ARBITRARY LISTS: The Top 10 Absolute Worst One Hit Wonders...EVER

You know the phrase “so bad, it’s good”? Yeah…that doesn’t apply to any of these songs. Sometimes there are one hit wonders you would think have another hit in them somewhere, but with these guys it’s pretty easy to see why they were such failures after their hit. Frankly, the fact that some of these even charted is enough to suggest that the human race is, in fact, a failing species. These are unscientifically non-proven to be the absolute worst one hit wonders in the history of both the UK chart and the Billboard chart in the USA of America.

There is some criteria, though: no novelty songs. If you’re wondering why Teletubbies and Disco Duck don’t appear, it’s because these are songs are by people actually trying to make a good record and failing, rather than trying to make a fast buck with a lame dance craze or cash-in on a popular ring tone (Crazy Frog has no place on ANY music-based countdown of any kind, thank you very much).

Brace yourself…it’s going to be a bumpy ride…

10. Afternoon Delight (Starland Vocal Band) [1976]

UK #18/US #1



One of the few songs ever written with no redeeming qualities whichsoever. What’s even more striking is the subject of the song. It’s about sex? Look at these people. I’m surprised they’ve even heard of sex. Apparently, they were relatively popular at the time in the US. They even had their own TV show. They didn’t have another real hit though. Thank Zeus.

9. Boom Boom (Let‘s Go Back To My Room) (Paul Lekakis) [1987]

UK #60/US #43



The lowest charter on the list, and coming over a decade before popular 90s Village People variant Vengaboys managed to figure out that “boom” rhymed with “room”, the HI NRG scene tossed out this. Like most dance music, it’s difficult to imagine actively listening to this in any other context other than it’s intended venue. In the case of most HI NRG, that means gay clubs in the 1980s. One look at Lekakis’ bare oily chest, tight white pants and thrusting pelvis tells you that they got that stereotype down to a T, to be fair. Electronic dance music in general is often quite hollow for me, so that alone means this is unlikely to appeal to me. But, of all the HI NRG stuff I’ve heard (which is probably more than I’d care to admit to), this one is particularly mind numbing.

8. How Bizarre (OMC) [1995]

UK #5/US #4



New Zealand has never really been a hotbed of musical activity. Split Enz, Crowded House and Lorde are the only major-ish New Zealand acts I can think of. I guess at a push you could say Flight of the Conchords. Unfortunately, this is the biggest hit in the history of New Zealand. Late front man Paul Fuemana looks and sounds completely disinterested throughout, doing this weird talk-singing thing that isn’t quite rapping, but seems to be what he’s aiming for. The 90s were a big decade for slightly novelty peppy songs that tried to mix traditional music from other cultures with pop stylings in an attempt to get a big summer hit (Sex on the Beach, anyone?), but How Bizarre is on another level of earworm. And, to be fair, I have no idea what's going on lyrically, so I guess the title is apt.

7. I’ve Never Been To Me (Charlene) [1977/charted 1982]

UK #1/US #3



In the 1960’s and early 1970’s, Motown was arguably the greatest record label in the world. Things had gone somewhat awry by the 80s. DeBarge were hardly The Temptations, I Just Called To Say I Love You was hardly Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours and this was probably the worst thing the label ever put out. And we were nearly saved. It was first released in 1977 and sank without a trace, but became a big hit in 1982. The universe was conspiring against us.

6. Bad Day (Daniel Powter) [2006]

UK #2/US #1



A horrible, saccharine adult contemporary piece of nothing that people who don’t like music think is a deep, powerfully emotional song. It makes me feel actually sick. ACTUALLY SICK. Ironically, there have been times when I’ve been having a good day until I hear this song and my day is positively ruined.

5. Party All The Time (Eddie Murphy) [1985]

UK #87/US #2



Yes, THAT Eddie Murphy. Murphy had a history of doing impressions of James Brown in his notoriously raunchy stand up act. And he was pretty good. You could imagine him making some decent funk records. You’d think if Eddie Murphy was going to make a record with Rick James, it would be down and dirty. Instead, we got Party All The Time, a song where Murphy sounds weedier than he does in those awful family films he makes, and complains that his girl just wants to party all the time. Let me re-iterate this: Rick James and Eddie Murphy wrote a song complaining that their girl parties too much. Rick James. Eddie Murphy. Outside of the dreadful use of the word “party” as a verb, that just doesn’t chime with either of their images. Plus the song is just generic 80s semi-funk that makes Michael Jackson sound like George Clinton. I particularly like Rick James in the video. He has a look on his face that suggests that this is jammin’. It isn’t.

4. Achy Breaky Heart (Billy Ray Cyrus) [1992]

US #4/UK #3



It’s rare that anyone is responsible for anything so annoying, even rarer that they are responsible for two things so annoying. So, for all the cringing you might direct at Miley Cyrus, it is nothing compared to her daddy’s hit Achy Breaky Heart. Let’s even forget that “breaky” isn’t a word. Here is my charge: this is a novelty song masquerading as country music. This is now what we are accustomed to thinking of when we think of country music; barely talented hunky red neck mancakes, bad line dancing, awful lyrics, catchy in a way that good songs never seem to be. BAH! Oh, Johnny Cash - why did you leave us?

3. Just a Friend (Biz Markie) [1989]

UK unkown/US #9



Biz Markie, the Clown Prince of Hip Hop, is one of the most bizarre musical figures that could spring to mind. He just does everything wrong. He looks awkward. He sings like he’s so constipated that he‘s actually in pain. His rapping lacks any flow and his rhymes are just…weird. His faux piano playing is ridiculous. And yet there is something weirdly loveable about him. To be honest, I find this a lot more appealing than Lil’ Wayne constantly using faecal matter as a metaphor (seriously, what’s that about?). I guess Biz is the Tommy Wiseau of rap, and this song is a hip hop equivalent of The Room. Oh, snap!

Trivia: that's actually Mozart. Who'd have thunk?

2. Fuck It (I Don’t Want You Back) (Eamon) [2003]

UK #1/US #16



In the USA of America, they often ask the question; “where were you when Kennedy was shot?” Everybody remembers where they were when they heard the news, such a powerfully disturbing moment it was. I had a similar experience the first time I heard this. I was in the kitchen, and heard Eamon’s whiney, tuneless voice barking heavily edited nonsense and knew, just knew, that this was a new low for popular entertainment. There is a slight doo-wop feel to it, and the legendary Ellie Greenwich and Jeff Barry are listed as songwriters on the track (I assume for a sample, but for the life of me I can’t place it).

Oh, and you may recall the “answer song”, by the supposed ex that Eamon didn’t want back? Yeah, that definitely wasn’t a cynical marketing ploy at all, was it?



1. Float On (The Floaters) [1977]

UK #1/US #2



Modest Mouse have an excellent song called Float On. Sadly, it has nothing to do with this. It sounds like a parody, but apparently it is not. The Floaters (yes, that is actually the name of the group…The Floaters…I’ll leave you to make the obvious joke yourself) were a 70s make vocal group. And this is there only hit. #2 in the US and, embarrassingly, #1 in the UK. “What makes it so bad?”, I hear you ask, metaphorically, in my head. Well…

There is very little singing in this. There are no instrumental breaks. It attempts to be a seductive, Marvin Gaye-type ballad. It doesn’t quite reach those heights. Hell, Barry White is more seductive than this. Each member of The Floaters (*guffaw*, I mean, really? Did they not even think about that?) introduces themselves by stating their star sign. I’d heard that “what’s your star sign?“ was a cliché of bad pick-up artists, but I didn’t think anyone actually used it.

Thing is, it doesn’t work all that badly (well, it IS bad, but not as bad as you might think). I mean, “Sagittarius” is quite a nice word. So is "Libra". Sadly, the final member of The Floaters to introduce himself, the surprisingly boisterous “Larry”, was born between June 22nd and July 22nd. This makes him a “Cancer”. So, in the middle of this seductive music, you have a weird voice yell out “Cancer! And my name is Larry!”

How the hell was this ever a hit? It has nothing at all going for it. You can't get frisky to it, as intended, because the group is called THE FLOATERS, and a man yells out "CANCER".

RockDocs: The Nation's Favourite Motown Song

There are many pointless things in this world; flies, Police Academy movies, Bryan Adams etc. But none of them really match the sheer desperation of ITV. Everything about it just pisses me off, especially the way they shoe-in references to the rest of their schedule with the most offensively obvious propaganda since Triumph of the Will. I’m not comparing ITV to the Nazis (well, maybe I am a little), but I do have to make this clear right now: I don’t like ITV. I never have. I never will. Loose Women can fuck off. Simon Cowell can fuck off. Piers Morgan can fuck off, come back, and then fuck off again, but HARDER.

Their music programming irks me like no other. They did a special on Elvis last year where they spent more time talking to Gareth Gates about covering Suspicious Minds than they did talking about Suspicious Minds. Lest we forget, Gareth Gates began life on ITV’s own Pop Idol. Not that I’m suggesting that this is why they gave him so much airtime. Except that I am. I am, I am, I am, I am. There! I said it.

So, it was with great trepidation that I approached The Nation’s Favourite Motown Song, the Motown version of The Nation’s Favourite Elvis Song that we sat through last year. Which, in itself, was the Elvis version of The Nation’s Favourite Bee Gees/Abba/Christmas/Dance/[insert whatever in here] Song. Like Elvis and the others, a tie-in album has been released, which essentially makes this whole special one massive advert for the album. But…surprisingly…after bitching about it at length here it wasn’t that bad. In fact it was quite – gulp! – entertaining.

Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t perfect. In the grand tradition of ITV “documentaries”, it wasn’t aimed at fans of the subject. It was aimed at people who think Motown is a style of music rather than a label and that Motown includes The Drifters and Aretha Franklin. It was very much for the ITV audience so if you’re looking to learn something new here, you’re in the wrong place. And, once again, there were some very confusing interview subjects; Michael Bolton? Boyzone? Like, actually, why? Does anyone really care what Ronan Keating thinks about…well…anything? John Newman clearly had the knowledge of a spatula. When was the last time Suzi Quatro was famous? And I found it especially ironic that Pete Waterman was interviewed for the special. If there’s one guy who was able to take Berry Gordy’s theory for making music, but miss the point entirely, it’s Peter Alan Waterman, OBE. But, overall, it was a vast improvement over what they have had in the past.

After narrations from Liza Tarbuck, Rufus Hound, Kate Thornton and The Nation’s Favourite Simpleton (Fearne Cotton), this time around they went for Craig Charles, who is at least a noted Motown fan. His enthusiasm shone through, making it much easier to get caught up in the whole thing. Not that it would be particularly difficult. The music of Motown hits you in a place like no other.

The songs picked were pretty obvious choices for the most part, and I question some of the positions. The Tracks of My Tears at #13? It’s one of the Top 5 songs ever written! And that’s a non-proven unfact! Diana Ross’ version of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough and not Marvin and Tammi’s? What the hell is wrong with you, Britain?

In any case, here’s the unabridged Top 20, you should buy the album if you think Aretha Franklin is Motown. If not, you probably already have them all anyway.

20. Jimmy Mack (Martha & The Vandellas)



19. Uptight (Stevie Wonder)



18. Papa Was a Rolling Stone (The Temptations)



17. What’s Going On? (Marvin Gaye)



16. My Cherie Amour (Stevie Wonder)



15. I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch) (The Four Tops)



14. My Guy (Mary Wells)



13. The Tracks Of My Tears (Smokey Robinson & The Miracles)



12. Reach Out, I’ll Be There (The Four Tops)



11. I Want You Back (Jackson 5)



10. Stop! In The Name of Love (The Supremes)



9. War (Edwin Starr)



8. Baby Love (The Supremes)



7. I’ll Be There (Jackson 5)



6. The Tears of a Clown (Smokey Robinson & The Miracles)



5. My Girl (The Temptations)



4. Dancing In The Street (Martha & The Vandellas)



3. Ain’t No Mountain High Enough (Diana Ross)



2. What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? (Jimmy Ruffin)



1. I Heard It Through The Grapevine (Marvin Gaye)




And finally, just to prove that ITV used to do music programming right, this is the legendary Ready Steady Go! Motown special from 1965 that basically introduced the UK to The Sound of Young America, introduced by Dusty Springfield and featuring The Temptations, Smokey & The Miracles, The Supremes, Martha & The Vandellas, Little Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye tagged onto the end from a different edition (also…for some reason, this video is out of sequence…but still…)

Rumour Mill: The (Potential) Return of Pink Floyd

I update rather infrequently here, and it’s not like I do this for my massive readership (because I really would be a delusional megalomaniac if that was the case). I do it because occasionally, just once in a while, something comes along that I just feel the need to write about. And last night rumours started circulating that perked my interest, and I haven’t been able to shake them; the return of Pink Floyd.

Sort of.

The unofficial announcement comes from the twitter feed of Polly Samson, the wife of one David Gilmour. She claimed that a new Pink Floyd album, titled The Endless River, will be out in October. Now, Samson’s twitter feed is unverified, so we can’t DEFINITELY say it’s her. However, she does appear to have some family-looking pictures of Mr Gilmour with a rather hideous beard, and has re-tweeted adopted son and sometime war memorial destroyer Charlie Gilmour. And long time Floyd backing vocalist Durga McBroom (which, as a name, always made me smile as a kid) confirmed that she had worked on some Floyd material as recently as last December...

The recording did start during The Division Bell sessions (and yes, it was the side project originally titled The Big Spliff that Nick Mason spoke about), which is why there are Richard Wright tracks on it. But David and Nick have gone in and done a lot more since then. It was originally to be a completely instrumental recording, but I came in last December and sang on a few tracks. David then expanded on my backing vocals and has done a lead on at least one of them.

Basically, what’s being touted here is an album made up of outtakes from the sessions of their last album, 1994’s The Division Bell. That might not sound too promising, but there’s been plenty of examples of that practice being successful in the past; Michael Jackson’s current posthumous release Xscape is miles better than the last couple of albums he actually made himself, Van Halen’s comeback with David Lee Roth in 2012 was the same kind of affair and was the best thing either of them had done for years. George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass is by far the best Beatles solo album, and yet it was made up almost entirely of songs that he wrote for The Beatles that didn’t get used because of the wealth of Lennon/McCartney material.



Slight difference, of course, is that all of Van Halen’s albums with David Lee Roth, and all of The Beatles’ latter albums, and most of the albums Michael Jackson made when he recorded the songs used on Xscape were…erm…better than The Division Bell. Don’t get me wrong; it’s OK. It’s better than their previous effort, A Momentary Lapse of Reason, but nowhere in the league of what the Floyd were capable of in the past. So…material not good enough for an album that was just OK? Not exactly promising.



Another thing to bear in mind here is that, given the timescale, it’s not really going to be all of Pink Floyd. Roger Waters, the creative force behind the band’s greatest years, left in 1983. Rather bitterly. So, any material recorded in 1994 will obviously not include him, and the likelihood is he won’t have returned to the fold to finish this material, because…oh, let’s not get into it. But, needless to say, it won’t have happened. Furthermore, keyboard player Rick Wright died in 2008. So, any re-recording or updates won’t include him either. Which leaves Gilmour and Nick Mason. Given Gilmour’s dominance of Floyd’s later years, it’s starting to sound more like a David Gilmour solo album.

So - the likelihood? Well, a 20th anniversary box set edition of The Division Bell came out a few weeks ago. Which struck me as odd from the get go, because I wouldn’t have considered the album critically or commercially successful enough to warrant anniversary box set treatment. But, it is plausible that when going through the tapes, Gilmour and Mason found this material and started working on it. Although, I am surprised that Gilmour is wanting to work on another Floyd project after years of refusing to do so.

As for promotion, I can’t see a tour. Once again, Gilmour’s reluctance to reform and tour Pink Floyd in the past is a signifier here. Plus, he had to be goaded into playing for 20 minutes at Live 8 in 2005 (which, to be frank, was a nice close to the Floyd legacy anyway). In addition, I can’t see a tour going down as well with fans as you may think either. With Wright now gone and, with this being a Gilmour-led project, likely no Waters, it would essentially be a Gilmour solo tour with Mason on drums. And though that’s as many original members as The Who tour with, it was also the same number of original members of Pink Floyd on stage as Gilmour’s last solo tour in 2006.

But, I guess time will tell. Post-Bowie, there have been a bunch of unexpected album drops, so who really knows? Guess all will be revealed soon.

Re-Evaluating: Michael Jackson

I was pondering recently: how much do I actually like Michael Jackson? It’s a more complex question than you may think, at least for me. One of my earliest memories is the premier of the Black or White video in 1991, so it’s like asking how much do I REALLY like oxygen? Or clouds? Or bricks? You don’t really think about it. They’ve just always been there, so you just accept them without question.

But, I spend more time complaining about Michael Jackson than I do oxygen, clouds or bricks. So, I was interested to see how highly I actually rate him and his work. I hear people say all the time about how Jackson was “the greatest” in whatever field. But I have questioned that for a long time.

I think most pop music connoisseurs would agree that the work he did with Quincy Jones between 1979-1987 is his masterstroke creatively. Off The Wall in particular, is an astonishing pop album. Thinking about it critically, it seems the reason these albums captured people’s imagination so was due to Jackson and Jones’ differing styles. Where Michael would push for modern grooves, Quincy would pull things back towards a more traditional sound. Therefore, their partnership created a happy medium between the two that appealed to a helluva lot of people, coupled with (mostly) great songs that weren’t trying to do anything but make you feel good.



But things start going wrong earlier than you think. The humungous success of Thriller meant that for the rest of his career, Jackson would basically make albums that followed the same format. Thriller itself feels calculated, but the albums feel even more calculated as time goes on. Sure, Bad is still a great pop LP, but most of the songs have their Thriller counterparts (Bad = Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’ / Dirty Diana = Beat It / Just Good Friends = Girl Is Mine / Smooth Criminal = Thriller etc), and this is a trait that would continue. Each subsequent album “needed” a rock song with a famous guitar player (Black or White, Give In To Me, DS, Morphine, Whatever Happens), a duet (In The Closet, Scream), a slight novelty track (2000 Watts, HIStory, Ghosts) and, from Bad onwards, he added songs complaining about the press (Tabloid Junkie, Privacy, Why You Wanna Trip On Me?, Leave Me Alone) and songs about saving the world (Man In The Mirror, Heal The World, Earth Song, Cry, The Lost Children) to his limited pallet.

1991’s Dangerous is the first major example of Jackson throwing himself into current trends at the expense of writing great songs. The album for me is much like Jackson himself in that it was just always there, and I often list it amongst my favourite albums. And yet I don’t listen to it all that often. The first half of the album is obsessed with the then-current New Jack Swing craze. And while some of the songs work (Jam, Remember The Time) others definitely don’t (Can’t Let Her Get Away) and it all ends up sounding a bit samey. To cap it off, the first disc of the original vinyl ends with Heal The World, which is another one of Jackson’s excruciatingly bad habits; preachy “save the world”-type songs that offer too many easy answers and are encapsulated in a Disney-sounding production so that you can’t really take it seriously in the way that you can Prince’s Sign “O” The Times or Dylan’s 60s work.

All of which is a shame, because much of the second half of the album works a treat, from the straightforward pop/rock (Black Or White), to the beautiful (Will You Be There?) by way of the experimental (Who Is It?).

In the middle of the Dangerous promotional campaign, Jackson was first accused of child molestation. We’re not talking about Jackson’s private life or allegations here, but I feel this does mark an important moment in his creativity. You see, for all the faults of Dangerous, there was at least enough there that did work to counter-balance the things that didn’t quite work. The album he made following the accusations is where it all starts to go spectacularly wrong.

First of all, his general attitude starts to stink. Sure, he had marketed himself as “The King of Pop” before but I have no qualms with that. James Brown called himself all manner of incredibly flattering names, so it’s not like Jackson was the first one to do so. But Brown didn’t float a giant statue of himself down the River Thames. Brown didn’t perform at the BRIT Awards by walking Christ-like around the stage healing sick children. Brown didn’t spend the sleeve notes of his albums listing every single award he’d ever been given. This would be stomach churning anyway, but add that to the context that not a few months before this Jackson had received the worst publicity you could ever have via the child molestation accusations. From what I can gather about Jackson’s fan base, they get a kick out of those things. But, the point of publicity stunts and large TV performances is to win over people who are not necessarily your audience. Non-Michael Jackson fans always (rightly) point to these gaudy events as reasons they DON’T like Michael Jackson.



Then there’s the HIStory album itself. It’s waaaay to long, especially given that most of the album deals with the same subject (Jackson’s mistreatment by the press and authorities; Scream, They Don’t Care About Us, This Time Around, DS, Money, Tabloid Junkie, 2 Bad). There’s two covers on there for some reason (although, I would argue his cover of Charlie Chaplin’s Smile does at least serve a purpose, the inclusion of The Beatles’ Come Together seems to only be there to rub the fact that he owns the copyright in Paul McCartney’s face). The guest rapping that flowed pretty well on Dangerous (from the likes of Heavy D) now seems shoehorned in to meet a quota (worst example: The Notorious B.I.G. on This Time Around).

Furthermore, the album was always going to suffer in that it was packaged as a 2-cd set; a disc of the new material and a disc made up of Jackson’s first Sony Greatest Hits collection. I’m sure 99% of people would much rather listen to Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough than DS (possible 1% margin of error), which means the first disc gets way more listens than the second. It seems it was only there as a marketing ploy - people who wanted a Michael Jackson Greatest Hits CD could now easily get one, but they had to get this other album as well.

Seeing as the HIStory tour was Jackson’s last, it’s as good a time as any to talk about his capabilities as a live performer. Because by the HIStory tour, he was woeful. He lip synched every song on the tour, save for two. Not even re-recording the vocal tracks, he just lip synched to the original album versions, meaning that when performing a medley of songs from Off The Wall the 40 year old MJ is singing with 21 year old MJ’s voice. It is somewhat noticeable. The Dangerous tour fared a little better, though there was still way too much lip synching. I always heard people say the Bad Tour was 100% live. But a Bad Tour DVD was finally released in 2012. And guess what? Though the beginning of the show is live, towards the end he seems to think “fuck it, I can’t be arsed” and lip synchs again. Now, I get that people want to see him dance too, but how can you justify lip synching a ballad like the awful R. Kelly slush You Are Not Alone? The argument I hear is “he was a perfectionist, and he was out of breath”. Well, if he was a perfectionist he wouldn’t have gone out as the sub-par live act he was in the 90s.

Additionally, the format of his live shows became as stale as that of his albums. In fact, mores so. Never changing anything; Billie Jean is performed the exact same way it was in 1983; same hat, same gloves, same jacket. Beat It with the cherry picker, jacket, pretending to beat up a camera man, re-create the knife fight from the video. Shove a Jackson 5 medley in there. AC/DC shows can get pretty predictable, but…jeez…nowhere near this. Not only is the setlist the same, but so is the staging. Even sister Janet said in the early 90s that his tours are pretty similar (although I don’t think she meant it as a criticism necessarily). Apparently he “didn’t have time” to put something new together. Really? Because your last tour was four years ago, so you had no opportunity in those four years to even consider putting anything new together? A lot of acts who tour a lot more regularly manage to put something different together each time (check out Prince’s tours of the late 80s/early 90s for proof, each one was different and even at times challenging for the audience).

This montage was put together by someone on You Tube, presumably to highlight the awesomeness of Michael Jackson. To me, it highlights the laziness of Michael Jackson.



I genuinely believe that The Jacksons were a better live act than Michael was solo. Much looser, much more fun and much more musical than what Michael did on his own. Track down a copy of 1981's Jacksons Live album for proof/pudding.

Which brings us to the nadir of his entire career; Invincible. The dude doesn’t even sound like he’s trying. And then he was surprised when it didn’t sell 30 million copies. In fairness, it did sell close to 10 million, which is a lot in the market of the noughties, and even more for an artist in his 40s. But he blamed the record company for “low sales” and accused them of being racist. Given the circumstances, that's almost as bad as Mariah Carey blaming the reaction to her notorious flop movie/soundtrack Glitter on 9/11 that same year.

Because, good people of the interweb, I ask you a question of logistics; what company wants it’s projects to fail? This album cost over $20 million to make, surely they would want to make a profit on this? Since Dangerous, Jackson appeared to put more emphasis on rhythm tracks and a lot of the time forgot to write a decent melody to go with it. The dance songs on Invincible is the most obvious example of this, and the ballads are the most sickly yet. There are but two saving graces on the album, and both appear to have little to do with Jackson himself; Butterflies, a song written by British songwriter Marsha Ambrosius, and Whatever Happens, a song that borrows heavily from Santana’s mega successful Supernatural album, and features Carlos Santana himself (which suggests it has more to do with Santana than Jackson). The rest is an unmemorable mush. It’s not a conspiracy, Jackson fans; the album just sucked. It seems he expected to be huge based on his name alone. Well, people will only fall for that for so long.

And yet, I can’t argue with his earlier career. As stated above, the Quincy Jones-produced albums are mostly remarkable. The early Jackson 5 records at Motown are abundant with youthful fun and enjoyment. And, while inconsistent, the albums The Jacksons made after Motown are interesting as they show a transition from childhood to being mature, adult artists.

So…do I think he was “The Greatest” at anything? No. It appears that I don’t like Michael Jackson as much as my 8 year old self assumed I would. Despite what his fans insist, popularity does not equal greatness (see: the entire ITV schedule). You’re only as great as the people you work with. He worked with great people once upon a time, but he cut that out in the 90s to try and stay “relevant” rather than “great”. Why does EVERYTHING have to be a huge success? There have been many artists who have gone in directions that they knew wouldn’t be successful commercially, but felt it was necessary for their artistic growth, whilst still keeping their core audiences. Jackson never did this. Ever. If he had, he would likely be much more respected as a musician than he is today, both by critics and by me. Perhaps the reason the press were more interested in Jackson's personal life as time wore on was because it was just more interesting than the music he was making at the time.

Having said that, I’m still likely to buy the posthumous projects that are released, and continue to defend him. And if you start bad mouthing oxygen, bricks and clouds, I'll defend them too. Because they've been a subtle but large part of my life as far as I can remember.

It Appears ITV Are Going To Piss On Motown's Legacy

I hate ITV. I hate everything about it; the lousy, predictable crime dramas. The lousy, predictable talent shows. The lousy, predictable daytime “human interest” talk shows. But most of all, I hate it when they decide to try their hand at music programming. Some of the problems they have are not their fault, per se. On the few occasions they’ve tried festival coverage, it has been incredibly minimal and repetitive. But that’s due to the difficulty they have in acquiring those sorts of rights (unlike the BBC, who have always had a deal with the musician’s union). But they have no excuse for their “documentary” programmes.

I put the word “documentary” in quotation marks because these aren’t really “documentaries”, they’re clip shows. The two most recent ones I can think of is a documentary on Pete Waterman’s Hit Factory and the genesis of the Now That‘s What I Call Music compilations (the subject matters should tell you enough). Do you want to hear what you’ve just been watching said again and again? Great! Because they’ll do it after every ad break, as if you’re an imbecile with an inability to remember what happened 3 minutes ago. Do you want to see Simon Cowell treated as the go-to guy and God of all that is important in music? Great! Because that’s exactly what you’ll get, and not at all because he produces the two cornerstones of their schedule! Do you want to know what Deirdre Barlow from Coronation Street thinks about Bananarama? You do! Excellent…then this is the “documentary” for you. Because, like all ITV shows, what’s the point in having something on your channel, if you can’t promote the rest of your schedule while you’re at it? (That’s actually a trick ITV do all the time; look out for it next time you watch Ant & Dec, or if they do a documentary on the Moors Murders and Peter Andre is one of their interview subjects).

They’ve had a series running called The Nation’s Favourite…. Each time they wheel it out, a different beloved music icon (Abba, the Bee Gees, Elvis, Christmas) is subject to a public vote as to what the nation’s favourite song by that artiste. And by “nation”, of course, I mean X Factor viewers.

I actually watched the Elvis one last year, and was a little taken aback. Here’s what I couldn’t understand; they interviewed Elvis’ wife Priscilla, they interviewed his buddies in the Memphis Mafia, they interviewed members of his band, they interviewed the great Darlene Love (who was, for a time, one of his backing singers), they interviewed his producers…you name it. So why, oh why, did they feel the need to spend an entire segment interviewing Gareth Gates (who was famous 12 years ago) about singing an Elvis song once? Who gives a fuck? Tell us how the songs were written. Tell us Elvis stories. NO-ONE GIVES A TOSS ABOUT GARETH GATES. His mum probably even refers to him as That One From Pop Idol. No, Not Will Young.

So, it’s with great sadness that ITV have announced that this summer they will tackle one of the subjects dearest to my heart; Motown. I assume this tribute to the greatest record label that ever existed is an overdue apology to label founder Berry Gordy, whom Louis Walsh once declared dead rather prematurely on The X Factor back in 2011 (seriously, an expert judge on a supposed music show, folks). I do remember ITV dealing with Motown before, on a special presented by Ian Wright called Motown Mania. It had S Club 7, Dane Bowers, Steps, A1, something called a “Samantha Mumba”. This is the basic, soulless standard;



Yes, it’s ITV’s favourite, Westlife. And it appears they are trying to summon Satan by being bland, boring and showing about as much emotion as a spatula. Not even an emotional spatula. Just a boring fucking spatula

Anywho, the company producing this new special is appropriately named Shiver, and the press release tells us that they are responsible for hard-hitting documentary series, and then has the BALLS to list Paul O’ Grady: For The Love of Dogs, May The Best House Win and Come Dine With Me as being amongst their most popular and respected long-running shows. These things? Really? So, not responsible for BBC Four’s Britannia series? Or some of Sky Art’s excellent interview series? No? Just May The Best House Win, then. In fairness, they did list The Other Side of Jimmy Saville in there too, but that was the only thing that could be seen as hard-hitting. And even that essentially picked up where an unaired Newsnight investigation dropped off.

This is going to be seriously bad. And yet I won’t be able to look away. I can’t help it. I’m drawn to anything with the word “Motown” on it. But, I can take solace in the fact that, no matter how much they rush through interviews with Smokey Robinson, no matter how many times it repeats itself, no matter how predictable the whole shebang might be…at least I might find out what Deirdre Barlow from Coronation Street thought when Diana Ross left The Supremes.

PARALLEL UNIVERSE: Bruce Springsteen Vs Billy Squier

Y’all know this, right?



It is, of course, Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing In The Dark, the breakthrough hit on The Boss’ mega successful 1984 album Born In The USA. Much if the reason for the song’s success was that it was Springsteen’s first proper video, which propelled this guy in his mid-30s into 1980s MTV cool and also kickstarted the career of future Friends star Courtney Cox (and disproves the Friends theory that Monica was fat in the 80s).

Although not one of his best songs and completely out of character for him (in fact, the lyrics of the song are about Springsteen being unable to write the song he was in the middle of writing) - especially considering it directly followed the dark, brooding Nebraska album - it’s hard to deny that it helped The Boss become one of the musical icons of the era.

But it could have gone another way.

This is one of the takes of the original concept of the video. And, though the released video has it’s fair share of 80s cheese, you ain’t seen nothing’ yet…



White men can’t dance.

Although Springsteen’s dancing at the end of the video that became an instant MTV hit may have been hilarious enough to inspire the infamous Carlton Banks dance from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air (seriously, look it up!), at least he didn’t look like he was having some kind of mental breakdown in it. He looks so uncomfortable, so unnatural. Just because Michael Jackson’s videos were popular with dance sequences in them at the time, doesn’t mean yours will be. At least Clarence Clemons is cool at the end.

In the unlikely event that there is such a thing as a parallel universe, this embarrassing video was likely released, and did damage to Springsteen‘s career and reputation (which, at that point, was pretty flawless).

And if that is the case, it’s pretty safe to say this one WASN’T released.

Billy Squier was making quite a bit of noise in the mid-80s. Each album was bigger than the last. Then this came along…1984’s Rock Me Tonite…



The blatant homoeroticism didn’t go down well with the rock crowd. Unfortunately for the human race, that kind of thing mattered in those days (although nobody seems to mind the extortionate campness of Kiss’ Paul Stanley).

The lying (presumably) naked in pink satin sheets, the pink vest, the ripping his shirt off, the dancing around the room, the writhing around the floor, the apparent orgasm…? What the fuck? And why is it that everybody in the 80s felt the need to DANCE? And I don’t mean just dance, I mean full-on Flashdance. What on Earth is he doing? Although the song was a hit, as the subsequent tour went on and the video was seen more and more, attendance each night slipped.

The end of the video, which shows Squier simply playing with his band on a soundstage, is fine. A bit of 80s cheese, but nothing that anybody would have noticed. Why not just recut the video and make it all THAT? Surely, they watched this back and though “maybe not”.

Had the video not been released…who knows? Maybe Squier would be more fondly remembered, and not just as the guy who made all of middle America say;

RockDocs: Super Duper Alice Cooper

There has already been an “official” Alice Cooper documentary. It’s called Prime Cuts, and was released on VHS in the early 90s. However, although it was labelled a documentary, it wasn’t really. It was basically akin to an ITV clip show, except it didn't have pointless talking heads from people on other ITV shows.

So, now we have this - Super Duper Alice Cooper, from the people who brought you such acclaimed films as Rush: Beyond The Lighted Stage, Metal: A Headbanger’s Journey and the excellent TV documentary series Metal Evolution.



I attended the “one night only” cinema screening of the film last night. So I haven’t had long to digest it yet, but here we go anyway…

First of all, I do take slight issue with the press release which proclaims this to be the first ever “doc opera”, due to the presentation style which is actually just a re-imagining of the 2009 film American: The Bill Hicks Story. But with a more prominent soundtrack. I guess I can’t blame them for hyping it a little, but on the other hand I can and will. It is a cool style, though, and it does manage to keep an air of mystery about the Alice Cooper mythos, despite being told everything as we go along. Rather than having the usual talking head inserts, the whole film is told with a mixture of animation, clips, photographs, and some parts are illustrated with old horror movies.

Unlike Prime Cuts, the focus here is very much on story rather than music. It chronicles less of Alice’s career, but more of his life. His formative years are told pretty well, but perhaps goes on a little long. As a narrative, it really takes off when The Spiders (as the band were then called) go to LA. That’s where they meet Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Frank Zappa etc. It’s also where they finally adopt the Alice Cooper persona and start writing in that style. Badly.

But, as a band, things don’t take off until they go back to Detroit. The creators of shock rock, they’re the most hated band in LA. The hippies of the flower power generation didn’t like a scary bunch of motherfuckers interrupting their acid trip. But in Detroit they find a home with The Stooges and the MC5 as their contemporaries. From here, they go from success to success, doing something nobody had ever seen before. But then the wheels come off as the Alice Cooper band are shoved aside for the Alice Cooper character.

The difference between Alice Cooper and his creator, Vincent Furnier, is referenced throughout with Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde being used as a motif. Footage from a silent movie adaptation of Jekyll and Hyde is played often, the metaphor presumably being that the potion Vincent Furnier drank to become Alice Cooper was alcohol. The concept works, especially given the macabre imagery Coop has used throughout his career. They all fit the classic Alice Cooper iconography and tell you about the genesis of the character without having to explain in to you like you‘re a total bonehead (they leave that type of thing to ITV, thank you very much).

As the film continues - and the original band breaks up - less emphasis is put on Alice’s career and more on his deepening substance abuse. At first, his only vice is alcohol. He is treated for that in a mental institution (why not?). When he gets out, he decided to replace alcohol with cocaine (why not?). Then, he starts freebasing (why not?).

Now, I have read many interviews with Cooper and watched quite a few documentaries and TV pieces on him, and I never recall this information being used before. In fact, from what I have seen Alice has implied over the years that the only vice he ever indulged in was alcohol. In fact, the only time I recall it even been suggested in passing was a brief line in the Motley Crue book The Dirt. So, this was kind of new information for me. And I do consider myself a fan of Coop’s, so I found it weirdly refreshing, and it especially explains his gaunt appearance at the time, and preferable to hearing him re-count the infamous chicken story for the forty four billionth time.

Oh, yes…we do get it, by the way. This is the story Alice tells on every single talk show he is ever on. I am SICK TO SHITE of this story. I knew it would be in there. But after the screening of the film, there was a Q&A with him…and he told the fucking story AGAIN. I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

If you don’t know the story, here it is being told to that great rock n roller, Bill Oddie...



The film ends with his (sober) comeback in the late 80s. Although it may seem like an odd cut off point, the film wouldn’t have really worked going beyond that. It was probably the last truly commercially successful period in his career and ends the film on a high note. As interested as I, as a fan, may be in latter day albums like Brutal Planet and The Eyes of Alice Cooper, they don’t really fit in with the story that has been told.

As with most rockumentaries, there is barely a critical word uttered. I guess that’s to be expected, but it wouldn’t have gone amiss when discussing the early 1980s, when Alice was making albums that he claims he was too wasted to have any recollection of recording. Rather than admit that he made some under par records, they simply gloss over it. Which is a shame, because he was scary as fuck in that period;



The only major criticism I have as a fan is that there isn’t much discussing Cooper’s music. Although his influence has perhaps been more visual than musical, this means the strength and eclecticism of his back catalogue is often forgotten. Bob Dylan agrees (he told Rolling Stone in the late 70s that Cooper is “an overlooked songwriter”). The film sort of inaccurately reinforces that, spending a lot more time focusing on the stage antics than the band probably did.

Out of the peers and famous fans interviewed, there isn’t really anyone surprising and nearly all from hard rock/punk (Iggy Pop and Dee Snider show up, and John Lydon predictably comes across as an utter twat. Again. Can‘t stand that tosser). If you’re going to reinforce the influence of the stage act, why not mention the influence he had upon other genres? Adam Ant? Boy George? Lady Ga Ga? All confessed fans and admirers and not hard rock acts. Hell, Michael Jackson stole so many aspects of Coop’s stage act that he should really be called out for it. A pre-Ziggy Stardust David Bowie was supposedly at Alice’s first UK shows. That’s huge. And Penn Jilette (of magicians Penn & Teller) claims that he counts Alice Cooper as the first “magic” show he ever saw that he actually enjoyed. I really think they missed a trick there.

Also - as an atheist - I find it difficult to swallow Alice’s “God saved me/it was a miracle” schtick when talking about his alcohol/cocaine recovery (if it was a miracle, why did you fall into cocaine abuse when you recovered from your alcoholism? Answer that one, Coop).

However, all in all, it is an interesting and fun watch. It does show where Alice went right where other similar artists didn’t; the satire, the smart humour and willingness to change with the times is the thing that bands that followed in a similar fashion, such as KISS or Marylin Manson, were greatly missing. The Alice Cooper show was as funny as it was scary, and that is made abundantly clear. Overall, it does it’s job - I went home and listened to Billion Dollar Babies.