Hello folks.
First, let me apologize for the lateness of this list. There was some business
I needed to attend to in my life, and as a result, I didn’t have as much
freedom to work on these reviews as I would’ve liked. I probably could’ve
released another regular list and called it a day, but I felt like I should do
something more ambitious. So, it is with great enthusiasm and eagerness that I
present to you the first of its kind to come from me: the top twenty worst
number one hit songs of the 1980s.
Some people might
present the argument that the ‘80s were a touch overrated, and sadly I am one
of those people. With the number of artists that have drawn inspiration from
that time period in recent years, it can be hard to remember that not all the
music from that decade was pristine. Yes, it gave us the likes of Michael
Jackson, Madonna, Prince, and Wham!, but it also gave us Milli Vanilli, UB40,
and two terrible music acts for the price of one with Chicago’s soft rock
period and Peter Cetera’s solo career. The first half of the ‘80s was fairly
good, but as the years progressed, their momentum slowly started plummeting,
and yes, we’re going to be looking at some of the lowest points they had to
offer.
Now, keep in mind,
for a song to qualify for this list, it had to have originally peaked at #1
during the ‘80s and no sooner. Therefore ‘Escape (The Pina Colada Song)’ by
Rupert Holmes barely missed qualification because it first hit #1 in 1979.
Furthermore, I’ll be using my usual standard for judging a song: “What was this
song’s goal and did it accomplish it?” and “How does this song make me feel?”
Also as usual, we’ll be starting with our honorable mentions. So, without
further ado…
Do That to Me One More Time (The Captain
& Tennille) [1 week; February 16, 1980]
I’m surprised the
Captain and Tennille managed any hits in the 1980s, let alone one that peaked
atop the hot 100. Not much to say about this song that hasn’t been said about
every other Captain and Tennille song, save that it uses that water droplet sound
effect that seems tailor made to get on my nerves. Ultimately though, I left it
off the list because there just wasn’t enough to get mad about. It’s a wispy,
little nothing of a song that doesn’t warrant any further attention than this.
Next!
Eternal Flame (The Bangles) [1 week; April
1, 1989]
The Bangles
might’ve been a huge hit with ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’, but I can’t say I can
get behind this. The name of the song is ‘Eternal Flame’, yet it feels so
watery and weak. Also, we were getting more than enough slow tempo ballads at
this point in the ‘80s as it was; we seriously didn’t need this. This was one
flame that couldn’t keep burning.
Bette Davis Eyes (Kim Carnes) [9 weeks,
nonconsecutive; May 16-June 13 & June 27-July 18, 1981]
I was surprised
this didn’t make the list, considering just how bad Kim Carnes is about
remaining on pitch. This is at least better than ‘Voyeur’, though not by much.
When I’m with You (Sheriff) [1 week;
February 4, 1989]
I swear Canada has
made good music. I just seem to be struggling at consistently finding examples
of such. This was Sheriff’s only big hit in the US, and it’s just another
slow-tempo, sleep-inducing soft rock song. It’s not the worst of the bunch I’ll
be covering by a long shot, but it’s easily one of the least memorable.
Hangin’ Tough (New Kids On the Block) [1
week, September 9, 1989]
This I almost find
kind of endearing in its ridiculousness. This seemed to be around when the boy
band formula people have come to recognize was starting to take shape, but
before they truly knew how to present themselves. Nowadays they sing about how
much they love you and how they’ll go to any lengths to prove their love. New
Kids On the Block, meanwhile, are bragging about how tough they are. It’s
honestly too stupid to know any better; I can’t get mad at it. Other such songs
on the list proper will not have this excuse.
Now then folks,
let’s find out which of these songs give love a bad name as we count down…
…THE
TOP 20 WORST #1 HIT SONGS OF THE 1980S!
#20.
I’m
convinced that 1986 was around the point in the decade where the pop charts
started to truly take a turn for the worse. As evidence of this, let me present
what song ended up being the #3 hit of the following year:
#20. Shake You Down (Gregory Abbott) [1
week]: January 17, 1987]
I’ve
heard the saying, “It’s never too late” regarding musical performers and age,
but I honestly can’t say I can support that statement. Most of the performers I
know of who started their careers later in their lives tend to suck. This
Gregory Abbott guy didn’t release his first album until he was in his thirties,
and the result was this!
This
is the title track off of that album, ‘Shake You Down’, a song that Abbott
wrote and produced himself, and boy does it show. It’s a song about sex, and the
lyrics don’t come across as the least bit sexy. Who describes having sex with
someone as shaking them down? Even ignoring that shaking someone down is an
extortion, that doesn’t sound like a sexy thing to say. It clearly sounds like
the guy was just reaching for a phrase that rhymed with “take you down”, but if
you’re struggling this much you’re supposed to erase what isn’t working and
start over!
That’s
even before we get to Gregory Abbott himself. The man carries no pulchritude whatsoever;
he’s got all the charm of spoiled cottage cheese. Even ignoring that, his
singing constantly sounds like he’s straining his voice to hit every note. He
comes across less like a man performing a song and more like a yelping sea
lion.
It’s
not even like the guy felt any kind of emotional attachment to this; it was
just one of a number of songs that he recorded for a demo and was one of the
three out of about a dozen that got picked. That means that this was deemed one
of the better tracks he recorded for that demo. Think about that for a bit, and
then let’s move along.
#19.
I
don’t have any issues with Phil Collins as a performer. I know some people
prefer Genesis under Peter Gabriel, but Collins contributed to the group both
as a drummer and eventually as the lead singer. He was responsible for the band
seeing the success they received, and even in his solo career he’s made some
good songs. That said I’m still not one to overlook crap when I hear it.
#19. Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now)
(Phil Collins) [3 weeks; April 21-May 5, 1984]
Phil
Collins is a man with plenty of talents. He can play drums, he can sing, he can
write lyrics, but somehow all of his skills fail him on this song. This was the
theme to a romantic neo-noir thriller film of the same name that came out that
year, but from what I’ve read, this was the most memorable thing about the
film. Granted, it’s not like this song’s more memorable by much.
Let’s
start with the song’s most glaring flaw: it’s terribly boring. There’s no
emotional power behind this, no intensity, and no sense of desperation
whatsoever. It’s just this slow, dreary, dull thing. The melody barely exists
to carry the song, and Collins sounds completely checked out.
The
lyrics don’t fair much better. It just speaks in vague statements that don’t
paint any kind of picture of the break-up Collins is trying to invest the
listener in. There’s nothing in this song that one couldn’t get from anyone
else. This was originally from the sessions for his debut solo album, with the
song being titled ‘How Can You Just Sit There?’, before he was approached to
write a song for the film, which seems to explain the lack of personal
connection that permeates the entire thing. If there were anything connecting
him to the song personally, he would’ve included it on his solo album rather
than handing it off to be the theme to a film.
It’s
a shame this song leaves me feeling so cold because I know Phil Collins is
capable of writing good slow-tempo ballads. ‘In Too Deep’, which Genesis would
release two years later, is an excellent ballad that should’ve been a #1 hit.
Instead, we’re stuck with this. I’m sorry Phil, but my taking any liking to
this song is against all possible odds, and that’s what you’ll have to face.
#18.
As
it happens, Phil Collins wasn’t the only lead singer of a band to release crap
through his solo career.
#18. The Next Time I Fall (Peter Cetera and
Amy Grant) [1 week; December 6; 1986]
Granted,
at the very least Phil Collins could claim that his band consistently made good
music throughout their career. The same can most definitely not be said of
Chicago front man Peter Cetera, a man most people consider terrible to the
point of demonizing him, and in many cases their judgment isn’t misplaced. This
wasn’t quite his worst song, but it is still an exemplary presentation of his
failures as a solo artist.
For
starters, there’s the melody. All throughout the song, it keeps changing, and
not even flowing into itself stably. It’s almost like they had several different
song melodies in mind when they wrote this but couldn’t decide on just one so
they just tossed them all in a blender and poured it out in chunks. I know that
the melody’s supposed to transition between each segment of a song; that’s how
music works. However, it just screeches to a halt whenever it gets to the
chorus and needs to start with a completely different melody, and it comes
across as clumsy.
That’s
before we get to the next problem: Peter Cetera himself. Not only is his
singing off key to the point that it affects his pronunciation, but the word
choices are completely unimaginative. This is especially noticeable on the
chorus, where they basically just repeat one line ad nauseum. It’s not even a
very good line really. “The next time I fall in love, it will be with you”? Why
can’t this person be the one you fall in love with right now? Are you just getting
cold feet and not feeling up to committing yourself to them? Oh, and Amy
Grant’s on this song too, I guess.
I
can’t imagine how into bad soft rock you’d have to be to enjoy this. Even
ignoring all of the problems I’ve mentioned, it’s just mind-numbingly boring.
It’s one of those songs you play and forget you’re listening to it, and that’s
never a good thing to hear someone say about a song. Now then, let’s move along
before I fall asleep on my laptop while writing this.
#17.
#17. Girl I’m Gonna Miss You (Milli Vanilli)
[2 weeks; September 23-30, 1989]
…AND…
#16. Baby Don’t Forget My Number (Milli
Vanilli) [1 week; July 1, 1989]
You
knew this was coming. Just to be clear, I didn’t put these songs on this list
because of the fact that the band was lip-syncing all of their songs, but
because these songs are terrible. I’m sure that former Milli Vanilli “frontmen”
Fab Morvan and Rob Pilatus were nice enough people, but the music they had
their names attached to just wasn’t very good.
‘Girl
I’m Gonna Miss You’ demonstrates startlingly unimpressive musical ability from
the people that were performing the songs for the ill-fated faces of the band.
The vocal melody is ear-piercingly off-pitch and even its timber and quality
clashes with the instrumentation and harmonies. That’s ignoring the stupidity
of the lyrics, which are apparently about a guy who knew the girl he’s singing
to would break his heart but decided to go along with her anyway. How did he
know she would break his heart? Why did he feel obligated to go after her
anyway? Did he actually apologize to the girl himself or did he need someone
else to say the apology for him?
That
brings us to ‘Baby Don’t Forget My Number’, the band’s first #1 hit single, and
one that sounds like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster of a tune. The rapped
lines in this song are just clunky and awkward, seeming to be meant for a
different song. The instrumentals clash horrendously with themselves, with
keyboard stabs and synth lines seeming to be lifted from other songs. Then
there’s the chorus, which contains one of the most bafflingly forced rhymes the
band could’ve conceived.
Do
I think Milli Vanilli were the worst thing to happen to music in the ‘80s? No,
not by a long shot. The music quality was already starting to decline before
they were even conceived; they were merely the product of that degradation.
That said I don’t find what they did acceptable or justifiable for two reasons.
One, they were lying about the music they were releasing, and two, said music
was crap. Sorry guys, but I don’t miss you in the slightest, and I’ve already
forgotten your number.
#15.
Oh
my God, there’s a girl over there I want to touch with my genitals. Magic, I
guess.
#15. Abracadabra (The Steve Miller Band) [2
weeks, nonconsecutive; September 4 & 25, 1982]
I’ve
already discussed this song, so rather than repeat myself, I’ll just include a
link to the submission where I discuss this song below. My opinion on the song
hasn’t changed, and if anything I feel like it’s gotten worse. They set up this
theme of magic and mystery, and all they do with it is describe a woman they
find hot. Even listening to it in comparison to the other songs that came out
this decade, it felt like a clumsy, desperate move by the band, which just
couldn’t keep up with the changing music scene. Not surprisingly, they couldn’t
keep up the momentum and vanished. Let’s hope they stay that way.
#14.
To
think I was complaining about people doing bad covers of Beatles songs back
when I did my worst of ’69 list…
#14. Got My Mind Set on You (George
Harrison) [1 week; January 16, 1988]
Apparently
that works in reverse too. It could be argued that George Harrison was the best
musician out of the Beatles, but lyrically he seriously struggled. Having now
gone through his music, I can definitely see why he was only given a couple of
songs to write per each album the band released. Most of his solo work is
pretty cringe-worthy, either because the lyrics are sloppy or because the
music’s terribly obnoxious to listen to.
That
brings us to this song, ‘Got My Mind Set On You’, a cover of an old James Ray
song from the ‘60s. It sadly didn’t chart on Billboard, else it likely would’ve
made my best of ’62 list, because it is a magnificent song. It took advantage
of the few words and phrases present in the song and used them efficiently. It
was repetitious at points, but never to the point that it felt like the
listener was being beaten in the face with the same seven words endlessly.
Also, it was jaunty and upbeat, which added nice contrast with the narrative of
a guy down on his luck in love persevering in the face of complete failure. It
was a solid tune.
How,
then, does George Harrison manage to screw something like this up? To begin
with, the song’s slowed down; slightly, yes, but it makes all the difference.
Where the original was light and bouncy, this version is some galumphing
elephantine thing charging blindly ahead with the same phrase hammered into
your skull until you hemorrhage. Also, he changed the lyrics, cutting some out
while rearranging others, making it sound so generic and dull while excising
the passion and emotional weight of the original.
Of
course, no one should need me to explain why this song is terrible. Others
before me have already thoroughly dissected this song and found all its flaws.
Even if you’re willing to look past the differences to the original, it doesn’t
hold up on its own. George Harrison may have his mind set on you, but I’ve got
my mind set on anything but this.
#13.
Surprise,
it’s another Peter Cetera ballad!
#13. Hard to Say I’m Sorry (Chicago) [2
weeks; September 11-18, 1982]
I
don’t understand what Chicago were thinking when they released this outside of,
“Gosh, our ballads seem to be making us the most success. Let’s just do more of
those.” I suppose I should correct myself about this being the song where
people gave up on the band, considering they were already turning into this by
the mid-‘70s. This song showcases all of Peter Cetera’s worst qualities as a
performer, with sloppy lyrics, lackluster instrumentation, and limp, soggy
vocals.
Of
course, I’ve already thoroughly discussed this song also, so you can just check
out my worst of ’82 list for that. If I might have one thing to add though,
it’s that this marked Chicago as one of the first bands to turn to soft rock
once the ‘80s came around. That’s right, Chicago were trendsetters. They
essentially started the bandwagon that other bands hopped on, so you can thank
them for that. “Hard to say I’m sorry” indeed, Cetera. How can you be sorry
when you were responsible for ruining ‘80s rock music? Screw this!
#12.
How
appropriate that this artist’s name is Ocean, because the disaster that was his
musical output was Titanic!
#12. There’ll Be Sad Songs (To Make You Cry)
(Billy Ocean) [1 week; July 5, 1986]
Billy
Ocean certainly isn’t the worst thing to happen to the ‘80s in retrospect. He’s
probably the least interesting though. He’s only released one song anyone
remembers, and it wasn’t this one. This song is especially lacking anything
memorable, which is why I put it on this list, though if you want a more
thorough analysis, I’ve covered it previously on my worst of ’86 list, which
I’ll include a link to below. Trust me, however, when I say we’ve yet to see
the last of Billy Ocean on this list…
#11.
I’m
not a stranger to mash-ups nor am I inherently against them. Some songs are
able to lend themselves to being mashed up well because so many songs follow
the four chords of pop. However, when they’re done willy-nilly without thought
to making the two songs match up well together, then you get things like this:
#11. Baby, I Love Your Way/Freebird Medley
(Will to Power) [1 week; December 3, 1988]
Will
to Power is an American dance-pop and freestyle music group from south Florida.
They mainly saw success on the Billboard dance charts, but saw their biggest
success in the late ‘80s with this mash-up of Peter Frampton’s ‘Baby, I Love
Your Way’ and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Freebird’. The main question I have to ask is
this: why? What do these two songs have that would justify them both being
squished together into something like this?
The
two songs themselves don’t seem like a bad place to start, so let’s compare
them, shall we? Some things both of them have in common are that they’re both
rock ballads from the ‘70s. Of course, where ‘Baby, I Love Your Way’ is a love
song where the narrator pleads with the listener to show them their love,
‘Freebird’ is a break-up song where the singer laments that he can’t stay with
the listener because that’s just not who he is.
So,
the two songs are telling two completely different stories and from different
perspectives. In that regard, I can almost understand why Will to Power chose
them to mash-up. The problem is that, aside from the contrasts in themes,
there’s nothing connecting these songs. They don’t have the same chord
progressions or tempo, so they can’t flow into each other smoothly. More
importantly though, they took two ‘70s rock songs and gave them ‘80s synth
production. Most of the better songs that use synthesizers are upbeat and
energetic; they need to be used sparingly on slower, downbeat songs.
There
are some songs that can justify having made it to #1 on Billboard. Even some of
the worst songs that peak atop the hot 100, including some a lot worse than
this song, fill a niche; they cater to a specific audience and provide
something that couldn’t be gotten elsewhere. I can’t say I know who would
possibly enjoy this. Even if I were to imagine the synths didn’t clash with the
tone of the song, the contrasting tones make it impossible to connect with. I
guess it’s supposed to be played at proms or the like, but it doesn’t have a
romantic enough atmosphere to justify dancing to. It’s just a garbled mishmash
of two songs that completely misses the point of both. Well, Will to Power, I
don’t love your way, nor does this make me feel free as a bird.
#10.
While
Chicago and Peter Cetera were seen as the faces of bad soft rock in the ‘80s, they
weren’t the only ones to hop on that bandwagon. Other bands would follow, for
good and bad. On the one hand, you had bands like Genesis who were able to take
the lighter elements of soft rock and draw out an emotional intensity one
wouldn’t expect from the genre. On the other hand…
#10. If You Don’t Know Me By Now (Simply
Red) [1 week; July 15, 1989]
If
you’re not familiar with Simply Red, I don’t blame you. Despite having two #1
hits, they didn’t have much of a presence on the pop charts. This song was
their biggest hit, and it’s a cover of a song by Harold Melvin and the Blue
Notes from the 1970s. In the band’s defense though, they were probably just
working with a crap song because the original isn’t much better.
Firstly,
there’s the structure of the song. It’s this slow, downbeat thing that has no
passion behind it. Considering this was a soul band, I would’ve expected them
to have a little more emotion than this. Instead, what they provide is this
watered-down, white bread, half-formed nothing that just sits there collecting
mold and attracting flies. This isn’t a song, it’s a fraction of a song; a
fragment of an idea that was rushed through production before it had time to
properly take shape.
That
almost-a-song quality is prevalent even in the lyrics and vocal performance.
The story of the song seems to be about how the narrator is struggling to
maintain a relationship, possibly a marriage, and the only implications we
receive about something being wrong with their family is that the guy stays out
late. That’s not to say that isn’t a good reason for concern, but it’s hardly
enough by itself for the listener to get a feel for why this couple isn’t
happy. In fact, frontman Mick Hucknall seems to lack any semblance of passion
or ability to draw in the listener whatsoever here.
What’s
especially disappointing about this is that Simply Red weren’t a bad band. They
didn’t offer anything new to the table, but they had released decent songs. Too
bad none of their good material made it onto Billboard. Considering their
biggest hits are also probably among their worst songs, I guess I really don’t
know them by now, and chances are I never will.
#9.
Milli
Vanilli had three #1 hits. You didn’t seriously think I just forgot about that
last one, did you?
#9. Blame It on the Rain (Milli Vanilli) [2
weeks; November 25-December 2, 1989]
The
entire Milli Vanilli project was a disaster waiting to happen. I’m not going to
pretend that their other two #1 hits were masterpieces, but their biggest
crimes, aside from lying to their audience, were embarrassing themselves. ‘Blame
It on the Rain’, however, is beyond just being stupid and innocent; it ventures
into being outright offensive to listen to. Where ‘Baby Don’t Forget My Number’
and ‘Girl I’m Gonna Miss You’ insulted the intelligence of the singers, this
insults the intelligence of the listener.
How
is this song so much more degrading and awful than their previous two hits? Let’s
start with the verses. The song begins by talking about a failed relationship.
Specifically, it’s a relationship that was ruined by the guy in question being
too proud and just letting a good thing slip through his fingers. Wait though,
this wasn’t just anyone that let this love get ruined; it was you! Yes, you
were the one that was too proud, you refused to admit you were wrong to the
girl; it was your fault!
What’s
worse than that is the advice they give to you afterwards. Rather than telling
you to take responsibility for your actions and man up and learn not to do this
in the future, their advice is to be a completely immature punk who diverts
blame to anything other than himself. Yes, blame the fact that it was raining
as the reason you didn’t choose to swallow your pride, blame the stars for the
girl walking away from you! It’s totally okay; it’s not like they care! It
totally doesn’t make you look like an idiot for the thing that we were just
saying was your fault but are now trying to tell you not to blame yourself for!
At
this point, the fact that Fab Morvan and Rob Pilatus were lip-syncing the whole
thing is just the cherry on top of what was already a melted sundae topped with
horseradish and lint. I’m not a fan of most break-up songs, but as far as
transparently trying to avoid guilt or the understanding of the complexities of
relationships, this is in a league of its own as far as I’m concerned. Milli
Vanilli, I’m not going to take your advice, because I know exactly who’s to
blame for this: you and the studio hacks that wrote, produced, and truly sang
it.
#8.
I
don’t think I need to state that the Commodores were a good band. They weren’t
great, but they did have plenty of iconic songs to them. Even Lionel Richie was
able to present some stellar material while he was with the group, though still
not that often. I bring this up because I want to concede that the man has at
least made some good music and didn’t always suck. That becomes much more
difficult to say nowadays because his solo career offers no defense.
#8. Hello (Lionel Richie) [2 weeks; May
12-19, 1984]
Sadly,
with disco having been thoroughly killed off at this point, there wasn’t any
way Lionel Richie was going to see any further success by making music from
that genre. Instead, he opted towards the soft rock ballads that were growing
steadily more popular. So you can add his name to the list of artists who broke
off from their bands to make garbage music on their own.
Now
then, let’s go through the laundry list of problems with this song. First,
there’s the obvious problem: the lyrics. The song is about how the narrator is
in love with someone that seemingly doesn’t even know he exists. The lengths he
goes to with describing his love, however, lean a bit on the creepy side. “I’ve
been alone with you inside my mind/And in my dreams I’ve kissed your lips a
thousand times”. If Lionel Richie weren’t so unthreatening this might’ve been a
more concerning song, but ultimately it’s just pitiful and weak.
That
weakness persists even in the instrumentation. The tone of the song seems
confused about what it’s trying to convey. The verses have this eerie, almost
haunting sound that seems to suggest that Lionel Richie’s going to murder this
girl. Then it gets to the chorus and becomes this soft, sweeping thing that
completely lacks any hint of self-awareness. Compare this to The Police’s
infinitely superior ‘Every Breath You Take’, which at least knew it wasn’t
romantic in any way and owned the persona it presented, where ‘Hello’ seems too
confused to know what it wants to be.
I
recognize that it was the ‘80s and the phrases and their context were
interpreted differently back then compared to how they are today. That said,
even when this came out, why would anyone want to listen to this? There were
other love songs being released at the time that were a million times better!
So no, Lionel Richie, it’s not you I’m looking for. You may say “Hello”, but
all I have to say is “Good bye, good luck, and get out”!
#7.
1988
was likely the worst year of the ‘80s. There were a number of tragedies that
occurred this year, but that’s not why. No, as far as #1 songs were concerned,
this year had some of the worst. Yes, this year put ‘Sweet Child o’ Mine’ by
Guns ‘n’ Roses up to #1, but do you know what peaked atop Billboard almost
immediately after it?
#7. Don’t Worry, Be Happy (Bobby McFerrin)
[2 weeks; September 24-October 1, 1988]
I
realize I’m probably pissing a lot of people off by saying I don’t like this
song, but to be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure why. I recognize that
there are positive things to be said about this song; like that it was the
first a cappella hit song. Also, it came out at a time when people probably
could’ve used a bit of levity what with the Cold War still lingering over
everyone like the Sword of Damocles. Yet despite this, I can’t find it in me to
enjoy it. Why is that?
While
I’m not sure I have coherent reasoning for why I hate this song, I do have a
few theories. First and foremost, the attitude of the singer comes across as
insufferably smug. It feels like he’s trying to come across like one of those
snake oil salesmen who have the ultimate remedy for all ails in the form of his
simple philosophy that’s just the thing everyone needs. It’s that same attitude
of acting like they have all the answers when you didn’t ask the question that
also makes it difficult for me to enjoy most religious music or white-guy-with-acoustic-guitar
songs.
Of
course, there’s also the possibility that the problem is a bit more personal.
This is something I don’t often discuss with people, but I’m struggling with
severe anxiety and depression, so I have trouble finding joy in a lot of
things, even activities that I used to enjoy. So hearing a song tell me that
finding happiness is as simple as choosing to be happy over gradually
overcoming one’s inner demons and fighting to find a reason to keep living just
comes across as ignorant, thoughtless, and inconsiderate.
I
will admit that I’m not entirely sure if those are the true reasons why this
song rubs me the wrong way, but that doesn’t change the fact that it does. I’m
sure most of you are surprised that I’m saying that I could possibly hate this
more than ‘Abracadabra’, ‘Hello’, or any of Milli Vanilli’s songs, but I do.
Nothing about this song connects with me, and despite what I’ve said, I’m still
unable to deduce why that is. With that said, I’d like to focus my efforts on my
disdain for something I can tangibly identify my reasons for hating, such as…
#6.
Just
a warning, if you’ve read my previous lists, some of these top picks will get
incredibly predictable. With that said…
#6. Jack & Diane (John Cougar) [4 weeks;
October 2-23, 1982]
This
song still sounds like a mess, no matter how many times I hear it. John Cougar
still sounds like he’s desperately trying and failing to emulate Bob Dylan, and
it still reeks of old-timey folk music, and not the stuff that’s aged well either.
Of course, I’ve said all of this before on my worst of ’82 list, so you’re
probably better checking that out if you want a full critique of the song.
If
I had anything to add about this, it would have to be that it’s a shame that
this was John Cougar’s only #1 hit because he had some decent songs in him.
Even he didn’t seem to like this one though, considering the problems he had
with making it. The clapping, for example, was originally supposed to be
removed from the final version of the song, but he realized it didn’t work
without something to keep the tempo. Bottom line, this song is a train wreck
that only gets worse each time I hear it. Life may go on after the thrill of
living is gone, but this song sputters out like a dying motorboat and sinks like
a rock. Next!
#5.
As
it happens, ‘Hello’ wasn’t the worst thing Lionel Richie did in the ‘80s. That
would be the creation of one of the most infamous star-studded charity singles,
and probably one of the few to make it to #1 on Billboard.
#5. We Are the World (USA for Africa) [4
weeks; April 13-May 4, 1985]
Technically,
this was a collaborative effort between Lionel Richie and Michael Jackson, so
that would explain how this song became a hit. Chances are my younger readers
are more familiar with the 2010 remake of this song made for Haiti after the
earthquake that year. If so, I’ll warn you right now this version isn’t much
better.
So,
what’s the problem with this song? Well, to understand its failings, we should
start by identifying what the song does right. It manages to pull together a
large group of different artists, some of who were the best of their time, and
who likely never would’ve collaborated with each other otherwise. Also, they
did everything they could to make each artist sound their best. So, at the very
least this song has star power behind it. Also, it’s supporting a good cause:
donating money to support starving families in Africa during a time when the
people there were suffering from a serious famine. That’s a noble cause and isn’t
exactly something to turn one’s nose up at.
Unfortunately,
the list of positive qualities about this song stops there. There are a number
of problems with this song, but probably the biggest one is the lyrics. They
try to sound earnest and heartfelt, but instead they come across as
egotistical, right down to the title of the song: “We are the world”. The other problem with this song is that it
repeats the chorus about fifty times at the end of the song, causing the whole
thing to clock in just over seven minutes in length. The chorus takes up over
half the song, and it’s a pretty bad chorus too. In addition, the whole thing
is just slow and tedious in some vain attempt to sound dramatic and bigger than
it is.
All
this and likely more are the reasons why no one takes this song seriously
anymore. It did succeed in receiving over $63 million, equal to about $138
million today, for humanitarian aid in Africa and the US. So, at the very least
something good came from this song’s existence. Bit of a shame the song by
itself is such a meaningless cloud of fluff that can’t stand on its own merits.
I’m not the world, I’m not the children; I’m just some dork on the Internet who
thinks this song is garbage.
#4.
Can
we please stop making songs with weak excuses to justify cheating? Please?
#4. Human (The Human League) [1 week;
November 22, 1986]
As
harsh as I was to this song back on my worst of ’86 list, I think I might have
underplayed its horribleness! The first verse of the song goes on about how the
singer wants his love that he cheated on to stop crying and acts like he cares
about her. Then it follows that up with excuses to justify his actions,
including the “I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you; I just needed someone
to hold” cliché. Then there’s the girlfriend admitting that she cheated on the
guy. It serves no purpose except to justify his cheating on her.
Of
course, it is especially terrible when compared to The Human League’s other #1
hit single in the ‘80s: ‘Don’t You Want Me’, which at least had a pulse and
felt like it was coming from someplace real. At the very least it had a catchy
hook, something ‘Human’ completely lacks. Unfortunately, by 1986, since soft
rock was taking off, it only made sense that the Human League would hitch onto
the bandwagon along with everyone else. Don’t hate me for not liking your song,
Human League. I’m only human; it’s in my nature to have an opinion, and mine
regarding this song is that it’s crap.
#3.
It
pains me to have to make an apology regarding this next song, because if anyone
should be apologizing, it’s the artist that made it. Still, when I screw up my
facts, I feel like it’s my responsibility to correct myself. So, without
further ado…
#3. Glory of Love (Peter Cetera) [2 weeks;
August 2-9, 1986]
Remember
how I went on a rant about how Peter Cetera’s voice sounded terrible with the
auto-tune he was using on his voice? Well, if I’d bothered to do my research, I
would’ve found out that auto-tune wasn’t introduced until 1997. So I apologize
for that mistake folks. I don’t know what vocal effect was used, but it wasn’t
auto-tune. It’s still a crappy effect and grates on my ears when I listen to
the song though. Not much else to say besides that, honestly. This song’s still
tripe and I feel sick every time I hear it. Moving along!
#2.
One
artist has referred to this next song as the worst song ever recorded. For me,
it only placed at #2 on this list.
#2. Red Red Wine (UB40) [1 week; October 15,
1988]
UB40
are just an ugly band. Their sound is the blandest, stiffest, most sterile form
of cod reggae that doesn’t take any chances and has no flavor. This didn’t end
up the band’s biggest hit, but it’s the song everyone associates with them.
That infuriates me because it’s a cover of a song by Neil Diamond, an artist UB40
don’t deserve to even be mentioned in the same breath as.
So,
what are the differences between the two versions? Let’s start with Neil
Diamond’s version. It’s a more somber, acoustic ballad about a man trying to
get himself drunk enough to forget his memories of the times with someone he
loved, since he can’t let them go otherwise. It’s a fairly emotionally gripping
song that expertly demonstrates Diamond’s songwriting and lyrical skills. Just
the opening line alone is enough to convey all the pain and distress going on
through the narrator’s mind. It’s admittedly not my favorite Neil Diamond song,
but it’s still a decent one.
So,
how does UB40 ruin the song? Well, let’s take out all that emotional heft and
replace it with soggy instrumentation that sounds like it needs to be hung out
to dry. Then, let’s couple that with Ali Campbell’s reedy, barely annunciating
voice that sounds like someone’s slowly crushing his balls. Finally, how about
we top it off with a rap verse that serves no purpose but to pad out the song.
It’s
worth noting that this song barely cracked the top 40 when it originally
charted in the US in 1984. I can only assume it charted again four years later
because they performed it at the Nelson Mandela 70th Birthday
Concert. It confuses me why they’d choose to perform this song at that concert,
since tributes are usually meant to celebrate the life of someone that just
died, while this song is all about struggling to forget about them. That seems
like it’s in bad taste guys. Even ignoring that, it’s still a musical
equivalent to mold and fungus growing in your home; gross, festering, and never
seeming to go away. Forget wine; I’m chugging a barrel of ale to forget about
this song!
#1.
It
was a bit of a struggle putting this list together. Some lists come easy, some
take time to properly form and come together. Over the last two months, I’ve
been sitting through the worst that the ‘80s had to offer. Of course, after all
that, I feel like this next song was an appropriate choice for the #1, since
it’s already recognized by many as one of the worst songs ever written. So,
without further ado: the worst #1 hit song of the 1980s.
#1. Get Outta My Dreams, Get into My Car
(Billy Ocean) [2 weeks; April 9-16, 1988]
When
I first listened to this song while going through Billy Ocean’s discography, I
glossed over it. I didn’t think much of it at the time because it just didn’t
seem like that significant of a song. Turns out, it was one of the biggest hits
of his career. I’ll say this much at least: it doesn’t sound like he was trying
to be Lionel Richie with this song; it firmly established an identity for Billy
Ocean, and almost immediately afterwards he stopped having further success.
Listening to this song, it’s not hard to understand why.
First
of all, let’s talk about that title. I’m not sure if he intended it this way,
or if people in the late ‘80s interpreted it as such, but that has to be one of
the creepiest pick-up lines he could’ve possibly come up with. “Get out of my
dreams, get into my car” is the kind of thing child molesters say to
unsuspecting kids before they abduct them. The rest of the lyrics don’t fair
much better, especially the ones about being, “Like a road runner/Coming after
you”.
Then
there’s the instrumentation, which just sounds like a cacophonous mish-mash of
random noises jumbled into this giant ball of annoyance. Even the opening notes
are just a bunch of car sounds! The melody line isn’t much better, basically
just being a few chords blasted out with little consistency regarding their
timing or rhythm. It almost sounds like the theme song to a bad cartoon: just
thoughtless sounds strewn together with no rhyme or reason other than to keep
the children’s attention long enough that they won’t annoy the parents too much.
In
case it isn’t clear, the last two songs are the primary reason why I don’t
think 1988 was a particularly good year for music. Even if the rest of the
music from that year was good, how can it justify having music like this making
it all the way to #1? If there’s anything I’ve noticed about the worst songs
that came out that year, it’s that they seem to have tones that clash with the
subject matters of the songs. In this song’s case, it tries to sound romantic
and smooth, but it instead sounds rapey and uncomfortable, and it’s for this
reason that it makes it right to the top of this list. ‘Get Outta My Dreams,
Get into My Car’ by Billy Ocean, a fitting choice for the worst #1 hit song of
the 1980s.
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