Hereís a switch. This time out the jukebox is filled with a stack of 45ís that I donít like and nobody in their right mind would wanna play. Thatís okay. The stylus on the tone arm is broken and I had to special order one from the pretend jukebox parts factory in Xanadu. So relax and be glad no one can drop in a quarter and play...

The Most Annoying #1 Singles of the 70ís

You know, not all of the music in the 70ís was crap, just most of what they played on AM radio. And unfortunately the cream didnít always rise to the top of the Billboard charts. Here are the numero unoís that I consider to be the biggest stinkers of the decade. And if youíre wondering why "Feelings" by Morris Albert or "Muskrat Love" by The Captain & Tennille didnít make the list, they missed out on a technicality. Neither made it all the way up to the pop apex. Also missing: guilty pleasures like Nick Gilderís "Hot Child In The City" and "The Night Chicago Died" by Paper Lace. Crap is relative.

You Light Up My Life - Debby Boone (1977)

No contest. Hands down the most annoying chart topper of the decade and perhaps the worst number one record ever. Bonus points given for the fact it stayed at the top of the charts for ten miserable weeks. Sung by the daughter of Pat Boone, the white bread singer whose sanitized versions of raunchy R&B songs got airplay in the 50ís in place of the superior versions performed by the original black artists. This is the type of song that made dogs howl, babies cry and high school prom committees pick it as a theme. It also earned Debby Boone a Grammy for Best New Artist, an honor that made her eligible for the "Where Are They Now?" club exactly five years after her acceptance speech ended.

(Youíre) Having My Baby - Paul Anka with Odia Coates (1974)

Paul Anka started out as a teen idol and matured into a Frank Sinatra wannabe who looked more like Frank, Jr. in a leisure suit and sang like a watered down version of Wayne Newton. In other words, he was the kind of character SCTV might invent. Odia Coates was a singer who recorded a couple of duets with Anka and then, for all we know, may have been carried off into a swamp by the Legend of Boggy Creek. Not only was this song a humongous hit, but it also caused a big stink with feminists and people in general who didnít like crap. Regardless, it stayed at number one for three weeks and gets the coveted number two slot in the juke box.

Disco Duck (Part 1) - Rick Dees & His Cast of Idiots (1976)

Novelty songs and disc jockeys are annoying enough on their own, but put the two together and youíve got yourself a special kind of hell to deal with. Rick Dees was working at a radio station in Memphis when he recorded this zany parody song about a guy who turns into a duck when he starts dancing to that crazy disco beat. Who would be dumb enough to buy such a record? The same people that put shows like Threeís Company and Laverne & Shirley in the top ten of the Nielsen ratings.

Escape (The Pina Colada Song) - Rupert Holmes (1979)

The worst Jimmy Buffett record not made by Jimmy Buffett. A guy is tired of his lover and puts an ad in the paper to find someone new to fool around with. He finds a taker but it turns out to be his girlfriend, who has also grown tired of playing hide the puppet with him. Oh, the irony! But at least they can share a laugh over their mutual failed attempts at infidelity.

 

Any #1 Single by John Denver

This bespectacled singer-songwriterís overwhelming popularity in the 70ís still boggles the mind. "Take Me Home, Country Roads" and "Rocky Mountain High" both made the top ten but that was only the beginning of the onslaught. Denver would go all the way to the top with "Sunshine On My Shoulder" (It made him happy), "Annieís Song" (She filled up his senses) and "Thank God Iím A Country Boy" (Made me gag). His final visit to the pop pinnacle came in 1975 when his double-sided hit "Iím Sorry/Calypso" went the distance, which made scanning the radio dial a lot like playing Russian roulette with two bullets in the chamber instead of just one. Denver died in a plane crash in 1997, but it was way too late to do any good. His new music was widely ignored by programmers and his old tunes had already made their way onto the play lists of most oldies stations.

The Morning After - Maureen McGovern (1973)

This was the love theme from The Poseidon Adventure, a movie about a big ship that turns over and the people who try to survive the ordeal while suffering the constant complaining of Ernest Borgnine. The film was a smash hit at the box office and "The Morning After" went on to win an OscarÆ for Best Song, proving that the Grammys didnít hold a monopoly when it came to bad taste. Not one to tinker with success, producer Irwin Allen also had McGovern sing the love theme for his next disaster flick The Towering Inferno. "We May Never Love This Way Again," with itís subtle use of foreshadowing, may not have gone to #1, but it too was honored with an OscarÆ in 1974. However, "The Love Theme from Earthquake!" or "Letís Get It On Before We Fall Into A Big Crack In The Ground," didnít duplicate the success as it wound up on the cutting room floor.

I Am Woman - Helen Reddy (1972)

Mizz Reddyís other number one hits ("Delta Dawn" and "Angie Baby") were also pretty damn irritating, but "I Am Woman" gets the nod because anthems are given special consideration when putting together such arbitrary lists. Plus itís impossible to listen to it without snickering. Yes, she is strong and invincible and if she has to, she can do anything. Now tell her to shut the hell up and make a baby for Paul Anka.

The Streak - Ray Stevens (1974)

Every decade has itís fads. You know, like swallowing gold fish, seeing how many college students you can cram into a phone booth or midget stacking. For some strange reason, in the 70ís it became all the rage to run through public places naked. This phenomenon was called "streaking" and naturally it begged to have a novelty song written about it. Ray Stevens did the honors and provided radio stations with this insipid little record to play over and over and over again. Dickie Goodman meets Hee Haw, only without the song snippets or top heavy honeys that made either of them appealing.

Da Ya Think Iím Sex? - Rod Stewart (1979)

Forget those "Paul is Dead" rumors. I want DNA testing to prove this is the same guy who once sang for Faces and then recorded the greatest pastry song of all time, Every Picture Tells A Story, Donut. What a sell out. Turning in his rock and rock credentials for a quick ride to the top on the disco train. And believe me, itís not a cute little train like Thomas the Tank Engine. Itís a big ugly one that puffs stinky smoke and makes a loud obnoxious noise when it rolls into the radio station. Rod the bod? More like the sod. (And whatís up with the Da in the title anyway? Is that the way they spell "do" in the mother country?)

Star Wars Theme/Catina Band - Meco (1977)

The "Next Big Thing" of the 70ís wasnít a musical act but rather a little science fiction movie called Star Wars. The filmís original score by John Williams was an important ingredient to its success but it wasnít the kind of music the kids could dance to. Enter Meco, a record producer with a silly name who added a redundant disco beat and robot sound effects to his version and a hit was born. As for me, I still prefer Bill Murrayís interpretation as Nick the Lounge Singer on Saturday Night Live.

Donít Give Up On Us - David Soul (1977)

He was the Hutch in Starsky & Hutch, but he wanted people to buy his music on its own merit and not just because he was a pretty face actor on a hit TV show. Nice try. At least his former Here Come The Brides costar Bobby Sherman put out some catchy bubble gum records that were harmless and fun. This is just icky and gooey schmaltz overkill like "Sometimes When We Touch" by Dan Hill, only this song made it to number one. And Iím sure it had nothing to so with the good looks or hit TV show.

Torn Between Two Lovers - Mary MacGregor (1977)

Whatís a poor girl to do? Sheís got two dudes pokiní her and she canít decide between them. At least sheís got the common decency to be open about it, right? For the life of me, Iíll never understand how women can think like that. And I also hate it when they leave the toilet seat down.

Boogie Oogie Oogie - A Taste of Honey (1978)

Maybe Iím still peeved that these lame-O's won the Grammy for Best New Artist instead of Elvis Costello or The Cars. Not that the Grammys mean anything, but give me a break. Did anyone voting for them really think they were going on to bigger and better things? Whatever. Itís a dumb pointless song by a dumb pointless group.

 

Have You Never Been Mellow - Olivia Newton-John (1975)

What the hell kind of question is that? I think itís a trick one that has to be answered with a "Yes, we have no bananas" type of reply. Personally, I have nothing against Miss Newton-John or her hyphen and, in fact, I like a few of her early country pop hits. But when someone puts the word "mellow" in the title of their song, a red flag goes up. This is the kind of MOR drivel that we needed LESS of in the 70ís, easy listening that was hard to take by those of us looking for a quick fix of Stevie Wonder funk or Rolling Stones rock on the AM mainline. "I Honestly Love You" was honestly awful as well and also made it to number one, but this one gets selected because itís hard to ignore a really dopey title.

A Fifth of Beethoven - Walter Murphy & The Big Apple Band (1976)

If you need proof that classical music and disco donít mix, hereís your pudding.

Afternoon Delight - Starland Vocal Band (1976)

The song that makes having a midday quickie sound unappealing sung by the poor manís Abba. Two guys, two girls and a recording contract with a label run by John Denver. Maybe today this dity comes off as a bit of pop fluff but imagine it getting the heavy rotation airplay granted to a record of number one status back in the "Have A Nice Decade." And somehow this one hit wonder group managed to parlay their lone trip to the top into a summer variety show on CBS, a network that was hoping to get two Sonny & Cherís for a fraction of the cost of one Sonny. Regulars on the show included Mark Russell, his piano and Jeff Altman. And one of the writers was some guy named David Letterman..

Mandy - Barry Manilow (1975)

It has become such a clichÈ to hate Barry Manilow that I almost feel reluctant to include him on this jukebox. Besides, the man does have talent as a musician, composer and producer, he just chooses to waste it on banal, soulless pap. And thus Mandy, a sickly sweet ballad that means no real harm, earns a spot on this infamous roster. But only because I canít give the dishonor to Copacabana, one of the worst records ever made. Why not? Because the American public showed some restraint and "the hottest spot north of Havana" only made it to number eight. (Even though it did win Manilow a Grammy for "Best Male Pop Vocalist Who Doesnít Frighten Us.")

The Hustle - Van McCoy & the Soul City Symphony (1975)

Not to be confused with Barry Whiteís Love Unlimited Orchestra (and no reason it should be), the Soul City Symphony is just a name slapped on a label in yet another attempt to add sophistication to a music genre void of such a characteristic (see Walter Murphy & the Big Apple Band). This "song" is bland at best but makes the jump to annoying thanks to those repeated chants of "Do the hustle" that just wonít go away, even long after the record has stopped playing.

My Ding-A-Ling - Chuck Berry (1972)

What becomes a legend most? Certainly not the grade school bathroom humor mentality of this embarrassing live recording by the poet laureate of rock and roll. And yet, itís the first and only Chuck Berry single to make it to the top of Billboardís pop chart. To quote another (and much better) Chuck Berry tune, "It goes to show you never can tell."

Convoy - C.W. McCall (1976)

Here you go, good buddy, yet another recording artist with minimal talent capitalizes on a silly fad and then trucks off into pop music oblivion. The fad was CB radios and the novelty story song that glorified its jargon was the brainchild of an advertising executive who hid behind the redneck friendly moniker of C.W. McCall. The talking delivery of McCall combined with the spurts of CB banter was reason enough to 10-4 this song whenever it turned up on the AM band, but itís the commercial jingle like chorus that really made you wanna put the hammer down on McCallís head and play your 8-track player instead (for sure, for sure).

When I Need You - Leo Sayer (1977)

Leo Sayer was a cute little guy who looked like a Muppet and sang like, well, Iím not sure what. He was the Joel Grey of rock and roll and I say that with sincerest apologies to Mr. Grey. He also wrote his own songs, some of which sounded halfway decent when vocalized by the likes of Roger Daltry on his first solo album. However when Sayer himself wrapped his vocal chords around one of his compositions, it was quite a different story. "Long Tall Glasses (I Can Dance)" was probably his most annoying single, but it didnít make it all the way up to "yar." "When I Need You" was one of those emotional crap fests that had no trouble finding a spot on AM radio play lists because the lyrics oozed with the standard sentimental verbal puss that was often misinterpreted as being romantic. "When I need love, I hold out my hands and I touch love." I think itís about masturbation.

Babe - Styx (1979)

It was a Styx song. It reached number one. And it did it in the 70ís. ëNuff said.

Kung Fu Fighting - Carl Douglas (1974)

Just a stupid, stupid, stupid record that somehow got stupid, stupid, stupid people to open up their wallets and add it to their stupid, stupid, stupid record collections alongside their well worn copies of "The Streak" and "My Ding-A-Ling." The same stupid, stupid, stupid people who tuned into ABCís Kung Fu every week and found David Carradine believable as a chinaman and martial arts expert. And you wonder why the 70ís is often looked back upon as the Decade of Crap.