Morning Television, Enduring Fire: Noddy Holder, Slade, and the Spirit of Run Runaway
In 1984, British morning television briefly became a meeting point between pop history and living momentum when Noddy Holder appeared on TVAM to promote Slade’s single Run Runaway. What unfolded was more than a routine promotional interview. It was a revealing portrait of a band that had survived fashion, failure, reinvention, and time itself, led by a frontman whose warmth and honesty made that survival feel not calculated, but earned.
Introduced as one of the grand old men of British pop despite being only in his mid thirties, Noddy Holder greeted the early hour with humor and candor. His exchange with host Nick Owen immediately set the tone. Relaxed, self aware, and quietly proud, Holder spoke not like a star chasing relevance, but like a working musician still deeply connected to why he began. Slade, after all, had already been together for eighteen years by that point, an extraordinary lifespan in an industry known for rapid rise and sudden collapse.
Holder attributed the band’s longevity to something refreshingly simple. They still enjoyed playing together, and they still felt the rush of standing in front of an audience. There was no mythmaking, no dramatic narrative of brotherhood. In fact, he openly admitted the band members did not socialize much offstage. What bound them was the stage itself, the feedback loop between band and crowd, and the shared electricity that came alive when the music started.
That connection to the audience had always defined Slade. From their early days playing to skinhead crowds in ballrooms and clubs, audience participation was never an afterthought. It was the point. Holder spoke about tearing down the barrier between performer and listener, about needing that response to play at their best. Even on television, with streamers flying and the studio buzzing, that sense of unruly joy was unmistakable.
The interview also touched on Slade’s complicated journey through the late seventies. After dominating the charts with multiple number one singles, the band deliberately stepped away from the familiar and chased the one market they had not conquered. America. The move cost them visibility at home. Punk arrived, trends shifted, and Slade suddenly found themselves unfashionable and forgotten by parts of the British public. Holder spoke of returning to clubs and universities, rebuilding patiently, waiting for their moment to return.
That moment came quietly but decisively. While Slade never cracked American radio on their own terms, their songs found new life through others. Quiet Riot’s explosive success with Come On Feel the Noize reignited interest and proved the strength of Slade’s songwriting. By 1984, tides were turning again. New deals were signed, confidence restored, and Run Runaway arrived not as a comeback gimmick, but as a statement of renewed energy.
With its violin driven hook and folk infused rock pulse, Run Runaway sounded unlike anything else on British radio at the time. Holder described its origins with affection and humor, recalling filming the video near Worcester, early morning shoots, sleepless nights, and the familiar chaos that always seemed to follow Slade wherever they went.
Watching Noddy Holder on TVAM that morning, one thing became clear. Slade endured because they never stopped enjoying what they did. Not the fame, not the fashion, but the feeling. Run Runaway was not an escape. It was a declaration that the fire was still burning, and that Slade, against all odds, were still very much in the game.