with his infamous friendship with cult leader Charles Manson, whose family had taken residence in Dennis’s home, sending threatening messages—including a bullet—before Dennis ultimately refused to testify against Manson out of fear.
2 007
The curse of the 1980s was so potent it even touched Led Zeppelin, a band that effectively ceased to exist after drummer John Bonham’s death in October 1980. Nevertheless, the group reunited twice during the cursed decade 10.
The first reunion occurred in 1985 for Live Aid, with Phil Collins stepping in behind the drums. The performance was so embarrassing that Jimmy Page and Robert Plant refused to have it included on the Live Aid DVD released in 2004. Plant’s falsetto sounded ragged, and Collins, according to Page, “didn’t know the numbers,” resulting in a lackluster rendition of “Whole Lotta Love.”
A second reunion took place in 1988 for the 40th anniversary of Atlantic Records. Poor sound mixing turned their normally massive compositions into thin, reedy tracks, and the iconic “Kashmir” oddly resembled a disco remix. It wasn’t until a triumphant one‑off show at London’s O2 Arena in 2007 that Led Zeppelin finally reclaimed a semblance of glory after the cursed decade 10.
1 997
The trials and tribulations of Black Sabbath throughout the cursed decade 10 could fill entire volumes. One vivid anecdote involves Jeff Fenholt—known for his role in Jesus Christ Superstar—who claimed he was the band’s lead singer between January and May 1985. Though no other member corroborated this, Fenholt detailed his tenure in the book Sabbath Bloody Sabbath: The Battle for Black Sabbath.
Sabbath’s revolving door of members during this era made it plausible that such an oddity could slip through unnoticed. After Ronnie James Dio quit in 1982, the band seemed doomed, yet two subsequent releases—Born Again (featuring Deep Purple’s Ian Gillan) and 1986’s Seventh Star (a Tony Iommi solo project)—were both issued under the Black Sabbath name due to record‑company meddling, despite sounding far from classic Sabbath.
Iommi’s presence on Seventh Star set a precedent: any lineup containing him could legally call itself Black Sabbath. Consequently, the 1980s and half of the ’90s saw the band limping along with ever‑changing line‑ups, never more than two original members on any record.
All the while, former frontman Ozzy Osbourne’s solo career surged, casting a long shadow over his former band. Black Sabbath finally found redemption in 1997 when they reunited with Osbourne at Ozzfest, an event that effectively turned the once‑dominant solo act into a side project for the band’s own revival.