I’m almost positive I’ve relayed this story at the site before, but since it fits so well with what we’re about to discuss, I’ll tell it again:
In early 1996, I was dating a girl — we’ll call her the Voluptuous Redhead — whose huge, um, tracts of land were dwarfed only by her solid religious convictions. Though I’ve been a fairly unrepentant heathen for most of my life, I was raised among religious people, and can play along when it’s called for (and in my early 20s, the heaving bosom of a young lady still constituted “called for”) — which is how I found myself, despite some rather profound misgivings, at a Jars of Clay/Michael W. Smith concert.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m relatively familiar with the pop/CCM crossover army of the ’80s and early ’90s, have spent my fair share of time listening to Smith and Amy Grant, and I actually enjoyed the first Jars of Clay album. I think Christianity — or at least its various rules and regulations — is pretty silly, but I admire the beliefs at its core, and although a lot of Christian music during that era was bogged down in hokey production, it can be pretty moving if it’s done right. All of which is to say that, in spite of my low expectations for the concert, I went in thinking it would at least be something I could sit through.
Casual observers of this series have probably wondered, more than once, why I’m bothering to track those rock-era singles that, like a dolphin rejected from Sea World, couldn’t quite jump through the brass ring. After all, who really cares about chart placements? And isn’t Number Two practically as good as Number One, particularly when everybody’s making so much money? But if there’s one decade that proves why this stuff is vitally important … to somebody, at least … it’s the ’90s.
To put it simply, the Billboard Hot 100 charts of that decade were messed up. (I put it somewhat less than simply in a long-winded column last year.) The pop radio format split in two, resulting in charts that rarely reflected anybody’s actual listening experience. Major labels stopped manufacturing singles for many artists (mostly white ones) in an effort to sell more albums, which resulted in huge radio hits that never qualified for the Hot 100. The advent of precise technology for measuring retail sales and radio airplay resulted in singles topping the charts and staying … and staying … and staying. And as I discussed last week, superstars like Michael Jackson, Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston and Boyz II Men were so desperate to top the charts, and keep up with the competition, that they conspired with their labels to withhold the retail releases of their new singles until the songs peaked at radio, then flooded the marketplace with discounted product to ensure #1 chart debuts.
As a result of these and other, more random developments, the #2 singles of the ’90s were a fascinating bunch. There were huge hits that were simply blocked by huger ones, and great songs that stalled behind ones whose popularity now leaves us scratching our heads. There were oldies that re-emerged after decades, and the two longest-running chart hits of all time (for the moment). So away we go – and, as always, at the end of the column I’ll list some additional singles that were stranded at third base so we can argue which ones most deserved to score.
11. (tie) “Right Here, Right Now,”Jesus Jones; “P.A.S.S.I.O.N.,” Rhythm Syndicate; “Every Heartbeat,” Amy Grant; “It Ain’t Over Til It’s Over,” Lenny Kravitz; and “Fading Like a Flower (Every Time You Leave),”Roxette. What do these wildly disparate singles have in common? They all were blocked from the top spot during the summer of ’91 by the same song, Bryan Adams’ treacly Robin Hood anthem “(Everything I Do) I Do It for You.” (It was the first of three Adams soundtrack singles – all of them god-awful, in my opinion – to top the charts during the ’90s.) Adams spent seven weeks at #1 while holding off five different competitors – the highest number of second-place finishers thwarted by the same single since Percy Faith’s “Theme from A Summer Place” was #1 in 1960. The only one of the five to earn a second week at #2 was – surprise – “P.A.S.S.I.O.N.” In honor of that fact – and because its video is the only one of the five to feature fire (fire! fire!), scantily clad dancers and an atrocious white-boy rap — I’m happy to showcase it here. (more…)
If you’ve ever ventured into that thicket of sweetness and stress known as Planning A Wedding, you’ve probably at least considered buying one (or five) of those awful compilations of “wedding music.” They come in all sorts of flavors – classical, country, Contemporary Christian, pop standards, classic R&B – and they’ve got icky titles like A Day to Remember, or Songs That Say “I Love You.” They tend to feature a lot of the same songs, like “Always and Forever,” and “Three Times a Lady,” and “Wonderful Tonight,” and Pachelbel’s Canon, and “The Way You Look Tonight,” and that horrible Boyz II Men song “On Bended Knee.” And, just like the Book of Common Prayer, they’re all diabolically designed to make your nuptials sound just like everybody else’s.
My wife Gwen and I wed 15 years ago today, and to celebrate that occasion – along with the onset of the June wedding season – I thought I’d give Popdose’s loyal readers an anniversary present: a mixtape of wedding songs and stories from some of our columnists, and an opportunity to share your own remembrances and ideas in the comments. These songs aren’t your garden-variety bridal standards; in fact, a few of them are downright bizarre. But even if you don’t find them suitable for your own purposes the next time you get hitched, hopefully they’ll inspire you and your betrothed to follow your own muse, and not some music conglomerate’s. Click here for a compressed file of all the tracks featured here, and read on! (more…)
If you’re a guitar guy, then all I have to do is write the name “Phil Keaggy” and you’re probably already prepared to offer up praise for his abilities. The man’s prowess with the guitar is legendary, so much so that he can’t turn around without someone bringing up the longstanding urban legend that no less an authority than Jimi Hendrix once declared him to be the best guitarist of all time. It’s been pretty well decided that such words never came forth from Hendrix’s lips…or, at least, Keaggy’s pretty sure of it, anyway…but God knows that plenty of other axe men have offered compliments along those lines.
The reference to the almighty is an intentional one. Although Keaggy started in the more traditional rock world as a member of the band Glass Harp, he’s been a staple of the Contemporary Christian music industry since the early 1970s. But, c’mon, don’t freak out, okay? I’ve always been mystified about how music fans can be totally psyched to hear about an album, only to dismiss it because there were lyrical references to religious beliefs. It’s music, people. No-one’s saying you have to embrace the lyrical content as the truth…but you can certainly enjoy the tunes.
My buddy Chris Commander is the person who was responsible for introducing me to the music of Phil Keaggy. This was in the early ’90s, when the members of my circle of friends were…you’ll forgive the expression…worshiping at the altar of Jellyfish and Crowded House. Chris said, “Dude, you’ve got to check out the album,” and he handed me a copy of Phil Keaggy and Sunday’s Child. I’m sure he mentioned that Keaggy was a Christian recording artist, but that’s not the sort of thing that would’ve turned me off, anyway, and, besides, I knew Chris’s tastes and he knew mine, so if he thought I’d like it, he didn’t have to tell me twice. And, of course, he was absolutely on the money. From the Beatles homage on the cover art to the plethora of pop hooks, this was very much my kind of album.
This week we have a ginormous, gigantic, gargantuan post, as we finish up with the letter G on our trek through the bottom of Billboard’s Hot 100 charts during the ’80s.
Michael Gore
“Theme From ‘Terms of Endearment’” — 1984, #84 (download)
You know, it feels like every week here at Bottom Feeders starts with something completely bland or just plain douche-a-rific now. I guess if you’re listening to everything from top to bottom you can consider this your intro song. Or if you’re putting together a nice light-rock CD for grandma, you can make this your centerpiece. That’s it — grandma music.
If I didn’t collect ‘80s music I most certainly would have missed out on these gems and thought that “King of Wishful Thinking” (1990) was Go West’s first single and Indian Summer (1992) their first album. If you ever wanted to get into Go West for some reason, that album could easily be the place to start and stop. However, you’d be doing yourself a disservice by not going back and listening to their 1985 self-titled debut. The follow-up, 1987’s Dancing on the Couch, wasn’t quite as good as Go West, but it still contains some catchy-as-hell pop tunes. All three of the great songs featured here are from Go West, and though they sound dated today, if you think back to 1985 they actually sound a little too sophisticated for that era. Maybe that’s why none of them made an impact on the charts. Go West had one single in ‘87 barely crack the Top 40 — “Don’t Look Down (The Sequel)” hit #39, but it isn’t even included on the British version of Dancing on the Couch.
Scott: Could Gilmour sound more bored? No wonder he called Floyd quits. Although Momentary Lapse of Reason had its moments, neither of the post-Waters Floyd albums hold a candle to Gilmour’s second solo record, About Face. In fact, you can hear echoes of that ‘84 album in the Gilmour-led Floyd records. And the live performances were so bloated. How many people did they have onstage?
Jon: Zzzzzzzzz … oh, sorry, I fell asleep as soon as I saw that number “7:32″ on the volume bar. Could somebody give me a rag? I need to wipe this drool off my chin.
Isn’t this song the reason punk was invented … 20 years earlier? Couldn’t Gilmour have caught a clue by 1994? I actually was never a big Floyd fan, but after Waters left I tuned them out completely — except for “Learning to Fly,” which at least has a discernible melody and something of a hook. Please don’t make me listen to this again.
David: I own The Division Bell, but I do not remember a single lick of the album, except for “I never thought you’d lose that light in your eyes.” That’s one of the Nick Laird-Clowes songs, yes?
After suffering many years with major ailments, Larry Norman died on Sunday. As a member of People in the late ’60s, he introduced the world to the concept of Christian rock under the guise of the band’s psych and prog rock. On his seminal solo release, Only Visiting This Planet (1972), he presented a song whose title became his career-long motto: “Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music?”
Norman started the Solid Rock Record Company as an old-fashioned collective: a record label, a management company, a production service, and in many ways a ministry. He helped put out albums by artists such as Randy Stonehill and the band Daniel Amos, but not without some controversy — like so many of his contemporaries, Norman was at odds with both the church and the secular music world.
The mainstream market often rejected Solid Rock’s artists for being too biblical, causing their albums to be sold mainly in the burgeoning Christian bookstore market. However, because a lot of the music was evangelical in nature, the same artists were assailed for “preaching to the converted,” and worse, because the music was rooted in rock and blues, many churches rejected all of it outright as being “satanically deceptive, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Casual observers of 
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If I didn’t collect ‘80s music I most certainly would have missed out on these gems and thought that “King of Wishful Thinking” (1990) was Go West’s first single and Indian Summer (1992) their first album. If you ever wanted to get into Go West for some reason, that album could easily be the place to start and stop. However, you’d be doing yourself a disservice by not going back and listening to their 1985 self-titled debut. The follow-up, 1987’s Dancing on the Couch, wasn’t quite as good as Go West, but it still contains some catchy-as-hell pop tunes. All three of the great songs featured here are from Go West, and though they sound dated today, if you think back to 1985 they actually sound a little too sophisticated for that era. Maybe that’s why none of them made an impact on the charts. Go West had one single in ‘87 barely crack the Top 40 — “Don’t Look Down (The Sequel)” hit #39, but it isn’t even included on the British version of Dancing on the Couch.
After suffering many years with major ailments, Larry Norman died on Sunday. As a member of People in the late ’60s, he introduced the world to the concept of Christian rock under the guise of the band’s psych and prog rock. On his seminal solo release, Only Visiting This Planet (1972), he presented a song whose title became his career-long motto: “Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music?”