It’s 1983. You’ve got a walkman, a can of hairspray, and a synth hook stuck in your brain that feels like it’s vibrating at a different frequency than anything else on the radio. That hook belongs to Lies Lies Lies Thompson Twins, or just "Lies" if you’re being pedantic about the official track listing. It’s a weird song. Honestly, it’s a chaotic masterpiece of New Wave production that shouldn't have worked as well as it did, yet it became the definitive moment when the band pivoted from a sprawling seven-piece collective into the sleek, hit-making trio we remember.
Most people think of the Thompson Twins and picture the "Hold Me Now" era—all soft sweaters and radio-friendly yearning. But "Lies" was different. It was aggressive. It was paranoid. It was basically a giant middle finger wrapped in a shiny, plastic pop aesthetic.
The Shift from Post-Punk to Global Pop
Before Lies Lies Lies Thompson Twins hit the charts, the band was a bit of a mess. Tom Bailey, Alannah Currie, and Joe Leeway weren't the whole story. Early on, they were a massive troupe with multiple percussionists and a gritty, post-punk edge that felt more like Public Image Ltd than Duran Duran. But then came Quick Step and Side Kick. Producer Alex Sadkin, who had worked with Grace Jones at the legendary Compass Point Studios, stepped in to trim the fat.
He didn't just trim it; he cauterized it.
Sadkin helped the core trio realize that they didn't need seven people to make a big sound. They just needed the right technology and a killer hook. When they recorded "Lies," they were leaning heavily into the Oberheim OB-Xa synthesizer and the Prophet-5. If you listen closely to the layering, it’s a masterclass in early 80s MIDI-less synchronization. They were playing these parts by hand, or using primitive sequencers that felt alive because they were slightly, beautifully imperfect.
The song actually reached Number One on the Billboard Dance/Club Play chart. Think about that for a second. This wasn't just a pop song; it was a club banger in an era when "club" meant the gritty, neon-soaked floors of New York and London. It crossed over because it had a groove that felt mechanical yet human.
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Why the Lyrics Still Feel Relevant (and Kinda Creepy)
Let’s talk about the "lies" themselves. Tom Bailey’s delivery is almost accusatory. "Lies, lies, lies, yeah / They’re gonna get you." It’s not a love song. It’s a song about gaslighting before we really used that word in common parlance. Alannah Currie, who wrote most of the lyrics, had a knack for tapping into a sort of urban anxiety.
The song captures that feeling of being overwhelmed by misinformation. In 1983, that meant tabloid headers and television static. In 2026, it feels like a prophecy of the internet. You've got these layers of vocals—some whispered, some shouted—that mimic the feeling of a crowded room where you can’t trust a single person.
The Music Video’s Fever Dream Energy
If you haven't seen the video recently, go find it. It’s a trip. It features the band in a giant, oversized room with surrealist props. There’s a giant tongue. There are giant ears. It’s literalism taken to a psychedelic extreme.
- The giant ears represent the "walls have ears" paranoia of the lyrics.
- The bright, primary colors hide the darker undertones of the song.
- The exaggerated movements of Joe Leeway and Alannah Currie provide a theatricality that most bands were too "cool" to attempt back then.
They weren't trying to be gritty rockers. They were playing characters in a pop-art play. This visual identity was crucial for their success on MTV, which was basically the only thing that mattered if you wanted to break into the American market.
The Technical Brilliance of the "Lies" Production
Synthesizers in the early 80s often sounded thin. Not here. The bassline in Lies Lies Lies Thompson Twins has a weight to it that rivals modern synth-wave. Tom Bailey wasn't just a face; he was a multi-instrumentalist who understood how to stack frequencies.
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They used the E-mu Emulator, one of the first affordable samplers. Those "hey!" stabs and the percussive "clack" sounds throughout the track? Those were samples. In 1982 and 1983, that was cutting-edge tech. It gave the song a "found object" feel, like they had assembled a hit out of scrap metal and high-end electronics.
Interestingly, the "Twins" weren't twins at all. None of them were related. The name came from the Tintin comics (Thomson and Thompson). That choice alone tells you everything you need to know about their vibe: they were outsiders pretending to be a unified front. "Lies" was the perfect debut for that persona. It was a fake name for a band singing about fakes.
The Chart Run and Legacy
"Lies" was the lead single from Quick Step and Side Kick (released as Side Kicks in the US). It peaked at number 30 on the Billboard Hot 100, which doesn't sound like a massive smash compared to "Hold Me Now," but it stayed on the charts for weeks. It laid the groundwork. It proved that a British synth trio could command American airwaves without sounding like a carbon copy of The Human League.
Critics at the time were sometimes dismissive. They called it "disposable." But distance gives us perspective. While other 80s tracks sound dated because of their gated reverb drums, "Lies" sounds intentional. It’s "art-school pop" that actually managed to be popular.
The song’s influence is everywhere now. You can hear its DNA in bands like The Killers or even the more synth-heavy tracks from Taylor Swift’s Midnights era. It’s that blend of a paranoid lyric with a danceable beat. It’s the "dance while the world burns" aesthetic that never really goes out of style.
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What Most People Get Wrong About the Band
People lump the Thompson Twins into the "one-hit wonder" category, which is objectively insane. They had a string of Top 10 hits. But "Lies" is often the one that gets skipped on the "Best of the 80s" playlists in favor of the slower ballads. That’s a mistake. "Lies" is the band at their most creative and least compromised.
They weren't just a pop group; they were a production powerhouse. Tom Bailey eventually moved into dub music and world music fusion, which makes total sense when you listen to the rhythmic complexity of "Lies." The guy was a gearhead. He was obsessed with how sound occupied space.
How to Listen to "Lies" Today
If you want the real experience, don't just stream the radio edit. Look for the 12-inch extended remix. The 80s was the golden age of the 12-inch single, and the Thompson Twins were masters of the format. The extended version of Lies Lies Lies Thompson Twins lets the groove breathe. You get more of those weird synth textures and a deeper dive into the percussion.
It’s also worth checking out the live versions from their 1984 tour. Despite being a "synth band," they brought a massive amount of energy to the stage. Joe Leeway, in particular, was a phenomenal performer who brought a physical, almost athletic energy to these electronic tracks.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Collectors
If you're looking to dive deeper into the world of the Thompson Twins or 80s New Wave production, here’s how to do it right.
- Seek Out the Vinyl: The original US pressing of Side Kicks is usually cheap in dollar bins but sounds incredibly punchy. The analog mastering handles the synth peaks much better than early CD transfers.
- Study the Producer: If you like the sound of "Lies," look up Alex Sadkin’s other work. He produced Duran Duran’s Seven and the Ragged Tiger and the soundtrack work for Rocky IV. You'll start to hear the "Sadkin Sound"—it’s that crisp, expensive-sounding percussion.
- Check Out Tom Bailey’s Solo Work: He’s still active. His 2018 album Science Fiction is a direct spiritual successor to the synth-pop of the 80s. It’s not a nostalgia trip; it’s a continuation of the sound he pioneered with "Lies."
- Analyze the Arrangement: If you’re a musician, try to strip the song down. You’ll find that the "Lies" hook is actually quite simple, but the syncopation—the way the vocals hit off-beat from the bass—is what makes it catchy.
The Thompson Twins might be a memory for some, but "Lies" remains a vibrant, jittery piece of art. It’s a reminder that pop music can be weird, cynical, and incredibly fun all at the same time. It’s not just a song about deception; it’s a song that captures the frantic energy of an era that was changing faster than people could keep up with.
Go back and give it a loud listen. The "hey!" might just startle you all over again.