When I was a kid, my heroes were, at the very least, deserving of adoration. The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Cheap Trick, Dan Pastorini (the one non-musician of the bunch) — the one thing they had in common was that they were immensely talented at what they did. Some would say that they were among the very best, and thus, they seemed bigger than life to me and the millions who adored them. I was inspired by them and what I perceived to be their dedication to the craft. I also admired their shrewd understanding that a fair bit of marketing went a long way, too.
Of course, the music world is not just full of legendary artists such as those named above. For as long as there have been artistes, there have been those whose marketing overshadowed their artistic endeavors. I’m thinking along the lines of C.W. McCall, Taco, and — oh, what the heck — Sigue Sigue Sputnik.
Such one-hit wonders would invariably come out of nowhere, dominate the airwaves for every last second of their fifteen minutes of fame and then, thankfully, disappear into pop oblivion. The respectable artists who were temporarily swept aside to make way for this brief dalliance with the latest “here today, gone tomorrow” pop confection would then return to their rightful place on radio playlists and the ship would right itself.
I mean, acts like Tiffany, Sly Fox, After the Fire, and others had their success, but it was always understood that they’d go away. That’s what one- or two-hit wonders did. It was understood.
But then something weird happened.
