Meatloaf "I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)"

*****Number One, November 5th, 1993*****

Hot on the heels of last week's thoroughly successful randomization modification, we return to the charts today to consider five new options for my pointless poking and prodding.  Below is the the most recent batch of number one songs from music history that those industrious ghosts of the internet have sent my way.  The list is strong.  

And, more than a little bit relationshippy.  

I mean, sure, the entire universe of songs is pretty much built on the foundation of the topic of humans and their odd proclivity for wanting to kanoodle with other humans.  Whether it's pre-kanoodle, post-kanoodle, or raging against the kanoodling machine, it's an extremely familiar device.  But, based on my initial knowledge of the selections in this group, they all feel to be on very similar footing.  

To help check this theory out, and assess my pick for this particular post, I'll grab a couplet from each tune.  Hey, couplet, couple.  Ooh!  Hey I am being clever, which is working out great for me, thanks for asking, Brad.  

Whoa, totally unplanned symmetry here

*March 26, 2004*

Usher (featuring Lil Jon and Ludacris) "Yeah"

Key Couplet

"Yeah! Okay (Usher, Usher, Usher)

Lil' Jon"

Ok, I know, this song is not about the dudes performing it.  It pertains to clubs, fancy ladies and all those unsavory yet enticing things that old white guys like me have no connection with anymore (or ever really have, if I'm honest). However, it's always nice to mention your bros, and I'm sure they feel very special for the honor.  Friendship is a relationship too!  I won't bother you guys, go have fun.

*January 24, 2000*

Christina Aguilera "What a Girl Wants"

Key Couplet

"Whatever keeps me in your arms

And I'm thanking you for being there for me"

I considered selecting this song for the post, until I pulled the video up.  Ehhrr, not comfortable. I feel like just by watching part of it that I was placed on some sort of official list of potential online sleazes.  Seriously, Christina is really, really young in that clip.  I googled a bunch of early-bird specials and 401K discussions to wash it away.  Yeeks.  So dirty.

*November 5, 1993*

Meatloaf "I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)

Key Couplet

"Maybe I'm crazy, but it's crazy, and it's true"

Yes, yes it is true.  But, please hold on Mr Loaf, we'll get to the crazy.

*April 4, 1963*

The Chiffons "He's So Fine"

Key Couplet

"He's a soft-spoken guy

Also seems kind of shy"

Clearly, I should have come of age in the early sixties.  As unqualified as I am to live in an Usher song, I'm that inversely suited to appeal to the ladies of this period.  Looking for someone who lingers in the corners, barely speaking above a whishper with anyone?  I'm your guy!  Wow, thanks probably-dead ladies, I appreciate it.  For that, I won't fiddle with your chart topping smash.  It's perfect as is!

*October 12, 1962*

The Four Seasons "Sherry"

Key Couplet

"Sherry baby (Sherry baby, Sherry baby)"

Honestly, it doesn't matter how good or bad the words are in this song (they're awful), I just can't stand the singer's sound.  I know, Frankie Valli; famously Italian be-suited guy your grandmother probably once had a lewd thought about.  But, man, this tune is grating.  I'd be happy never to hear it again.  This is why nobody is named Sherry anymore.

I won't even drink Sherry! The song is that annoying.  

So...Meat.  Yup, that's the one we're going with.  Why?  Oh, there are reasons.  Way more than I can possibly list here, of course.  I mean, the man had a huge career before and after striking number one gold.  I could only cherry pick the more interesting aspects to display here.  The details below are allegedly true.  My comments that follow each bullet, eh, less so.

Let's start with the obviously needed factoids about the guy himself.

• He slept in a plastic crib, and for the nametag, his father asked a nurse to write "Meat" because he looked like "nine and a half pounds of ground chuck."  The nametag indeed read "Meat", and that became a childhood nickname.  The "loaf" part came when he was a heavyset teenage football player.  
• Sports nicknames are just the worst.  As are alcoholic fathers.
• In addition to more famous appearances in the Rocky Horror Picture Show and Fight Club, he also can be found playing drums in the WWF video "Land of 1,000 Dances" and as a bus driver in The Spice Girls movie.  
• When you've share a craft service table with the Iron Sheik and Sporty Spice, you've had a life. 
• He identifies as Christian, supports the New York Yankees, and endorsed Mitt Romney for president in 2012.  
• So, he's got that white/rich thing going for him, which is nice.  For him.

Cool, great.  Hmm, what about the music video for this number one hit?

• Michael Bay directed it.  Seriously.  
• There were almost no Transformers involved.
• Daniel Pearl was the cinematographer.  He is most famous for filming The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  Also seriously.  
• There were definitely no Transformers in that.
• According to one studio executive, "it probably had the budget of Four Weddings and a Funeral."   
• There is no clarification as to why this random movie, of all things, is used as the barometer for music video spending.  However, it is fun to use this to ascertain the overall cost of other videos.  Using this calculation, we can surmise that November Rain by Guns N' Roses costed a whopping three and a half Four Weddings and a Funeral, while Left of the Dial by The Replacements came in at just one-thirty-second of said film.  Fascinating!

Amazing stuff.  Really.  Ok then, we should move on to the song itself.

• It reached number one in 28(!) different countries
• I've been to eight different countries.  I can vouch that twenty-eight is more than eight, and is a lot.
• The tune was used in an M&M commercial AND the flick Sausage Party.  
• Wow.  Just, wow.
• British adventurer and noted urine drinker Bear Grylls cites this song as his inspiration to apply for selection into the Special Air Service.  He said "Enthusiasm and determination count for so much more than skills, brains or qualifications...and all this expressed itself to me through Meatloaf's song!"  
• The exclamation point is his, apparently.  

But I will do that!

The song essentially had three different versions released.  For radio, they used the shortest cut at just over five minutes (which is still pretty lengthy, to be fair).  The music video supported a version that ran nearly eight minutes.  The album track itself clocked in at a cool twelve minutes.  Twelve!

That's like, six Ramones songs.  Sheesh.

Thus, lets talk about the lyrics.  There are a freakin' lot of 'em.

Though there are instrumental interludes in the full song, as well as motorcycles (because...I don't know, vroom), the word salad is massive.  As you'd suspect, there is a lot of repetition about love, specifically regardings things he would do for it, and things he wouldn't.  The song is long on explanations, and they occasionally read like a goth teen's diary.

"Some days it don't come easy

Some days it don't come hard

Some days it don't come at all

Some days I work at Hot Topic in the mall"

At about the two-thirds point, after roughly a hundred kajillion sentiments about his commitment to this whole love thing, the lyrics change a bit.  We enter a question and answer phase of the music.  In what I thought may be an attempt by Meatloaf to showcase his abilities as a gameshow host (his true calling), a half-dozen queries are laid out in the text.  

But, hang on, in listening to the tune, he's not the one asking these questions in the song.  Another singer is asking them of him.  No wonder he never got that gig at Card Sharks.  Really poor planning, sir.

Anywho, his object of desire (the loaf-ette, if you will, though please don't) lays out her needs in this series of asks.  They start off fairly benign:

"Will you get me right out of this godforsaken town?"

Yeah, of course!  This place sucks.  It only has chain restaurants and there are almost no other dudes named Meatloaf.  Lame!

"Will you make it all a little less cold?"

Um, sure babe, I'll go give the thermostat a degree or two bump.  Or you could put on a sweater?  I mean, the gas bill is kind of high.  No big deal, it's just that, ya know, my job isn't paying as well as I thought, and your home candle-making business isn't bringing in as much cash as we hoped.  But, no, it's fine.  It's fine!  I'll go turn the heat up.

From there, well, the stakes go up more than a tad.

"Will you cater to every fantasy I got?"

All of them!?!?!  Even the one with the giant jars of pickle juice, eight trained gophers, and the corpse of Lee Trevino?  I mean, how would I do that?  And I don't even know if Lee Trevino is dead.  That could put a fly in the ointment.

"Will you take me places I've never known?"

How would I...sure.  Sure.  You've never known Shoney's, right?  Let's go to Shoney's.

This tiring and tiresome tune finally ends with one of these two incredibly difficult people proclaiming that they won't cheat on the other.  That's the "that" they won't "do".  Then the song ends.  That's it.  All of these promises and requirements and motorcycles and werewolves (that's what he is in the video, right?) and the payout is that he promises he won't shtupp the lady running the smoke machine.  That's number one across the planet.  Oy.

Meatloaf stuffed with cheese.  Check please.

I've gotta say, while I figured this top hit to be a little bit ridiculous, I didn't expect to roll my eyes so many times.  Not having ever stepped toe into this guy's world of music, there were hopes that maybe something weird or cool bubbled underneath.  Long hair, odd fashion choices, iconic film roles, seems like there could be something in here that had some heft.

Nope. Nada.

Can't believe it.  I should've been drinking sherry this whole time.

Jimmy Gilmer and the Fireballs "Sugar Shack"

*****Number One, October 28th, 1963*****

Thus far in Season 2 of my breakdown, er, The Breakdown, we've taken a look at five different number one songs.  Each top hit was chosen completely at random using a date generator site called, unsurprisingly, Random.org.  To use it, I simply enter two dates, and it spits out a single day from somewhere between them.  That resulting spot on the calendar is then cross-referenced with the Billboard charts, which ultimately tells me which top track in music history I'll be writing about that week.

It's kind of fun and exciting to see the reveal.  However, as I've now found out after a quintet of posts, it's also a little...frustrating.

The window of time I give the machine is fairly large, more than six decades. That's because I want to include every number one of the modern chart era. The "Hot 100" began all the way back in August of 1958.  So, if a tune made it to the top, it deserves a chance to be chosen whether or not I've heard it, or even heard of it.  That's part of the charm for me, and I'm sure it's also a delight for the many ones of readers who intentionally click on this site.  

For the people accidentally ending up on my blog because you asked the googles to find singles in your area who may have broken down, I'm truly sorry.  Though there is only a solo me, this breakdown is in your soul, not your car.  Keep looking for individuals, and whatever Billy Ocean tells you to do, please don't do it.

I hope that helps.

It likely doesn't.

Anyway, I don't really know how the randomizer algorithm works, though I assumed the dates received would be fairly spread out.  But, to this point in using it, here are the years I've gotten (in order):

• 1973
• 1969
• 1982
• 1978
• 1972

This feels very, I don't know, bunchy.  There are almost sixty-two years to choose from, and this first group of results covers a period of time equal to barely a quarter of that.  Why?  That feels almost pre-ordained, like perhaps the stupid technology is setup to pick something close to the middle of the date range rather than a day near either end of the spectrum.  Perhaps it's because time is a flat circle.  

That's a relevant pop culture thingy, right?  That phrase from that show that I never watched?  The one with Woody from Cheers but without dragons?  Right?  Sounds right.  I've got a gift for being on fleek with my groovy language.  So I've been LOL'd.

I know, I look young for my age

Regardless, I'm feeling less willing to allow the (maybe) random whims of some internet doo-floppy to select the weekly material.  Some human interaction seems necessary to even things out.

And to avoid any more disco ever again, of course.

Fortunately, the selection site does allow for multiple dates to be spat out at a time.  So, rather than getting a single mandatory day from which to draw a line to given song, I've got a full five to connect.  That way, I'm not forced to dwell solely within a dictated generation, and we can keep things a bit more varied.  See, robots and humans can work together!  I'm sure this will all lead to a better world.

Um, that's a bad touch, Edward.

Now, without further ado (cause there's been too much ado in this space already), let's look at this week's five options.  Here is what the machinery dispensed.  Let's take a gander at these beauties, and evaluate their potential.

*November 12, 2014*

Meghan Trainor "All About That Bass"

Do I know it?  Yup.  It's about that bass.  All of it.

Claim to Fame?  Per Wikipedia, and I quote, "This song was noted for discussing booty as part of physical attractiveness."  Ah, so, this is the one. 

Should I select it?  Unofficially, she uses the phrase "'bout that bass" thirty three times in this song.  I counted.  What can I possibly add to that?  Nothing.  So, pass.

*November 3, 1993*

Mariah Carey "Dreamlover"

Do I know it?  Sheesh, everyone knows it.

Claim to Fame?  Mariah Carey.  That's it.  She's famous for being herself.  Spooky.

Should I select it?   She's already kinda popular.  Do people really like to read about celebrities?  

*February 12, 1992*

Right Said Fred "I'm Too Sexy"

Do I know it?  To paraphrase Sideshow Cecil, "Goodness I had no idea.  For, you see, I had been on Mars.  In a cave with my eyes shut and my fingers in my ears."

Claim to Fame?  They're too sexy.  But, you knew that already, didn't you?

Should I select it?   100,466,000 people watched the most recent Super Bowl, and nobody blogged about that, right?  Oh.  Well, still, I'm passing on this tune.  Re-living it would be like test driving a Toyota Corolla.  It's been done a zillion times, why bother.

*January 20, 1974*

Al Wilson "Show and Tell"

Do I know it?  Doesn't ring any bells.

Claim to Fame?  Oof, well, it was played on Letterman whenever he did a segment called Show and Tell. Thanks Paul, that's very clever. 

Should I select it?   On the 1974 charts, it hit number one immediately after The Steve Miller Band's "The Joker" and right before Ringo Starr's "You're Sixteen."  I feel like the Randomizer is trying to sneak this one in here.  Bad computer, bad!

*October 28, 1963*

Jimmy Gilmer and the Fireballs "Sugar Shack"

Do I know it?  Nope, not by name.  But, what a name!

Claim to fame?  Suprisingly, at least to me, there is one.  It seems this hit has been used in films like Mermaids, Forrest Gump, and Congo.  WOW!  I've seen all three of those flicks, and I've gotta say two of them were among the worst movies I've ever suffered through in my life.  And, I ain't throwing stones at the Cher/Winona/Christina troika there.  Seriously, I hate that Gump nonsense with every fiber of my being.  With all due respect Mr Hanks, take your damn chocolates and shove 'em!

Should I select it?  Well, you already know that I did, based on the title of this post.  So... 

Everything's coming up Canada!

Firstly, no, we're not talking about those charming cottages (like the one pictured above) scattered throughout the northeastern provinces that will sell you syrup and syrup-related delights.

Nor are we talking about The Sugar Shack Gentleman's Club (not pictured here, cause you know why) which lies within the scattered nothingness of Salem Oregon that will sell you slightly less syrup but excessive syrup-related delights.  

It's best not to think about that.

What we are discussing is, quite impressively, the number one song in all of 1963.  This tune carried the throne at a time when popular music was just starting to get more diverse.  Surf rock pioneers Jan and Dean had a top hit that year, as did a new artist with the peculiar name of Little Stevie Wonder.  Not sure what happened to that guy.  I...wonder.

Hold for laugh.  

Still holding.

Along with some new blood, however, there were still an awful lot of crooning white dudes gumming up the radio works.  It was very much the style of the time to grease up the hair of some safe looking pasty fellows, stick them in formal duds, and send them out to try and harmonize their way to a girl's heart.  This was a time when ladies wore approximately seventeen layers of undergarments, so getting to her heart was harder than you think. 

Most of these releases were moderately catchy, fairly cheesy, and likely to contain at least one double-entendre that you needed a headlamp and a pickaxe to uncover.  Usually they were also worded pretty simply and ran very short (this tune clocks in at a whopping 2:06).  So, let's look at the lyrics for this classic number one.  There are essentially three parts:

Stanza 1

There's a crazy little shack beyond the tracks

And everybody calls it the sugar shack

Well, is just a coffeehouse and its made of wood

Espresso coffee tastes mighty good

That's not the reason why I've got to get back

To that sugar shack, whoa baby

To that sugar shack

I don't want to judge too harshly, but spending four lines to tell me about the features of a place, only to say "never mind, none of that matters" in the fifth feels a bit of a cheat.  It's like when you read the praise on the back cover of a book, and realize all those compliments are about the author's prior book, not the one you're holding.  Excuse me, how does that help anything?

Stanza 2

There's this cute little girlie, she's a-working there

A black leotard and her feet are bare

I'm gonna drink a lot of coffee, spend a little cash

Make that girl love me when I put on some trash

You can understand why I've got to get back

To that sugar shack, whoa baby

To that sugar shack, yeah honey

To that sugar shack,whoa yes

To that sugar shack

It should be noted that one of the three credited songwriters for this tune is Fay Voss.  Per Wikipedia, she got that credit after she was asked by her nephew "what those tight pants that girls wear" are, and she replied "leotards."  That's it.  That's all she did.  So, remember, anytime anyone asks you anything, give them an answer!  You might get credit for writing a number one song!  

Stanza 3

Now that sugar shack queen is a-married to me, yeah yeah

We just sit around and dream of those old memories

Ah, but one of these days I'm gonna lay down tracks

In the direction of that sugar shack

Just me and her yes we're gonna go back

To that sugar shack

He wants to have a three-way with coffee?  Hmm, ok.  What can I say, it was a different time.

Well, anyway, there you have it.  We forced the machine to give us something new, and in doing so, pulled the oldest number one I'd heard so far.  Is it a good song?  Eh, listen for yourself.  I can't say it'll be on my next mixtape, but it's very much of its age, and also sort of fun.  Perhaps you'll hear it in the next utterly awful flick you see.  So, listen now, and that way you can walk out of the theater knowing you won't miss a single thing.

This blog is nothing if not helpful.

Ok, it's pretty much nothing.  'Nuff said.

Neil Young "Heart of Gold"

*****Number One, March 14, 1972*****


Neil Young!  Canadian!

How Canadian?

This Canadian!

Yep, that's him, rooting (if you consider sullenly staring forward to be rooting, which I do, because that me) on the home team at the good old hockey game.  In this case, he's silently urging on his and my favorite squadron, the San Jose Sharks.  There he sits, surrounded by jersey-clad compatriots, fully invested in the game of the Great White North.  As others scream and yell "Go Sharks" he remains perfectly still.  His hands in his lap, gripped tightly out of furious anxiety and a knowing/crushing feeling that certain doom is on its way.

How do I know this last part?

Trust me, I know

Sigh.

Anyway, today we focus our bloggy attention on this hall of fame artist.  Now, you might think that having a first name and hockey fandom in common would have made it extremely likely that I'd gravitate towards the man.  Maybe at some point in my life?  Uh, well, nope.  Somewhat suprisingly, I don't recall a moment where I ever considered hunkering down with some of Mr Young's finest.  I definitely know of him and have always been impressed by his career and ability as a musician.  And, I'm kind of, sort of, familiar with a handful of his tunes.  However, I've never really taken to his work.  

I can't say exactly why.  Perhaps it's that almost mandated respect music fans are told to have towards our rumpled folk heroes.  I generally tend to bristle at such requirements and sometimes ignore artists out of rote stubborness as a dumb form of rebellion. 

You and me both, Jyn.

Thus, by kicking any sort of suggested fandom to the curb, I've missed out on the catalogs of a plethora of all-timers in the music world.  That's probably a shame.  Although, let's be realistic, having longevity and sales in this business doesn't automatically indicate quality.  Anyone can look at a list of best-selling bands and find some, uh *coughMaroon5cough* questionable talent.

For now, though, I'll put aside my deep disdain for nostalgia and tradition as it relates to the "greats" and give Mr Young the attention he deserves.  Well, I'll listen to one song, and only 'cause the Randomizer, not the Man, told me to.  Hooray for loopholes!  USA! USA! USA!

Oops, sorry.

Canada!  Canada!  Canada!

Hmm, that doesn't seem quite right.  Pretty sure they don't shout their country's name with such ruthless egotism up there.  Plus, Canadians are far too polite to use exclamation points.  

See?

With that, we return to topic.  Let's see what sort of language today's specific canuck believes in.  

Straight from a time before a less-musical but more-bloggery Neil began stumbling upon this mishapen planet, we get this week's number one.  The song "Heart of Gold" with backing vocals provided by none other than James Taylor AND Linda Ronstadt, spent just a single week on top of the US charts.  With such an impressive pedigree, it's a surprise it didn't reign for a bit longer.

Another shock, it would be the only tune from Neil Young that would ever visit that coveted spot.  He never returned to the top of the American mountain.  This tune will be the only one from him to ever appear on this site.

I know that will be disappointing for him, but he's a Sharks fan.  He's used to disappointment.

Anywho.

Let's look at the lyrics of this hit.  I think I'm familiar with it, but I've falsely assumed familiarity before, so you never know.

Heart of Gold

I want to live

I want to give

I've been a miner for a heart of gold

It's these expressions

I never give

That keep me searching for a heart of gold

And I'm getting old

Keep me searching for a heart of gold

And I'm getting old

Hmm, can't say this rings any bells, but I like it quite a lot and think it straight up my word-alley.  Although, hang on, when this song came out, he was how old?  Checking the interwebs...

26.

26 years old when he wrote that.  Hmmph, my hipster detector just went off.  Honestly, if some twenty-something dude in an adult-y hat released a song now with the refrain "I'm getting old" I might just have to slug him.  Irony is wasted on the young.  That said, I'll let it slide this time.  Please continue, fellow Neil...

I've been to Hollywood

I've been to Redwood

I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold

I've been in my mind

It's such a fine line

That keeps me searching for a heart of gold

And I'm getting old

Keep me searching for a heart of gold

And I'm getting old

Keep me searching for a heart of gold

You keep me searching and I'm growing old

Keep me searching for a heart of gold

I've been a miner for a heart of gold

And, that's a lyrical wrap.  Can't say it looks familiar at all to me, so obviously I absconded from the responsibility of hearing this tune earlier in my life.  Too bad.  This genre of song is typically the type of introspective melancholy that my dum-dum brain latches onto.  

Perhaps I'll try to make the effort and give a thorough listen to his stuff at some point soon.  It's always nice to find some new music, even if it came out before you were born and is only new to you.  

Still.  I guess that I need to concede that not all popular music should be avoided, and much of it deserves a shot.

Except disco.

But you already knew that.

The Bee Gees "How Deep is Your Love"

*****Number One, January 5, 1978*****


Dictionary.com has, to my surprise, a definition of the slang term hold my beer.  Wedged between hobnocker ("a piece of construction equipment similar to a jackhammer, but sometimes used as an insult because it sounds dirty") and holler ("to shout, say hello, or hit on") resides the familiar-to-memers phrase.  Among the many explanations about what this term means and how its typically used is this bare bones summary; "On the internet, hold my beer is used to make fun of decisions that are seen to be bad..."

Why, might you ask, did I look this up?  Welp, in the prior blog post, I lamented quite a lot about what I feel is an especially terrible number one song.  I bemoaned the lyrically awful "Abracadabra" and wondered how such unlistenable music could become so popular.  And then, well, the randomizer did its thing for this week.

What a hobnocker.

Sigh. Welcome to my nightmare.

They don't make television like this anymore

Disco.  Is there anything worse?  Really.  I'm serious.  It ranks excruciatingly high on the overall list of most repugnant man-made creations ever.  And, to be honest, I think it qualifies to be up near the top.  Somewhere just above Peeps but barely below televangelists this dreck belongs.  Just miserable, unpleasant garbage.

(If I haven't been thoroughly clear yet, I'll say it plainly.  I don't like disco.  Did you get that so far?)

In terms of musical genres, it is the first pillar in the four-post foundation of tunes I cannot stand.  It finds its place among the likes of new country, psychedelic 70's, and that damn Mexican music with the jaunty accordian.  What is that stuff called, and why can't it be played at a decible level below insanity-inducing?

But, really, while I find those other three styles irritating, none of them hold a candle to the contempt I feel for disco.  It is brutally cheesy and utterly souless nonsense.  There is nothing good to be pulled from it.  Not the instrumentation, nor the lyrics, nor the style.  I'd listen to pretty much any other song rather than this week's number one.

Suddenly this guy doesn't seem so bad, right?

However, I have to review it.  Somehow.  The blog requires it.  I can't just light my computer on fire and walk away to avoid this reality.  I can't!  Well, my wife says I can't (shh, I'm still thinking about it).

Anywho, I have to consider other options.  Real, non-burn-y ones.

Harrumph.

In the past, as a way to augment my reviews, I'd run various tunes through an array of song translators.  Different languages, real and imagined, were used.  That seemed like a possible path through this current morass.  If I could take this shit and pass it through some kind of machine, maybe a nugget of...not shit would come out the other side.

Still gross, but not shit.

Thus, I tried that, using the always helpful Fun Translations site.  And, in keeping with this week being a celebration of all things Star Wars (happy May the 4th to all my nerdly nerd brothers and sisters), I thought, well that's the way to deal.  Let's take the worst creature in the galaxy, pictured above, and allow his ear-splitting tongue to take a stab at improving the worst single.  Will this repackaged tune be packing them into Mos Eisley's for years to come?  Let's see!

Here's only the chorus, in Gungan:
"How deep is yous shu, how deep is yous shu
How deep is yous shu?
Mesa really mean to learn
'cause wesa're liv in a world of fools
break us neb when desa all should let us be
wesa belong to yousa and mesa"

Nope.  Nope.  Nooooooooope.  Still shit.

Shit.

I struggled to find another way through this post's chart topper.  Fortunately, the news brought me one.  A deadly one!

what's in a name?

This week, while virus madness continued to take hold and throttle this country with equal parts illness and ignorance, a new menace appeared.  Not of the phantom variety, the murderous one!

Now, I'm not going to link to any stories about this deadly critter, which apparently just popped up in the state of Washington (hello neighbor please put up a giant screen door along the Columbia River thanks!).  It is a terribly large and vicious bug, and quite frankly, there's enough yuck and angst to read about in this country without seeing a graphic depiction of how this mini monster will destroy us all.

That said, it did give me an idea for how to deal with today's tune.

Let's take a focused gander at a particular aspect of this singing group.  Ignoring for a moment the music (if only I could), let's look instead only at the band's name.  Bee Gees.  Pretty weak, right?  I mean, bees are fine, but throwing a gee in there really takes that poor insect down a few pegs towards passive place.  Who's gonna be impressed or scared by that sort of thing?

Certainly not a murder hornet.  In fact, you could almost say that a murder hornet is exactly the opposite of a bee gee.  An antonym, if you will.

And I will.

MC Skat Kat knows opposites attract. He is all knowing. And creepy.

The only way to review "How Deep is Your Love" is to reverse it completely.  One hundred and eighty degrees.  We're taking the lyrics from this particular piece of top selling treacle and flipping them onto their dark opposites.  I can't review shit.  But I can review the opposite of shit, which is...well...hmm.

I'm not sure.

Let's find out!  With help of the creatively named Wordhippo.com and significantly less adorable Antonym.com, we're going songwriting.  Doing an exact mirror version of the tune would very likely be akin to crossing the streams (crossing the streams is bad Egon), so I'm not gonna go that far.  Instead, I'm bringing only some of the more pertinent actions and nouns to opposition town.

Here before you is the world premiere of the opening stanza and chorus from the inverted number one smash from the hottest and most dangerous new band; The Murder Hornets:

How Shallow is Your Hate
I know your unbelief in the nightfall dark
I feel you avoid me in the standing aridity
And the age that you stay in place near me
I want to extinguish you with my body again
And you leave me on a winter calm
Keep me cold in your hate, then you loudly arrive
And its me you should suppress

How shallow is your hate, how shallow is your hate
How shallow is your hate?
I really chance to unlearn
Cause we're dying in a meagerness of brains
They abandon me and you

I can hear the guttural growl of lead singer Hugo Gibb (the forgotten brother) already.  Now that's music, Volume 666!

With that done, I sincerely hope the next hit dispensed my way is something I at least slightly enjoy.  Internet?  Please?  Come on, I'm hollerin' here!

Steve Miller Band "Abracadabra"

*****Number One, August 29, 1982*****


If it isn't apparent yet, per my short exposition at the top of this site (and a few dozen prior blog posts within), I'm definitely a fan of lyrics.  Clever, funny, heartfelt, whatever they may be. It is far more likely I'll latch onto an artist if they're able to put together a word salad that grabs my attention, or my brain, or my guts.

The music matters also of course.  A lot.  Too much, sometimes.  I've certainly found myself on the wrong side of fandom regarding certain, immensely respected artists because I simply couldn't get past the sound.  And I get it. Yes, Bob Dylan has written some amazing songs.  And, yeah, I'm very probably missing out.  But, if it's all the same to him (and I think it is), I'd be just fine never hearing him ever again.  Nothing personal.  He's just not my cup of warmed-over warbling.

However, when it's a good tune and the songwriter nails ya right in the feels, man, there's nothing better.  A few years ago, a quirky acoustic melody I'd never heard came across my music feed.  Then the opening couplet started:

"Late afternoon, another day is nearly done
A darker grey is breaking through a lighter one"

What is this, I thought, and how can someone put together any better of a phrase to denote a miserable dark day than that?  The song, called "I Hate Winnipeg" is one of a plethora that hit me right where I live (or where I wanted to live).  I soon found myself grabbing each song from this group, The Weakerthans, and aborbing every bit of Canadian melancholy they produced into my heart and soul.  When the lead singer, John K Samson, spun off a couple of solo records, I grabbed them as well.  I mean, come on, look at this, from the song "Winter Wheat";

"Woke up in a parking lot, air mattress has gone flat
The sun's selecting targets for the shadows to attack
So make a visor with your hand, squint to where you're from
That lonely line of buildings you can block out with your thumb"

HOW DO YOU EVEN CONCEIVE TO WRITE THAT?  It totally breaks my brain.  So, so good.

I mean, good to me, obviously.  It's my blog after all.  However, everybody likes different things.  I get that.  If you don't like my music, that's fine.  It's FINE!  I don't mind.  REALLY!  Different strokes, and all those Gary Coleman-esque vibes.  It's just, well...

I mean...

The other side of the spectrum.  We all must admit, there are some terribly written songs.  And while I want to play the even-keeled adult and say "just because I don't like it doesn't mean it's bad and I didn't start this blog to slag on songs and..."

I...

I just...

Sigh...I guess I have to.

Look at this.  Just, look:

"Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya"

In a facepalmy world, that might be the facepalmiest thing ever

Did you read that?  DID YOU?  Here, again.

"Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya"

That's the chorus!  Of a number one song!!!

I mean!!!!!

Sorry for the excalamation points.  Hang on.

*Breathe*

Ok.

Grab ya?  GRAB YA!?!?  You're rhyming "cadabra" with "grab ya"?!?!?!!?!  What are you, a toddler?!?!?  I...

Apologies again.  Truly very sorry here.

Let's try and start this again.

The only acceptable form of magic

The Steve Miller Band.  Good?  Yes.  I think.  Well, they've sold a lot of records over the years, and had plenty of hits.  You, and I, likely know at least some of them.

• "The Joker"  We've all consumed it, probably on that classic rock station playing constantly while we sit and stare at the rusted out candy dispenser in the local Tube N' Lube auto repair shop.
• "Fly Like an Eagle"  Yeah, didn't some delivery company take it for their slogan?  
• "Jet Airliner"  Sounds familiar.  About planes?  I don't know, it could be a metaphor.
• "Take the Money and Run"  Uh, I'm guessing I've heard this tune.  Perhaps in a Moonlighting episode?  Miami Vice?  Er, something where Phil Collins is attempting acting.  I'm pretty sure.

Right, so, obviously, I'm not a huge fan here.  Despite my proclivity towards the rock genre, affection of the 70's style arena stuff just never gestated.  Not having an older brother nor a father in the midst of a mid-life crises further cemented a limited intake of these types of tunes.

However, I get it.  I don't dislike this band or style of rock, nor do I think it bad.  It's fine, and perfectly acceptable to have playing in the background while you fix a lawnmower or drink single syllable beers like Schlitz and Hamms.  But...

But.

This song.

The can to the right, and straight on till morning

Ok.  Let's try and go through it.  At least the starting bit.

First Stanza:
"I heat up, I can't cool down
You got me spinning, round and round
Round and round and round it goes
Where it stops nobody knows"

Now where's that facepalm gif again?

I like to imagine Steve Miller in his palatial magic-themed mansion (why not) sitting silently at a tophat-shaped desk.  A pencil waggles slowly between his thumb and forefinger, and his eyes stare vacantly at the ceiling.  He mumbles, to nobody but himself;

"Hmm, can I just say round and round and round it goes in the third verse, especially after I just said round and round in the second?  You know what?  Yes I can!  I can do anything!  I'm the space cowboy!!!"

I presume that, based on his recent work, a similar affliction has also taken over Quentin Tarantino.

To be honest, my inclination is to stop the blog post here.  Just end it.  Round and round and round it goes?  Nothing good can occur by regurgitating this repetitive nonsense.  However, before finally pulling the ripcord, I need to provide one more section.  Towards the end of the song, there's this couplet;

"Just when I think I'm gonna get away
I hear those words that you always say"

She's the one, not the narrator.  The woman you're in love with is the repugnant human being speaking this phrase.  And, she doesn't just say it, she "always" says it.

Allow me for a moment to put on my bro hat (it has the number sixty-nine on it, the bill is curled almost into a tube, and I'm wearing it backwards, naturally). 

"Dude, you need to leave this chick.  Nobody should stay with a person who always says abracadabra.  Nobody.  I don't know you, but you could do better."

<removing hat>

Aside from this song being truly awful, it also represents a terrible relationship.  How on earth did this go all the way to number one?  Oh, well, there was a video, maybe that holds a clue.

Ah, right, that

To be honest, I don't know how to end this post.  One of the worst songs ever to embed itself in my memory banks was chosen this week by the randomizer.  What did I do to deserve this?  Stuck at home during a pandemic, and the all-knowing luck-god of the internet looked my way and said in its most benevelent voice "Abracadabra, I'm gonna reach out and grab ya!"

Really?  I'm gonna reach out and grab ya?  That's what ghosts say.  Ghosts!  And stupid ghosts at that.

Thanks Steve Miller Band for introducing me to a land where dumb spirits like magic.

No wonder I want to move to Canada.

Diana Ross & The Supremes "Someday We'll Be Together"

*****Number One, December 31st, 1969*****


The last day of the 1960's.  I wasn't there for that, but I'm guessing it was quite a party.  Bigger than the Y2K celebration?  Hard to say.  Probably fewer computer glitches back then, likely more me throwing up in 1999.  That's just an estimate, of course.

From the purview of somebody on the outside looking in, that mid-century decade seems as tumultuous as any in modern times.  Even if you just focus on the music and ignore everything else occuring around the world, things were all over the map.

Great bands?  Well, sheesh take a look at this list, for one idea.  Some of the best work from the Beatles and the Stones and Dylan and Hendrix and the Beach Boys and, way, way, WAY too many more to name.  Truly an amazing era.

Though, of course, there was a downside to the times.

Biggest single, "Our White Van has no Windows"

More specific than that sub genre of Renaissance-Pedophile (Ren-Ped as the kids say, which of course they only say while running as quickly as possible in the opposite direction) is the hippie movement.  I realize many people hold these folks and their music in very high esteem.  I, however, have a lifelong aversion to the smells, the style, and the sounds of it.  Call me "the man" or some such nonsense if you must, but seeing a tie-dyed white guy with dreadlocks muse in immense detail about a certain twenty-seven minute keyboard solo makes me lose my collective palate for freedom.  The tunes were hokey and meandering and utterly ridiculous.  If you believe in balance, it leveled quite evenly the mastery being displayed by actual musicians on the other end of the spectrum.

That contrast feels like a major component of the times.  Look at the two big music festivals as well; Woodstock and Altamont.

One of these was considered the apex of the summer of love.  The other could have, legitimately, been called the winter of death.  I admonish Altamont fairly, I believe, based on the facts.  I am not foisting hatred on that land for personal reasons. 

Though I could. 

You see, I had to drive through it's boring, windmill-clad terrain a half-a-kajillion times growing up.  I grew up in the crappy town right next door.  And, to go east into even crappier lands, we had to travel through the never-ending sorriness of Altamont.  It's an unpleasant memory, one which I hold the hippies responsible.  Perhaps unfairly.  Nah.

It blows

Another bit of contradiction of the 1960's pertains to the band The Supremes.  During this decade, the hugely talented singing group made their first appearance.  And, over the course of those years, they accumulated a dozen number one hits. 

That's good! 

They didn't have a chart topper again.  Ever. 

That's bad.

Today's randomized top hit selection, "Someday We'll Be Together", was their twelfth and final song to reach the summit.  It held that slot for one week before disappearing, along with The Supreme's top tune mojo, into the brown morass that was the 1970's.

I didn't recognize this song at all by name, and upon listening to it, I still don't know it. Certainly this single never reached the heights of popularity nor managed as long a shelf life as the prior hits they made.  You could probably assume it did so well as a result of their already well-deserved fame, and not necessarily on its own merits.  Many artists have songs that overachieve simply because there are so many fans that love their work.  I don't mean that as a negative, just an observation.

So, "Someday We'll Be Together" was the summation of their hits.  It wasn't, however, the summary.  It really doesn't represent the complete entirety of these hot dozen tunes.  Each was a part of the puzzle, but there isn't one song that represents all the chart time they had.

Until now.

Supreme Leader leisure wear, now half off!

Making the Supreme Number One:

1. Take the lyrics from every number one Supremes song
2. Place them all in a word cloud thing-a-ma-bobber
3. Parse the text to get a list of the most used terms
4. Create genius!

It's almost too easy.  The only struggle is about how to structure the most perfect pop song.  Do I put the most repeated words into the chorus, or start them at the top?  It's the question every song-smith worth their salt in history has considered. 

Upon much reflection, I've settled on inserting top words into the chorus.  This is what the scores of fans will grab hold of and sing along to over and over again.  In fact, screw the rest of the song.  My supreme number one will only have a title and a chorus.  No verses!  No bridge!  Heck, no music even. Why bother.  Like Shakespeare said, it's the words dummy!

Always classy that guy.

Without further ado, please enjoy the most Supreme song of all.  It's title, unsurprisingly, is "Love".  That word is spoken 101 times total over the course of the prior dozen smashes!  Seems like a popular subject.  Please enjoy, and sing along if you know the words.

(You know the words)

Love
by The Supremes (sort of)
Baby, ooh, now see just heart
Come cause think, keep life said
Child arms got need, time
Wanna hurry away?  Leave?
Gone

Thank you for your applause.  All of those words were used more than ten times each across all songs.  A second tune using the less popular text in the list will someday be created and sold as the B-Side.  It will not be listened to at all.  Thinking I should still do it.  Right.  Right?

Sigh.  Nuff said.

Ringo Starr "Photograph"

*****Number One, November 25th, 1973*****


We're back, and what a way to return!  This week's number one hit is from a member of what many people would consider the number one band in the history of music.  What luck!  What a treat, why I...wait...what's that noise?

Oh, there's an elephant in the room, steadily tapping his foot on the ground.  Strange.

Anyway, today we get to look at a top song from nonother than Ringo Starr.  While I haven't listened to much of his solo stuff, I'm sure...it...is...hang on.

Now the elephant is jumping up and down, blowing his trunk and flapping his weird ears to and fro.  Quite a racket.  He's certainly making himself known!

Regardless, this tune reached the top of the chart for one week in the winter of 1973.  It was the lead single on his eponymous album, and was, um...

Oh cripes, the elephant is charging me.  Here it comes!!!

The, uh, the song is titled...

Crap, it's almost here!

Titled..."Photograph".

AHHH!!  OK!!! STOP!!  HERE, TAKE IT!  THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT, ISN'T IT???!!!?!?!?!

Stupid elephant

Sigh, yes, thank you, I know.

Def Leppard, one of the top-selling bands of my youth also happened to have a quite popular song with the same title.  And, due to the distinction of growing up in a house with an incredibly paltry music collection (one small drawer holding perhaps a dozen dusty tapes of artists long past their peak), my window of knowledge on the subject was severly lacking.  I'd barely heard the Beatles, and certainly nothing of the spinoff showcases.

So, when a friend of my sister passed on to me a record (yes, record) of the awesomely explodey-looking Pyromania by some band with a goofy name written in a dagger-like font, well, only then were the seeds of musical understanding planted.  And, of course, they were fertilized with Aqua Net and lyrics about the gudelines of adding sweetner to strippers.

You know, for kids!

Not to sound negative about these guys or their photographin'!  This album did, and still largely does, rock.  Def Leppard were a reasonably cromulent arena band, and certainly had enough chops to hammer out a respectable career.  I think they would have succeeded with our without the hair-metal explosion that soon came to pass.  No disrespect intended.

But, you know, the Beatles!  I mean, I should have at least once been told that Ringo had a number one hit of the same name.  Somebody along the way must've known.  A teacher, a neighbor, the Solid Gold dancers.  Seriously, who raised me?  Is this why I'm like this?

Yeah, probably.

Oh, and this.

Same

So, I have absolutely no connection to a song that actually gave its name to his greatest hits collection and is considered one of the very best of all the post-Beatles music.  Plus, the tune's name only brings about thoughts of Union Jack T-shirts and a truckload of whoa-oh's.  Great, I'm a dummy.

Well, the only thing I can think of doing is to compare the lyrics of this apparent classic to the firmly brain-engrained Def Leppard version in a no-holds barred grudge match to see which truly is the better song.  Right?  That seems fair.  To a dummy.

Which, as established, I am.

!!!PHOTGRAPHIC GRUDGE MATCH!!!

Ringo Starr versus Def Leppard

Opening Stanza

Starr                                                                                       

"Ev'ry time I see your face

It reminds me of the places we used to go

But all I got is a photograph

And I realise you're not coming back anymore"

Leppard
"I'm outta luck, outta love
Got a photograph, picture of
Passion killer, you're too much
You're the only one I wanna touch"

Ringo has the feels, and Def is feeling horny.  Seems about right.  Let's next pick out a coupling from each that seems to be the crux of the respective song and consider those one by one.

Starr
"Now you're expecting me to live without you, but that's not something I'm looking forward to."
Sad, poignent, heartfelt.

Leppard
"Look what you've done to this rock n' roll clown, look what you've done."
I've heard all I need.

The winner.  Don't look so surprised.

Thus, without hearing lick one from this chart topping hit, I'm pronouncing it better than the version I've heard eight million times.  Is that fair?  Sure, why not.  Nostalgia is for suckers and soccer moms anyway.  Change with the times!  Live and let die! 

And, uh, don't refer to yourself as a rock n' roll clown.  You'll never beat a Beatle that way.

Stupid elephant.

Year Two Preview

Now, where was I.

What?  I mean, when I left off.

Wait, how long has it been?

Almost nine months!

Wow.  Boy, if anything had happened in the world during this time, like, say, some awful, contagious pot roast had taken it upon its meaty self to sicken and/or murder thousands and thousands of people, that would have been terrible.  And, in that case, you would have been totally forgiven for forgetting about this blog.  But, luckily, that didn't happen.

Sniff.

I'm fine.  FINE!

Anywho, yeah, we're doing this again.

Number one songs don't just stop, ya know.  They keep coming and coming and coming!  And, someone needs to take them apart and see what makes them tick.  That person, apparently, is me.  No, I don't know why either.

However, unfortunately, we no longer have a partner in this escapade.  The Single File Podcast has gone the way of the Misfits of Science and Yugo dealerships, having been carried away to a farm upstate so that they can run free and enjoy their remaining days.  Remember, no good thing ever dies.  Especially quotes from decent but highly over-obsessed-about films.  Those go on forever, sadly.

So, since we've got no audio brother with top notch early 80's technology (RIP NOPR) to dictate the next hit on the jukebox, we've got to figure out another way to restart this train.  Fortunately, the machinations of automation are providing the answers again.  I present to you all; Random.org.

Yep, we'll be looking at the top songs of music history, selected entirely by chance.  I put a date range into the above website, beginning with the date of the very first chart topper of the Hot 100 era (August 4th, 1958) and ending with today.  Each post will be about whatever tune happens to be number one on the day that gets spat out by this series of ones and zeroes.

Welp, it's as good a way as any.

With all that said, welcome back.  And, let's press play!