The Power Station Turns 40: Inside The High-Gloss Chaos Of The '80s Ultimate Supergroup

By the mid-1980s, both John Taylor and Andy Taylor had a problem. Their band Duran Duran had conquered the world, selling out arenas and dominating MTV with their high-gloss pop aesthetics. But for the band’s rhythm section and lead guitarist, something was missing. John wanted to explore the funk foundation that powered his bass playing. Andy wanted to unleash the hard rock guitar heroics that Duran’s synth-driven sound kept tightly leashed. The solution? Take a hiatus and form a supergroup that would let them play the music Duran Duran wouldn’t.

The result was The Power Station, and four decades later, Rhino Records is celebrating the band’s explosive 1985 debut with deluxe reissues that prove this wasn’t just a vanity project between album cycles. This was a genuine collision of styles that rewired the mid-80s sound and influenced everyone from INXS to the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

When the Taylors (no relation, despite the shared surname) started plotting their side project in late 1984, they knew exactly who they needed: Tony Thompson, the powerhouse drummer from Chic. Thompson was the “disco clock” behind countless hits, but he was also one of the most technically gifted drummers in any genre. His ability to bridge the funk with rock and post-punk  made him the perfect foundation for what the Taylors had in mind. For the producer role, they recruited Thompson’s Chic partner Bernard Edwards. 

While Edwards was a world-class bass virtuoso and sonic architect himself, his primary contribution here was bringing discipline, arrangement skills, and an understanding of how to make dance music hit like a freight train. This left John Taylor free to focus on exploring the heavy funk foundation that powered his own bass acrobatics, proving he could hold his own alongside the Chic heavyweights.

The vocalist slot proved trickier. Originally conceived as a revolving door project with different singers on each track, everything changed when they invited Robert Palmer to sing on Communication. Palmer heard their cover of T. Rex’s Get It On (Bang A Gong) and asked to try vocals. One take later, they had their frontman. Palmer was the perfect counterpoint to the band’s muscular sound: sophisticated, blue-eyed-soul vocals wrapped around electro-funk arrangements. 

The band took its name from the legendary New York studio where they recorded, a fitting choice for a project that felt more like a sonic experiment than a traditional supergroup cash-in.

Robert Palmer and John Taylor in 1985

The Power Station’s self-titled debut, released in March 1985, was distinctive in several ways. This was Andy Taylor unleashed, delivering crunchy hard rock bits that had no place in Duran Duran’s carefully curated aesthetic. Thompson’s drumming hit like he was pounding on upturned bins with hammers, creating that massive gated reverb sound that engineer Jason Corsaro had pioneered on David Bowie’s Let’s Dance. Meanwhile, Bernard Edwards’ production added layers of synths and horns, giving everything a glossy sheen without sacrificing the raw power underneath.

Palmer’s vocals provided a sophisticated sheen. Where the music was aggressive and punchy, Palmer remained cool and controlled, almost like a Rat Pack crooner. Somehow, the combination worked a charm, and the album had something for everyone. The opening track and lead single Some Like It Hot reached number six on the Billboard Hot 100. The band’s reinvention of T.Rex’s standard Get It On (Bang A Gong) became an MTV staple.

While the production is slick and polished, the album wears surprisingly well without sounding dated. The mix of rock, post-punk synths, and classic R’n’B gives it a somewhat timeless feel. A few tracks really stand out. Some Like It Hot is the ultimate statement of intent, opening with Tony Thompson’s thunderous drum intro before John Taylor’s slapping bass line takes over. Covering a T. Rex classic like Get It On (Bang A Gong) was a bold move, but the band turned the glam-rock anthem into a heavy, electro-funk romp that showcases Andy Taylor’s overdriven riffs. Communication is the closest thing to a Duran Duran track, with its layered synths and punched-up rhythm section highlighting Palmer’s smooth vocal delivery. Finally, Murderess stands out as one of the heavier tracks with a massive staccato riff and arena-rock stylings that quickly became a live favorite.

The album hit number six in the US and number 12 in the UK. For a side project thrown together during a hiatus, this was a major success. Critics who’d dismissed Duran Duran as lightweight teen-pop had to reckon with the fact that the Taylors could deliver the rock when given the chance.

The Power Station performing on SNL in February 1985

The momentum came to a sudden halt on February 16, 1985, when the band appeared on Saturday Night Live. It was the only time the original lineup would ever play live, and it turned out to be their last. A few months later, with the album climbing the charts and a massive tour on the books, Palmer quit just one week before the first show.

While Palmer officially said he wanted to focus on his own solo career, those closer to the band saw a messier picture. Sources within their inner circle at the time described John and Andy as being “out of control,” caught up in the wild excess and partying that epitomized the era.

According to these accounts, Palmer grew nervous after taking a peek at the tour’s spending. He reportedly spotted large sums of cash earmarked for dubious miscellaneous items that may or may not have been completely above board. Potentially surmising a trainwreck in the making, he headed to Nassau to record Riptide, using the buzz from The Power Station to launch himself into solo superstardom with Addicted To Love. Whether you see it as a betrayal or just playing it smart, his exit changed the band’s trajectory forever.

Ex-Silverhead singer Michael Des Barres was hanging out with his friend and Miami Vice star Don Johnson when he got a mysterious call: fly to New York immediately to audition for an unnamed band desperate for a frontman. When Des Barres finally arrived to meet the group, the atmosphere was thick with tension. He found John Taylor and Tony Thompson visibly anxious, clearly aware that with a massive tour looming and the band’s sudden popularity, there was an incredible amount of professional and financial pressure on the line. One whirlwind audition later (which included a same-night Concorde flight to London to meet Andy Taylor), Des Barres was in. Then out, when Palmer briefly agreed to return. Then, he was in again 24 hours later.

Des Barres had 10 days to rehearse 30 songs before the band’s first scheduled performance: Live Aid. On July 13, 1985, Des Barres walked onstage at Philadelphia’s JFK Stadium in front of 100,000 people and a television audience of 1.9 billion. It was only his second public appearance with the band. They opened not with a hit but with the album cut Murderess, specifically to showcase Andy Taylor’s guitar work. Someone in the crowd threw a bucket of water at Des Barres. He dodged it. It hit John Taylor instead.

The tour continued through August, including a performance at Philadelphia’s Spectrum on August 21 that had never been officially released until now. The band even appeared on an episode of Miami Vice thanks Des Barres’ friendship with Johnson, but interest in the band without Palmer began to wane. By late 1985, The Power Station was done. John Taylor returned to Duran Duran. Andy Taylor went solo. The party was over.

The Power Station's 'Get It On' tour lineup without Robert Palmer

In 1996, The Power Station reunited with the original four members to record a second album. John Taylor contributed to writing and arranging but dropped out before recording began, entering rehab. Bernard Edwards stepped in on bass and production, bringing the same funk precision that had made the first album special. The result, Living In Fear, was released on September 30, 1996, to mixed reviews and poor sales. Grunge had made the band’s brand of glossy electro-funk-rock feel like a relic from another era.

But the real tragedy came months before release. On April 18, 1996, while touring Japan with Chic, Bernard Edwards died of pneumonia. He was 43. The album was dedicated to his memory. In 2003, both Robert Palmer and Tony Thompson died within months of each other, marking the definitive end of The Power Station story.

Rhino’s recent reissue package comes in two formats. The four-CD box set includes the newly remastered original album, raw instrumental versions from the studio sessions, single remixes, and the band’s Live Aid performance with Des Barres. The real treasure lies in discs three and four: the complete, previously unreleased August 21, 1985, Spectrum show, remixed for maximum clarity. While Des Barres’ whiskey-soaked style differs a bit from Palmer’s polished presentation, the show highlights the band’s rawer side in spades. 

The two-LP vinyl edition features the remastered album plus bonus material on thick black vinyl, making for a warm, earthy listening experience. Both packages include new interviews with John and Andy Taylor by music journalist John Earls, offering a fresh perspective on a project that, despite its brief lifespan, left an outsized impact on ’80s modern rock.

The Power Station as a trio without John Taylor in 1996

The influence of The Power Station extends far beyond their brief run on the charts. They essentially pioneered the high-impact fusion of hard rock and heavy funk that became a dominant sound in the years that followed. You can hear their musical DNA in the heavy, rhythmic rock of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, as well as the way alternative bands began layering danceable grooves into their guitar-driven songs. By proving that arena-rock muscle could coexist with dance-floor grooves, they opened the door for a new era of crossover success in the late ’80s and early ’90s.

The Power Station also proved that Duran Duran’s musicians weren’t just new-wave, boy band refugees playing predictable parts. Andy Taylor surprised many with his solid rock licks, while John Taylor’s bass work could stand alongside anyone’s. They just needed the right situation to prove it.

For collectors and fans of defining mainstream ’80s albums, Rhino’s reissue is essential. The Power Station burned bright and burned fast, leaving behind one strong artifact, an ill-fated reunion, and even a Live Aid performance, something that still stands as a crowning achievement, even if it wasn’t the band everyone expected. Alas, for a band that seemingly had everything, they just couldn’t seem to keep the timing right, in spite of a killer groove.

Jim Kaz (New Noise Magazine - March 2026)