One of my first Popservations entries chronicled my love for music countdown shows on the radio, but I faithfully followed TV’s takes when I was a kid, too. Saturday mornings meant America’s Top 10 with Casey Kasem, afternoons were scheduled around Dick Clark’s American Bandstand (more of a showcase for current and future hits than a literal countdown), but Saturday evenings were all about Solid Gold.

A child of a cable-less household, in the early ’80s Solid Gold was the place to see performances from top-shelf pop/rock artists, plus a video or two. Without MTV at home, Solid Gold filled the bill. Hosted by Marilyn McCoo and Rex Smith (there were others, but this golden duo shepherded the run I remember most), the show featured the top ten hits of the week. (Some so-called “hits” weren’t, in fact, big sellers; the Solid Gold list was based on radio airplay, as reported by Radio & Records magazine.)

What made the show truly fascinating to watch were the Solid Gold Dancers. This mostly female troupe interpreted the hits of the artists who hadn’t turned up to lip-sync that week, and sometimes served as backup dancers for those who did.

As an example of the latter, check out this clip of Toni Basil. While the one-hit wonder may not be so top-shelf in retrospect (she blew our minds oh-so briefly), her appearance remains a Solid Gold gem:

With my memory jogged thanks to You Tube, it seems the Solid Gold Dancers rarely performed such G-rated routines. This collection of risque clips from 1985 had me wondering how Solid Gold passed for family entertainment all those years ago. Maybe the return of original host Dionne Warwick and her sequined duds was meant to distract us from realizing things on screen were not so wholesome:

But if I learned anything from the Solid Gold Dancers, it was how to move to songs that have no inherent rhythm, beat, or real groove. Check out this clip featuring Jan Hammer’s “Miami Vice Theme” (at 2:06 in). But the really strange cherry atop this musical cheesecake had to be the comedy segments featuring Wayland Flowers and his bawdy-broad puppet-partner, Madame. Solid gay.

From 25 years ago (July 9, 1983), here’s Culture Club with “Time (Clock of the Heart).” Who’s playing the saxophone during the song’s instrumental break? Oh, that’s right. No one:

I think we’ve just uncovered the real reason why Boy George was recently denied entry into the U.S. Someone must have stumbled upon that footage while flipping through the file attached to his visa application.

Maybe the time is right to resurrect Solid Gold. Not only are musicians angling for any additional exposure they can get these days, a revival could serve an even more noble purpose: Giving the kids who don’t make it big on So You Think You Can Dance a way to put their idle feet to work. (That’s gold, Jerry!)