And so, like Boyz II Men, we have reached the end of the Cutouts Gone Wild! road. This series started out innocently, with a few ridiculous paragraphs about St. Paul’s Down to the Wire album, and spun quickly out of control; now, all these years later, I’m not really sure how things got this far. Or how many hours I’ve spent listening to and writing about records nobody remembers.

Anyway, thanks to our sparkly ‘n’ shiny digital revolution, fewer and fewer albums are staying out of print these days, so the time has come to stop scraping the bottom of the commercial barrel and yield this space to a better, brighter series — one that I’m certain will quickly make all of you forget about silly old Cutouts Gone Wild!

But first, one final order of business: The collected output of late ’80s Swedish pop band/apparent Bob Fosse fetishists All That Jazz.

Never heard of them? Me neither. Or I hadn’t, anyway, before a reader named Paul Cox wrote in to request a CGW! entry devoted to the band. I normally don’t bother with requests, for the simple reason that keeping up with them can overwhelm a series, but Paul’s e-mail intrigued me — who were these guys?

Naturally, I turned to the Internet, only to discover that A) “all that jazz” isn’t the most helpful of search phrases, and B) there appears to be only one web page containing any information at all about the band. I sent an e-mail, crossed my fingers, and waited. (more…)

Jimmy Harnen - Can’t Fight the Midnight (1989)
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That’s right, cutout lovers! It’s Jimmy Harnen!

Why do you all have that look on your faces? What, you don’t remember Jimmy Harnen, lead singer of the late ’80s Wilkes-Barre sensation Synch?

Okay, fair enough. But here’s the thing, you guys: You totally do remember Jimmy. If you’ve shopped for frozen foods or had your teeth cleaned at any point in the last 19 years, you’ve heard his big fat adult contemporary hit, “Where Are You Now.” You probably thought it was Air Supply or Deon Estus singing it, but no. Jimmy Harnen had you fooled.

He had a lot of people fooled, actually — unfortunately, most of them were the ones buying his album, Can’t Fight the Midnight, based on the simpering stylings of his hit single. You wouldn’t think it, listening to “Where Are You Now” — I didn’t believe it until I heard it for myself — but Harnen was no AC crooner. No, he was a good old-fashioned mullet rocker.

The reason for the discrepancy, as was the case strangely often in the ’80s, was that Harnen had recorded “Where Are You Now” years previous, as the drummer for Synch, a Pennsylvania band that pulled a Hooters and turned local success into a contract with Columbia. Harnen wasn’t Synch’s singer — in fact, the single was the only track he took the lead on — but Columbia execs knew an MOR hit when they heard one.

Except it wasn’t a hit — not at first, anyway. Synch lost its record deal and broke up; following the split, according to Harnen’s Wikipedia entry, “Jimmy finally got his hair cut.” (more…)

Rick Astley - Hold Me in Your Arms (1988)
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Well, do you remember Rick Astley?
He had a big, fat hit — it was ghastly
He said “I’m never gonna give you up or let you down”
Well, I’m here to tell you that Dick’s a clown — Nick Lowe, “All Men Are Liars”

My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me? — Jesus H. Christ, Matthew 27:46

And so, at last, Cutouts Gone Wild! has come to this. Those of you who have been wondering why this series is nearing its conclusion need only look at Rick Astley’s stupid head on the cover of his stupid second album for your answer — we’re reaching the absolute fucking dregs here, people. And you know what the worst part is? At some point between when I put Hold Me in Your Arms in the CGW! on-deck circle and today, those dicks at Sony BMG went and put this album back in digital print. The physical CD is still only available used, but if you want to download mp3s of this entire wretched album, it’ll only cost you $9.90 at the Amazon mp3 store. But guess what? I don’t care. I listened to this shit in preparation for this column, but I’ll be damned if I had to go through that for nothing. You fuckers are getting a Rick Astley column today, and that’s final.

Speaking of fuckers, hey look, it’s Richard Astley. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m unusually grumpy today, but of all the crap I’ve listened to during the four years this series has been going on, I think I might hate Hold Me in Your Arms most of all. Again, I’m not entirely certain why this should be; after all, it isn’t like Astley can’t sing, or anything about his music was particularly offensive. Objectively speaking, we’ve certainly covered worse here. And yet listening to this record makes me want to hit things — preferably things shaped like Rick Astley.

You want specifics. I can tell. You aren’t going to get them here. I’ve listened to this album twice already today, and that’s enough. Everything here sounds like the same horrible song, and listening to it makes me feel like it’s the summer after eighth grade and I’m trapped inside Wet Seal in the worst mall in Hell. (more…)

The Grays - Ro Sham Bo (1994)
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You’ve known this was coming since last week, when I promised an album from the great lost power-pop group of the ’90s. (Well, most of you did, anyway. I’m not sure what the person who guessed “Damn Yankees” was thinking.)

If you’ve never heard of the Grays, well, you’re in pretty much the same boat as everyone else; despite a stellar pedigree, a generous helping of Epic-assisted buzz, and no shortage of fawning from critics and pop nerds all over the planet, Ro Sham Bo was a commercial nonstarter.

There were good reasons for this. First, and probably most importantly, the guys who made up the Grays — Jason Falkner, Jon Brion, Buddy Judge, and Dan McCarroll — were, and had always been, out of step with commercial trends. Falkner was a member of the Three O’Clock and Jellyfish, and Brion had done time with ‘Til Tuesday (not to mention session work for — surprise! — Jellyfish), which should tell you everything you need to know about their luck as recording artists.

There was also the problem of being in a band in the first place — specifically, that all four members professed to hate it. Falkner, for one, had vowed never to join another band after leaving Jellyfish. Still, the quartet went into Ro Sham Bo with the best of intentions, seeking to avoid any ego-dug pitfalls by dividing songwriting and performing duties more or less evenly. Epic, meanwhile, was doubtless hoping that the sales sum of the band would be more than its parts.

Snake eyes on both rolls, obviously. (more…)

Nu Shooz - Told U So (1988)
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Yes, yes, I know. Some of you were hoping for Boy Meets Girl — but as far as I can tell, all of their albums are still in print, whereas Nu Shooz’s Told U So had the good sense to fade into cutout bins many years ago. We will now repay this courtesy by making fun of the band and its music.

Actually, in all fairness, I feel like I can’t start this entry without pointing out that Nu Shooz were nowhere near as awful as they should have been. A Caucasian husband-and-wife duo — from Oregon, no less — doing a sort of suburban pop/freestyle hybrid? And with the worst band name of the entire decade, to boot? It should have been a Shaggs-esque train wreck, but it wasn’t. They sound unbelievably dated now, but Nu Shooz’s hits were (and remain) undeniably catchy. Go on and sing along — you know you want to:

Hey, is that Timbuk 3’s dog in there?

For a minute, Valerie Day and John Smith were bona fide pop stars — they were even nominated for a Best New Artist Grammy in 1987. (Other nominees: Glass Tiger, Simply Red, Bruce Hornsby & the Range, and, yes, Timbuk 3.) (more…)

Judson Spence - Judson Spence (1988)
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Ladies and gentlemen, meet Robbie Nevil’s undescended testicle.

Never heard of Judson Spence? Congratulations — you’ve been spared (until now) the horror of listening to the album I’m convinced was responsible for inspiring Joey Lawrence and Jeremy Jordan to pursue their own recording careers. Judson Spence is a bad, bad man.

Which is ironic, because he spends the bulk of his debut trying to convince you that he’s got nothing but good, clean fun on his mind. Our esteemed David Medsker summed up an earlier Cutouts Gone Wild! by saying “So inoffensive, so safe. ‘Come on, guys, let’s just dance!’” This describes Judson Spence perfectly. Let’s take a look at the opening lines of the second track, “If You Don’t Like It” (download):

I don’t need no fancy dealer
Telling me just how good it feels
I don’t want no false seduction
And trade my soul to get my thrills

I don’t have to drink when I’m dancing
I like to control my moves
I don’t need no headache in the morning
I just want a solid groove

Judson Spence: The only pop star of the ’80s to make Jermaine Stewart look like Sly Stone. (more…)

Gardner Cole - Δ’s (1988)
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Do you have irrationally fond memories of the year 1988?

Do you often find yourself sitting around where all the “good times” of the late ’80s went, or leafing through your 1987-88 and 1988-89 yearbooks, or boring your friends to tears with constant stories that begin with “do you remember…”?

Do you smile wistfully when remembering the election of George H.W. Bush?

I have just the album for you.

Imagine, if you will, that a group of scientists, sitting in a lab on December 31, 1988, were somehow able to bottle the essence of the preceding 364 days and press it onto a CD. Do you want to know what it would sound like? I hear you screaming “no,” but I’m going to tell you anyway: It would sound like Gardner Cole’s debut album, Δ’s.

How about that album title, folks? Is that the most late ’80s thing you’ve ever laid eyes on, or what? Also, isn’t Gardner Cole kind of a tool for naming his debut after a shape? Don’t you hate him already? Well, wait until you watch this: (more…)

Julian Lennon - The Secret Value of Daydreaming (1986)
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“The son of John Lennon and his first wife Cynthia, Julian Lennon parlayed a remarkable vocal similarity to his father into a moderately successful singing career during the 1980s.”

So begins Julian Lennon’s All Music Guide bio. It isn’t the most flattering of introductory sentences, but it’s fairly accurate, anyway. While making perfectly clear that I have absolutely nothing against Julian — and have enjoyed his music from time to time — it’s hard not to look at his career as a poignant lesson for anyone dumb enough to think about following in a well-known parent’s footsteps.

Julian’s dad was more well-known than most, of course; he was one half of the most beloved songwriting team in the history of rock & roll, murdered in cold blood during the prime of his life. Given all that — not to mention the fact that John hadn’t even been dead five years when Julian’s first record came out — there was literally no way Julian could win. He could have been twice the songwriter his dad was and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Of course, Julian Lennon is not twice the songwriter his dad was; on a good day, he might fill 60 percent of that glass, and most of the time, he didn’t get anywhere near that level. But having said all that, this album’s overall crappiness is not entirely Julian’s fault. (more…)

Big Noise - Bang! (1989)
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If you’re a music fan with the good fortune to have been born before the late ’80s, chances are you remember the thrill of spending a leisurely afternoon (or many afternoons) wandering the aisles of your favorite record store, thumbing through stacks of LPs/cassettes/CDs, just sort of…looking without hoping to find anything in particular. You can still do this today, of course, but only if you’re lucky enough to actually have a record store in your neighborhood — and on nothing like the scale of the “good old days.”

The reasons for this are too numerous to delve into in a silly little Cutouts Gone Wild! post, but for the sake of our time together today, let’s chalk it up to two things — the rise of big box retailers whose treatment of new music as a loss-leader product choked the life out of indie retailers, and the steep 21st century decline in major-label revenues. There’s still plenty of music out there — more than ever, in fact — but you’ve got to go online to find it, and as wonderful as it is to sample new albums before you buy them, nothing quite compares to that aisle-wandering experience. Be sad you missed it, kids — we might not be getting it back.

The point of all this rambling? Once upon a time, the major labels released a lot of music. I mean, really — lots. So much music, in fact, that it was a mathematical certainty that a not-inconsiderable percentage of this music would be utterly ridiculous. Case in point: Big Noise and their 1989 debut, Bang! (more…)

Katrina & the Waves - Waves (1986)
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Last week, we looked at poor Gregory Abbott’s second album, and the way R&B stardom can evaporate in the blink of an eye. This week’s subjects prove that pop listeners are no less fickle, and that you can go from walking on sunshine to collecting dust in a cutout bin in the length of time it takes to write and record a poorly conceived follow-up album. Like, say, this one.

For an ’80s one-hit wonder, Katrina & the Waves have a pretty interesting history. They took awhile getting around to adding “Katrina,” either to their lineup or their name, starting life as a mid-’70s Cambridge outfit known simply as the Waves. We probably wouldn’t talking about the band, in any of its incarnations, if not for its guitarist, the minor pop deity known as Kimberley Rew. He’s probably best known for his brief stint with the Soft Boys, but Rew’s C.V. is impressive no matter which way you look at it — he claims arguably the Bangles’ best song, “Going Down to Liverpool,” as just one of his many songwriting credits.

Anyway, Rew left the Waves to join the Soft Boys, but when they broke up, he got in touch with former Wave Alex Cooper, who had become the drummer for a band called Mama’s Cookin’ — a band fronted by one Katrina Leskanich. Rew ended up joining Mama’s Cookin’, which ended up changing its name to…hey, what do you know! The Waves!

In the new Waves’ early days, Rew acted as the primary songwriter and vocalist; Katrina mainly handled the band’s cover tunes during live performances. Gradually, however, Rew started writing songs for Katrina to sing, and before long, the Waves became Katrina & the Waves.

(If you think the band’s history is complicated now, just wait.) (more…)