Crap is in the Ear of the Listener

One day last week, as I was suffering from ennuiPod (the feeling of weariness one gets from listening to the same playlists over and over), I decided to conduct a little experiment.

I contacted a small group of friends to gather their opinions.  I sent the following message by text to the chosen few:

Worst song ever.  Annnnd go.

The responses were, in some cases, surprising, but mostly solid.

My own selection(s) for worst song ever vary from day to day and includes such memorable stylings as:

Don’t Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin
Kokomo by The Beach Boys (a band I hate anyway, except for God Only Knows.)
Don Johnson’s Heartbeat
Theme from Happy Days (not the Billy Haley and the Comets original, but the one from the late 70s by Pratt & McClain)
Mmm Bop by those stringy-haired teenage flash-in-the-pan freaks brothers whose names I care not to recall and refuse to Google.
Havin’ My Baby by Paul Anka  (When I was younger I got him confused with Neil Sedaka a lot.  Because they both suck, I guess.)
Speaking of which…Bad Blood by Neil Sedaka makes my list as well. (PLEASE go watch this. The choreography alone is worth it.)
Plus any one of Bonnie Raitt’s endless, whining addrags.

On this particular occasion, however, I selected Nikita by Elton John.  In part because it had been stuck in my head for two weeks, and in part because it’s true crap.

My friends provided a diverse array of candidates as well.

In the face of all the horrible recordings of the last few decades, my friend Sara named Abracadabra by the Steve Miller Band.  Citing “repetitiveness” as the reason for her dislike, though I know in my heart it’s that she just can’t stand the …I wanna reach out and grab ya… part.

Brie, my roommate from Rx school, was the first to answer.  And, although her selection wasn’t quite the genre I had in mind when asking the question, her answer was quite valid.  Her choice?  University of Florida Fight Song.

Rachel, lover of classic rock, stalker of The Little River Band, upholder of all things decent in the world of music (read: loves Journey as much as I do) replied with the following:

When bad songs happen to good artists: Philadelphia.

I sent a follow up message to clarify whether she meant Streets of Philadelphia by Springsteen or Philadelphia Freedom by Elton John.  Her reply?

Both.

Then I heard from Chris, my coworker with the incredibly eclectic iPod.  One minute you’re listening to George Strait, the next, Fifty Cent.  Her answer?

That ‘Baby Mama’ song…

Since I was unfamiliar with this particular tune, I felt compelled to seek out the mp3.  Google results provided me with two stellar compositions:

Baby Mama by Three 6 Mafia and Baby Mama by former American Idol winner Fantasia Barrino.

Although I am a STAUNCH hater of rap, I must say, the Fantasia song is the worst of the two. It’s like the I Am Woman of the sideways cap wearing, baggy jeans sporting, throwback jersey having, Lincoln Navigator bass thumping, four-oh drinking, cap bustin’ set.  Not to mention the repeated spelling of B-A-B-Y-M-A-M-A throughout. (See also:  Bay City Rollers.)

My new old friend Buddy, with whom I attended middle school in the 80s, truly surprised me with his first response by singling out a track from one of the most unique concept albums ever.  I totally disagree with his choice, but you can’t argue with Buddy.  I mean, you can, but it’s a waste of time and energy.  He always wins, even if he is flat out wrong (e.g. the “you should pull for UT when they play UF” and “y’all v. ya’ll” debates.)

And, though it pains me to even type it, I must report that he selected Mr. Roboto by Styx.

I can’t even comment on the impertinence, the indecency, the absolute effrontery and unmitigated temerity of his choice.  I also can’t comment on Dennis DeYoung’s lavender jumpsuit.  Well, I can, but I won’t.

As I said, though, Mr. Roboto was Buddy’s first answer.

He later came back with the best answer of all.  The granddaddy of all horrible songs, the epitome of effluvium, the absolute travesty of tunage, the universally hated anthem of sell-out corporate rock, We Built This City by Starship, (Which used to be Jefferson Starship which used to be Jefferson Airplane.  Pick a lane already. You too, Mellencamp.)

As you can see, the definition of worst varies a good bit, and it decidedly individual.  Also keep in mind, with the exception of The Orange and Blue, these songs were hits for these artists.

As bad as I believe a tune to be, someone, somewhere probably likes it.

Which only servers to reaffirm my belief that 75% 85% 90% of the population has no appreciable sense of musical taste.

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