I’m a list man. I love making them, I love talking about them, I love everything about them. And if I accept a challenge to make a list I will painstakingly carve it out and be able to defend to the death why I chose what I did.
About three weeks ago I was challenged to make a list of the Top Ten ‘80s hits that I wish I would never hear again. Overall, finding these songs is not a terribly difficult thing for me as I would prefer not to listen to the Top 40 for the most part and instead focus more on these Bottom Feeders or the more obscure tracks anyway. But the part that took me three weeks to finalize is simply cutting it to just ten songs. If the criteria would have been 50 songs it would have been a piece of cake but just ten is ridiculous. But, I’ve done it and I told my buddy who proposed the challenge that I would post the ten songs as one of my intros to the segment. And while I’m not going to go into the full explanation of why I chose them here (that would just take way too long) I will tell you that my only criteria was that they were a Top 40 hit. To choose something that hit #98 would be too easy and clearly not the point of this exercise.
So here I present you with the ten top 40 hits from the ’80s that I could live without ever hearing again — in no particular order:
Beach Boys, “Kokomo”
Bobby McFerrin, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”
Bangles, “Walk Like an Egyptian”
Katrina and the Waves, “Walking on Sunshine”
Corey Hart, “Sunglasses at Night”
Corey Hart, “Boy in the Box”
Rolling Stones, “Emotional Rescue”
New Kids on the Block, “Cover Girl”
Steve Miller Band, “Abracadabra”
Michael Bolton, “That’s What Love is All About”
It’s week 27 of Bottom Feeders and you know what that means.
What? You don’t know what that means? Actually, neither do I. But what I do know is that we have only eight songs left to get through by artists whose names begin with the letter D, so I’m giving you a quickie this week and jumping right into it. Enjoy more songs from the ass end of the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the ’80s.
George Duke has his jazz side and he has the funky side you hear on “Shine On.” Duke has an eclectic resumé: he’s worked with Jean-Luc Ponty, Frank Zappa, and George Clinton, and he did a few albums with jazz guitarist Stanley Clarke among countless other keyboard sessions with various artists.
Duke Jupiter
“I’ll Drink to You” — 1982, #58 (download)
“Little Lady” — 1984, #68 (download)
Why do I feel it’s been a while since we’ve had a really decent rock song in this series? Both of these could fit the bill since Duke Jupiter has a classic ZZ Top feel that’s helped along by “Little Lady,” which is about a girl and a car. The video didn’t hurt that notion one bit either. (It seemed to teach you how to handle tricky curves while drunk.) “Little Lady” is from Duke Jupiter’s album White Knuckle Ride, which has the distinction of being the first release on Morocco Records, the short-lived rock imprint of Motown.
I’ve heard on multiple occasions how Robbie Dupree’s style was a complete rip-off of the Michael McDonald-era Doobie Brothers. There are definite similarities, but Dupree handles himself well enough that he’s really a compliment to the Doobies’ sound. His first two records yielded three Hot 100 hits, but he didn’t make another album until 1989. The most startling piece of trivia about Robbie Dupree is that the WWF tag team Strike Force used his song “Girls in Cars” as their entrance music. Robbie Dupree isn’t the first person who’d come to mind if I wanted to commission a good song for wrestlers entering the ring.
One of the things I just love doing that doesn’t happen much anymore is laying on the couch, in the dark, listening to an album. As I get older, I’m going to bed earlier, which limits how much time I have to listen to albums at night. However, my wife and I just had our first child, so I might be able to get back to it again.
I can hear all of you with children saying “WTF, Steed? You think you’ll be able to do anything ever again with a child in the house?” Well, yes, I do. I’m in a two-level condo with the master bedroom on the second floor and the baby’s room on the first. So on nights where it’s my turn to stay up with the baby, this may be a good chance to pop on an album since my wife will be upstairs with the door shut. I very well could be dreaming here and just haven’t had enough experience yet with this whole fatherhood thing to understand that this just isn’t going to happen, but I hold out hope at least.
Well anyway, the point of this was the music. There’s just something about turning the lights off, shutting your eyes and listening to the right piece of music. One of my favorites is the 1996 self-titled release from Deadsy. It’s a rock album that moves at a snail’s pace, with down-tuned guitars and z-tars that create a creepy mood.
Mostly though I listen to more conventional things, like Sting’s The Soul Cages, Huey Lewis and The News’ Fore! or The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway from Genesis. They all just kind of take me to a nice comfortable place where nothing but the music exits. Most people just pull out the bong to get to a similar place, but I go to Peter Gabriel instead. (Why do I feel like I’ve just done a “music is my anti-drug” commercial?) I need to find that point again and get to it every now and then. Now, only if my boy will give daddy 45 minutes to do so.
It’s a doozy of week here, as there are more rare tracks in this one than in any other post so far. So without further ado, I give you more from the letter D as we continue to trudge through the muck at the bottom of the Billboard Hot 100 chart during the ’80s.
The other day someone asked me what the “most valuable” record in my collection is. It’s a question I’ve always had a hard time answering, because I have no idea if anything in my collection is worth money. I mean, I know which of my albums and 45s are rare, and certainly I know some pieces are worth some kind of money, but for me any sort of “value” comes from just having that particular hole filled in my collection. I’m not the first collector to say this and I certainly won’t be the last, but there is no part of my collection that I’ve been working on in order to turn a profit. Granted, if I ever get that elusive Shamus M’Cool 45 my collection will jump tremendously in value, but for now it contains just what I think is cool. And in case you’re wondering how I define “cool” …
I own 19 different versions of “Talkin’ Baseball” by Terry Cashman, and Baseball America values them at up to $50 apiece. Of course, that’s Baseball America talking. I own “Dance Baby,” the 1983 single from Alfonso Ribeiro, aka Carlton on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I own Alyssa Milano’s first album (1989’s Look in My Heart), and having Frank Stallone’s self-titled disc brings me much joy. I get endless conversations out of the men-hugging-each-other cover of Ambrosia’s One Eighty, and Scott Baio’s 1982 debut gives me nightmares.
These are the pieces of my collection that are valuable to me. One day I’m going to sell it off, and then I’ll really see what it’s worth to own way too much Peabo Bryson music, but until then I’ll keep lovin’ the Stryper picture disc simply because it’s mine. So the next time someone asks me what’s the “most valuable” piece of my collection, I guess I should answer, “All of it” (which of course is the lamest answer I could possibly give).
NEW MUSIC FOR THE COLLECTION:
DFX2, Emotion
Fiona, Fiona
Hanoi Rocks, Two Steps From the Move
Full Force, Full Force
The J. Geils Band, You’re Getting’ Even, While I’m Gettin’ Odd
A few weeks ago I laughed at someone’s musical taste. I feel kind of bad about it. See, a buddy of mine asked me if I had heard the new Staind CD yet, with the qualification that “You might like it. They’ve really grown up as a band.” I totally busted out laughing at that notion. Like, right in his face, full-blown laughter. At the time all that was crossing my mind was “He knows what I listen to — why would he think I’d like this?” and “They’ve ‘grown up’?” But when I really thought about it, who am I to judge what people enjoy? (Except when it comes to Nickelback. There is really no excuse for that.) At least half of the songs you’re about to see below are total shit, yet if my iPod shuffles to any of them, I’ll listen straight through. I’ll listen to a Cover Girls song, followed by Mike Patton making ungodly noises in Fantomas. My taste in music is just as shitty if not shittier than most people’s.
I know it, too — it’s not like I think all the songs in this series should’ve been Grammy winners. So of course now I feel bad thinking about all the crap I listen to and laughing at someone for digging what they enjoy. I did actually go to iTunes and listen to the 30-second samples of Staind’s new songs just so I could see if they’d really “grown up.” Sure enough, they now sound like Air Supply. Something tells me this isn’t what my friend was trying to express, though. So I still feel I can say he’s wrong in his assessment, but if he wants to listen to Staind, so be it.
In an effort to drive my point home that I was a total bag-o-douche in this situation, let’s take a look at what’s crossed my iPod in the last 20 minutes while I wrote this intro. (Yes, 20 minutes for this little bit. I get distracted!)
Motley Crue, “Hooligan’s Holiday”
Paul Lekakis, “Boom Boom (Let’s Go Back to My Room)”
Alan Parsons Project, “Days Are Numbers”
Stars On, “More Stars (ABBA Medley)”
Manowar, “Brothers of Metal”
Last week’s E.G. Daily track reminded me of bar trivia with my buddies, so I thought I’d expand that into an intro. For a good three years, Wednesday was the day to show off my geek-tastic knowledge of ‘80s music. From ’03 to ’06, my buddies and I went to Steppy’s Bar & Grill in East Norriton, Pa., a bar with a bowling alley attached to it; we went for “Sports & Music Trivia With DJ George.” From nine until about one in the morning every Wednesday night, we’d drink and answer sports questions. There were four quarters, each consisting of six questions. George would read a question, then play a Billboard Hot 100 song from any decade, and you had to answer the question before the song ended as well as give the name of the artist and the year it charted.
Things started off easy. The questions were semi-softballs and the music was like Guns n’ Roses or the Beatles. But as the game moved along, everything grew more difficult. Everyone in my group was in their 20s or 30s, so we had a rough time with the music from the ‘60s, but we made up for it with my knowledge of the ‘80s. There would be two ‘80s songs in the final quarter — a really hard one, and the final song of the night, which would be the “impossible” song George chose specifically to try to stump me each week.
The final question of the night was always ridiculous — the “name every …” question, e.g. “Name every Philadelphia 76ers head coach in order from oldest to most recent.” And the song was something that no one ever got but me. George loved playing those late-‘80s freestyle tunes or one of those Cugini-type songs; Pajama Party and Nocera tracks were also big on his list. Every now and then he would stump me, and of course that would piss me off. But most of the time I was the only person in the bar to know the final song. If that makes me an ‘80s nerd, so be it — but quite a few times it got us some decent prizes, and in some small way it probably led me to writing Bottom Feeders.
I’m writing this week’s post on a Sunday afternoon. Why is that significant? Because it’s the absolute best day of the week for ‘80s music. My wife and I end up finding our way to the car around noon every Sunday to flip on her XM and listen to reruns of Casey Kasem’s American Top 40. While it’s nice to hear the countdown in its original form, we both listen specifically for the long-distance dedication.
Quite frankly, it’s the finest moment of ‘80s radio, and the one thing in the car you’re not allowed to interrupt. Whether real or fake, the dedications are the pinnacle of cheesiness, and that’s what makes them wonderful. Every Sunday I listen to Casey read the week’s dedication in his finest heartbreaking radio voice, and I can’t help but think to myself how great a long-distance dedication writer I would have been. So I think it’s about time I lived out my dream. Let’s see …
“Today’s long-distance dedication comes to us from a shy 21-year-old girl in the tiny town of Pahrump, Nevada. She writes, ‘Casey, I have a problem. I’m in love with a guy that I can’t be with. We met three years ago when I was a senior in high school and our school hired him to be our janitor. Mike is his name and mopping is his game. He could remove gum from the floor like nobody’s business.
“One night after drama class, he was cleaning the stalls in the ladies’ bathroom and we started talking. It turns out he had dreams of one day owning a McDonald’s, just like me. He was short, kind of ugly, and smelled of bleach, but I slowly fell in love with the guy wearing the rubber gloves anyway. Everything was going great until January of this year, when Mike accidentally ran over a family of ducks with his tractor. He was given three years in prison for his crime.
“I visit him every week despite protests from my family and friends. Even though he told me before he left that fateful morning that he really hated ducks, I know he didn’t mean to hit more than one of them. I just want to let Mike know that I love him and that I will wait for him to be released. Would you please play Rick Dees’ ‘Disco Duck’ for the love of my life and let him know that I miss him every day? Sincerely, Tabitha.”
What do you think? That would have made it on the air, right?
It’s amazing sometimes to see how music brings the world together.
I was food shopping with my wife last week and “867-5309/Jenny” by Tommy Tutone was playing in the store. Even though I’m not a big fan of most of the larger hits of the ’80s, it was the only song that caught my ear the entire time I was there. After the song ended, I found myself whistling it through the next few aisles. About five minutes later, this goth-looking dude with a ton of tattoos passed me and was singing the chorus. Not long after that I passed a couple that had to be in their 70s, and the old man was repeating the famous phone number to his wife. So, at least five minutes after “867-5309″ was over, there was me, a goth kid, and an old man all still being entertained by it. Somewhere the guys from Tommy Tutone are smiling.
NEW SOUNDS FOR THE COLLECTION:
Riot, Restless Breed
Accept, Metal Heart
Europe, Wings of Tomorrow
Johnny Gill, Johnny Gill
Axe, Offering
This week we look at the final nine artists whose names begin with the letter C as we give you 15 more Bottom Feeders from the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the ’80s.
I turned on the radio the other day for the first time in months and the first thing I heard was “more music, less talk,” so that’s what we’re going with this week. Well, okay, it’s the same amount of music but less talk. But you get my point.
NEW SOUNDS FOR THE COLLECTION:
Garland Jeffreys, Escape Artist
Krokus, Change of Address
Aleese Simmons, I Want It
Art in America, Art in America
We stroll on with our next-to-last week of artists whose names begin with the letter C, looking at songs that missed the first 40 slots on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the ‘80s.
Rita Coolidge
“Fool That I Am” — 1980, #46 (download)
Many times it’s just so much more interesting to talk about everything but the music. What can I say about a boring track from some movie I’ve never heard of called Coast to Coast? Coolidge’s personal life is the story here — she dated Stephen Stills and then Graham Nash right after him, leading to the initial breakup of CSNY. But my favorite tidbit about Coolidge is that she starred in some television specials called The Christmas Raccoons and The Raccoons on Ice in the early ‘80s, which apparently led to the Canadian TV series The Raccoons. Here’s a clip from Raccoons on Ice, narrated by Rich Little and also starring … Leo Sayer!
You know, there are times when even I’ve had enough of ’80s music. It’s hard to believe that since I’m still acquiring “new” music all the time, but sometimes I need something more.
One of those times occurred this past Saturday as I was sitting at a poker table in Atlantic City, New Jersey. My iPod contains every Hot 100 hit from the ’80s plus many more ’80s tunes, some random great albums from the past two decades, and a ton of metal. I rarely ever choose a single artist or a full album and listen to the whole thing since I love the randomness of the shuffle option. There’s just something about hearing a 17-minute track from doom metal masters Electric Wizard followed by a Flock of Seagulls tune that does it for me. But as I was sitting at the table, I actually started to see a trend — when Tiffany came on, I was playing passively and poorly, but when it shuffled to Slayer I was nice and aggressive and winning hands. So, there came a point when I got tired of losing money and just chose to listen to Exodus albums for the rest of the night. I never thought there would be a point where the ’80s just didn’t work for me, but I guess I’ve found it.
NEW SOUNDS FOR THE COLLECTION:
Isaac Hayes, Lifetime Thing
Captain Sky, Concerned Party No. 1
Tease, Remember
The Flirts, Made in America
Gayle Adams, Gayle Adams
Kano, Kano
Back to a full post this week as I invade your speakers with more Billboard Hot 100 Bottom Feeders from artists whose names start with the letter C.
Popdose represents the coming together of a veritable who's who of music bloggers and an ever-expanding roster of writers who've made it their mission to experience the best and worst in pop culture — from music to movies, TV, and books, with a dash of current events thrown in for good measure — so you don't have to. Popdose delivers coverage both in-depth (the all-encompassing Popdose Guides) and snarkily brief (the weekly Captain Video!), surveying releases both old and new. Visit often: the site publishes a minimum of twice a day.
I’ve heard on multiple occasions how Robbie Dupree’s style was 
Mostly though I listen to more conventional things, like Sting’s The Soul Cages, Huey Lewis and The News’ Fore! or The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway from Genesis. They all just kind of take me to a nice comfortable place where nothing but the music exits. Most people just pull out the bong to get to a similar place, but I go to Peter Gabriel instead. (Why do I feel like I’ve just done a “music is my anti-drug” commercial?) I need to find that point again and get to it every now and then. Now, only if my boy will give daddy 45 minutes to do so.
I own 19 different versions of “Talkin’ Baseball” by Terry Cashman, and Baseball America values them at up to $50 apiece. Of course, that’s Baseball America talking. I own “Dance Baby,” the 1983 single from Alfonso Ribeiro, aka Carlton on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I own Alyssa Milano’s first album (1989’s Look in My Heart), and having 
Popdose represents the coming together of a veritable who's who of music bloggers and an ever-expanding roster of writers who've made it their mission to experience the best and worst in pop culture — from music to movies, TV, and books, with a dash of current events thrown in for good measure — so you don't have to. Popdose delivers coverage both in-depth (the all-encompassing 
