More Cheese, Please

Popular music, like fashion is a funny thing to look back on, and appreciate with timely perspective.

Anyone who has seen a picture of dad in the 70s with ridiculous sideburns, loudly striped bell-bottoms, huge-collared shirts, and those fishbowl spectacles that made your eyes look like a couple of 8-balls about to jump out of your head, knows what I mean.

That was about the time all of the 50s nostalgia began with TV shows like Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley, movies like American Graffiti and Grease, and bands like Sha Na Na even had their own variety show. 10 year-olds thought it was cool, but parents scoffed at the absurd hairstyles, short pants and bobby-socks they left behind.

That was when Disco became popular... for a while. Then around 1980, it became supremely un-cool for what seemed an eternity, until it returned to a young new crowd whose memories of the former were infantile. To the big hair, big shoulder, big shoe generation of the early 90s, old disco had a lovably kitschy appeal.
Those poor sad children that fell in between. Those kids, now mid to late 40s, who spent their teenage years with a "Disco Sucks" mentality, have in many cases, never fully recovered. Conditioned to envision shimmery shirts, designer jeans and high-heeled shoes whenever they hear what 30 year-olds call "the theme from Boogie Nights", they have spent their lives denying its appeal. Only rock music is cool, raw, and badass! Or is it bad-assed? I digress.

I use the example of disco because of it's brazen flamboyance, but the sentiment to which I refer is what some might call "cheesy".

There has always been, and will always be an element of the musical community that is "campy", or "Kitschy". Not to discount anyone's abilities or repertoire, but guys like Mel Torme, Perry Como and Pat Boone were never "edgy". Their music, however catchy, was always just a little bit corny. There always exists a faction of the industry that heads in that direction. This means that they recognize a trend, and formulaically overstate it with unabashed enthusiasm. This tends to leave their music devoid of soul and passion, and at best can only be amusing.

Then there were certain artists who made entire careers, intentionally or not, of a musical style that was always neither Rock nor Soul, and have managed to stand the test of time. Because despite their questionable preference to walk the path of colorlessness, they were true musicians with a penchant for the melodic that some hardcore rockers could learn from. Also, they were committed to their genre, and years later, as uncool as it may seem to the young, their work maintains a certain endearing appeal.

So this is a tribute to those "guilty pleasure" singers of the past, many of whom may have influenced the artists you appreciate now, but who will not admit it.

A list of most notables:

Tony Bennet: Actually, there is nothing uncool about this guy except that he looks like my grandfather's grandfather... after he passed away. His performance style is dated and predictable, but he can always sing, and who doesn't love Tony Bennet? The guy recorded great music, and is still around. Good for you, Tony. Can you hear me? Probably not.

Tom Jones: He was introduced to a new, young audience recently, when he performed a medley of his own tunes with some of the finalists on American Idol. For the rest of us, he instills hope of eternal youth and virility. With the exception of his recently greyed hair, he looks exactly the same as when he wore those barely-buttoned shirts and way-too-tight-in-the-crotch pants during the early 70s. He still captivates an audience, the ladies still swoon
(only now they carry inhalers), and he's still wearing the same barely-buttoned shirts and way-too-tight-in-the-crotch pants. Consequently, over the last 2 decades, he has had at least one big hit every few years, like Prince's Kiss with Art of Noise, Sexbomb with Mousse T, and Stoned in Love with Chicane. Either he really knows who to collaborate with, or it's the other way around.
Bobby Darin: I actually think this guy might have been the coolest of the corny crooners. He married Sandra Dee who was hot, but also the most wholesome of white-bred women in Hollywood. Born Walden Robert Cassotto, he made American classics out of Splish Splash, Dreamlover, and owns the definitive rendition of Mack The Knife. In the mid-60s, amidst the twilight of his film and music career, he turned hippie-folk-rock artist and scored a hit with Tim Hardin's If I Were a Carpenter. (Also recorded by Johnny Cash and Robert Plant). He died in 1973 at age 37, but would certainly have knocked 'em dead 15 years later in Vegas.

Neil Diamond: When I was a kid in the mid 70s. he was already a musical icon. Then in 1980, he released the film and original soundtrack, The Jazz Singer. The story was not new. It was a slightly more modern version of Al Jolson's original, but the music was his own, and is now considered classic. He has a great sense of humor and has appeared in various films playing himself including; Keeping Up With The Steins where he sings Hava Nagila at a bar mitzvah, and Saving Silverman, where, while being kidnapped by fans, he becomes a willing accomplice to their plans after they reveal their story of "Love on the Rocks" to which Neil proclaims, "Ain't no big surprise". Awesome.

Frankie Valli: With or without the "Seasons", this guy is hard to resist. Jersey Boys put his music back on everyone's radar, and people always seem surprised at how many of his songs they recognize without ever having known the source. In addition to the obvious ones like Oh What A Night, Big Girls Don't Cry, and Can't Take My Eyes off You, try Marlena, Let's Hang on, Beggin', and Opus 17. His songs have been covered by Lauryn Hill, Madcon, Muse, Vicki Carr, Cher, and many more. That's the ultimate testimonial.

Barry Manilow: I was once rebuked by the "Fanilows" (who claim Barry doesn't care for the term) for referring to Manilow as a "has-been". While everything else I wrote about him was positive, I was scolded, and told that he had a popular show in Vegas. As one of my readers (Love Child of Dr. J) pointed out, a show in Vegas doesn't exactly relieve oneself of the title of "has-been", but the point moreover is that he has a show that many people come from every corner of the world to see, and that is kind of cool, isn't it? I don't know about you, but I'm "ready to take a chance again".

Englebert Humperdinck: Arnold George Dorsey could have picked a cooler pseudonym. I would have recommended "Snake", "Slick" or even "Dookie" Dorsey, but he didn't ask me, and just went with the name of a 19th century opera composer. Now, some use his name as a paradigm for the musically unhip, but who doesn't enjoy a good Quando, Quando, Quando when it comes on the radio? How many commercials and films have used Please Release Me or The Last Waltz? Well my 2 favourites are the cheesiest of all: After the Lovin' and This Moment in Time are like eating a Krispy Kreme fondue. They're so sappy and Shmaltzy (fatty), that I get stomach cramps and a toothache every time I hear them. That said, if there were spycare in my car, I'd have a million hits on YouTube for my renditions of both.

Tony Orlando (and Dawn): For those of you under 35, Dawn was not one woman, but two. This doo-wop turned lounge singer with velvet tux and matching bow-tie is almost hilarious to watch in retrospect. Never the less, not only are songs like Knock 3 Times, and Sweet Gypsy Rose still fun, but I remember heading up north with some of the guys when Tie a Yellow Ribbon turned into an all-male, swear-we-will-never-speak-of-this, extravaganza, with Michael and Chris playing the part of Dawn. I, of course, was Tony Orlando because... it was my CD.

Donny and Marie: They're back...and in Toronto! Now, I enjoy a little Country, and a little bit of Rock N' Roll, but I am pretty sure that whatever these tickets cost, is exactly that much more than I am willing to spend. Knowing how to sing isn't enough. We must relate to you, and I just can't hear a mormon with 27 children that has admitted to never having had oral sex, sing to me about "Puppy Love". I'd barf. Oops. I think I just did.

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