The Buggles - Wikipedia

About the Song

Remember the days when music was purely a sound? Before colorful images danced across your screen, there was radio. And then came The Buggles and their groundbreaking song, “Video Killed the Radio Star”. This catchy tune wasn’t just a catchy melody; it was a prophetic statement about the changing face of the music industry.

Released in 1979, “Video Killed the Radio Star” was more than just a song; it was a cultural touchstone. It arrived at the dawn of the music video era, when MTV was about to revolutionize how we consumed music. The song’s clever lyrics predicted this shift, playfully suggesting that the visual medium would soon overshadow the auditory one.

Created by the duo of Geoff Downes and Bruce Woolley, the song was a perfect blend of catchy pop hooks and a touch of clever wit. It was a time when electronic music was just beginning to make its mark, and “Video Killed the Radio Star” was one of the early pioneers of the genre. With its infectious synth melody and driving rhythm, it captured the spirit of the emerging new wave sound.

Beyond its musical brilliance, the song’s enduring appeal lies in its nostalgic value. It transports listeners back to a time of big hair, neon colors, and MTV’s constant rotation of groundbreaking videos. It’s a reminder of how rapidly the music industry evolved and how a simple song could accurately predict the future.

So, the next time you enjoy a visually stunning music video, take a moment to appreciate the song that heralded this new era. “Video Killed the Radio Star” is more than just a catchy tune; it’s a piece of music history that continues to resonate with audiences of all ages.The Buggles - JazzRockSoul.com

Video 

Lyrics: Video Killed The Radio Star

I heard you on the wireless back in ’52
Lying awake intently tuning in on you
If I was young it didn’t stop you coming through
Oh-a-oh

They took the credit for your second symphony
Rewritten by machine on new technology
And now I understand the problems you can see

Oh-a-oh
I met your children
Oh-a-oh
What did you tell them?

Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Pictures came and broke your heart
Oh-a-a-a oh

And now we meet in an abandoned studio
We hear the playback and it seems so long ago
And you remember the jingles used to go:

Oh-a-oh
You were the first one
Oh-a-oh
You were the last one

Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
In my mind and in my car
We can’t rewind, we’ve gone too far
Oh-a-a-a oh
Oh-a-a-a oh

Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
In my mind and in my car
We can’t rewind, we’ve gone too far
Pictures came and broke your heart
Put the blame on VTR…

You are the radio star
You are the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
You are the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
You are the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
You are the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
You are the radio star

Oh-a-oh, oh-a-oh…

You Missed

“I JUST WANT TO SING IT THE WAY I ALWAYS HAVE.” That’s what Toby Keith said. No dramatic pause. No swelling music behind the statement. Just a simple sentence delivered the way he delivered everything else in his life — straight and unpolished. And somehow, that simplicity made the room feel heavier than any grand farewell ever could. This final night wasn’t built around spectacle. There were no fireworks designed to distract from reality, no desperate swing for nostalgia. What filled the air instead was something steadier — grit. The kind that comes from songs that rode shotgun through people’s hardest seasons, songs that were there when nothing else quite knew what to say. You could hear the difference in the pauses. See it in the way the audience didn’t rush to clap, as if they were afraid to interrupt something sacred. Every lyric landed slower, deeper, not because he sang it differently, but because time had added weight to every word. These weren’t just melodies anymore. They were years. Memories. Battles fought quietly. It didn’t feel like a goodbye wrapped in sorrow. It felt like a man standing exactly where he had always stood — not retreating, not reinventing himself to soften the moment. Just singing it straight. Letting the songs do the heavy lifting. Trusting them to say the things he never needed to spell out. And maybe that was the most Toby Keith thing of all. No grand exit. No final speech. Just the music — steady, honest, and strong enough to carry everything.