The first encounter with The Flying Lizards’ track, “Money (That’s What I Want),” can be disorienting. Back in 1979, for a ten-year-old listening in Bletchley, it wasn’t immediately clear what to make of this rendition of money that’s what i want. It was unlike anything else on the radio, a far cry from more conventional tunes about, well, money that’s what i want.
From Motown to New Wave: Reimagining “Money”
Prior versions of the song, while known, didn’t quite resonate in the same way. My father owned The Beatles’ energetic cover on With The Beatles, though it wasn’t a frequently played record in our post-60s household. Barrett Strong’s original Tamla recording, a pivotal release for Berry Gordy and Motown’s early success in the US, had largely missed its mark in 1960s Britain, despite its catchy piano riff. These versions, while classic, lacked the peculiar edge that The Flying Lizards brought to the table when they declared money, that’s what I want.
Even now, The Flying Lizards’ version feels like a deliberately fractured cover, almost tossed off as a joke. It embodies the essence of a one-hit wonder, clearly echoing the minimalist synth-pop of M’s “Pop Musik,” which had been a chart-topper earlier that year. This wasn’t just a cover; it was a deconstruction. It’s like the song was fed through some kind of sonic analyzer, meticulously rebuilt yet consciously devoid of traditional soul. The result is a fascinating study in musical minimalism, a stark take on money that’s what i want.
This track serves as a potent reminder that cover songs don’t need to be reverent to their source material. Hearing The Flying Lizards’ avant-garde interpretation repeatedly over the years, it became clear how ingeniously they had deconstructed and satirized the original sentiment. It’s a plinky, clanky recording, deeply rooted in the new wave aesthetic of the era. Deborah Evans-Stickland’s utterly deadpan vocals, flatly reciting the lyric “money, that’s what i want,” propel the song to unexpected territories, far beyond what its original composer likely envisioned for their creation.
“Money (That’s What I Want)” as a Cultural Signifier
The ubiquity of The Flying Lizards’ “Money” in UK television is remarkable. Whenever broadcasters need a sonic shorthand for anything related to cash – specifically, money that’s what i want – this song, along with two others, invariably tops their playlist.
Pink Floyd’s “Money,” with its unmistakable clang of cash registers and transactional sound effects, is the obvious choice for illustrating spending. But for years, the Pet Shop Boys’ satirical “Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots Of Money),” a commentary on the “Loadsamoney” culture of the 80s, and The Flying Lizards’ enduring hit have been consistently overused. They are the go-to tracks for any footage depicting a stereotypical, perhaps slightly arrogant, yuppie flaunting their wealth. For program makers aiming for a heavy-handed ironic statement about money that’s what i want, these songs are reliable, if somewhat cliché, choices.
The Art-Pop Genesis of a Hit
Behind The Flying Lizards was record producer David Cunningham, a “master of studio decks, tape splicing, and the paraphernalia of recording.” Cunningham founded the band in 1976, driven by the idea to “get some musicians together and experiment with sounds.” In what could be considered one of the earliest examples of postmodern pop, this art-pop collective achieved a bizarre and highly improbable hit in 1979. Their minimalist mantra about money that’s what i want climbed to number five in the UK charts in the first week of September 1979, coinciding with Margaret Thatcher’s ascent to Downing Street and the dawn of a new era focused, for many, on money that’s what i want.
And as they say, the rest is history. The Flying Lizards’ “Money (That’s What I Want)” remains a fascinating artifact of a specific musical moment, a quirky and unforgettable take on a timeless desire: money, that’s what i want.
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