I'm talking about a rock or pop music artist who is considered a joke to many but created one fully realized record--one grand extended moment you have to admit that you like, despite that artist's less than desirable critical reputation or public image.
Ready to laugh? Show me yours and I'll show you mine. I'm guilty of digging these:
Phil Collins--"Another Day In Paradise": Collins, who is ailing and cranky these days, criticized Paul McCartney's musical direction a few years ago, seemingly forgetting his own series of lame Disney soundtracks. And yet, PC made the remarkable "Another Day In Paradise." On that 1989 hit, Collins' touching vocal is in perfect empathy with those who are homeless, there's a simple yet dramatic keyboard riff, plus drums (or perhaps drum samples) to match, and a harmony from David Crosby that takes it to another place. I can't explain what Crosby does in a supporting singing role that makes Jackson Browne's "Doctor My Eyes" just jump out of the speakers, not to mention his harmony work with the Byrds, but it's so uplifting.
Carpenters--"Hurting Each Other": I really believe that radio consultants reassess songs
and remove them from the "Gold" (Oldies) category if they're threatening to a guy's machismo, like Carly Simon's "You're So Vain," or Lesley Gore's "You Don't Own Me" from ten years before that. Or if the track is political--Nena's "99 Luftballons," sung in German, was a bigger hit than its English language counterpart, and neutered radio people like it that way, as the English take clearly depicts Ronald Reagan drooling about Star Wars nuclear fallout. Likewise, consultants don't wish to hear full-on heartbreak, such as the Carpenters' "Hurting Each Other" from 1972. Doesn't matter that "Hurting" got all the way to #2 on the Billboard charts, or that it's a great record with changes from minor to major chords, which heighten Karen Carpenter's terrific vocal. To radio's corporate fools, it's not sweet and creamy like "Close to You," or cutesy like the duo's pathetic remakes, so it got the boot from traditional radio. A shame.
Laura Branigan--"Self Control": The late Laura Branigan's "Gloria" was so awful that it seemed to be all over the airwaves for comedic effect, but 1984's "Self Control" is a most powerful mix of electric guitars and synthesizers, and it certainly sounds like night life in the big city really feels. When I started a job at a radio monitoring company in the late '80s, it became apparent that there were lots of songs from the recent past that I should have been paying attention to, even if I didn't like them at the time. In this case, I recalled the artist but not the song, so I had to ask my new co-workers what the title was. The quickest way to do that was to sing a little of it to them, and so with great embarrassment, I did: "Hey, what's the title of the Laura Branigan song that goes, 'Whoa-oh-oh...BAM! Oh-OH-oh...BAM!' ?" Yeah, it was a hoot to have to sing that to people I barely even knew at the time.
The Association--"Along Comes Mary": This 1966 smash from the California popsters was unlike anything they did since--it actually sounds edgy, with a strong chord progression (which Jeff Beck seemed to lift for his 1971 album cut, "Situation"), a flute, what sounds like a harpsicord, handclaps, and yes, I'm sure it's about pot, which I didn't know about then and don't give a rip about now. Their subsequent hits were skillful but rather vapid ("Cherish," "Windy") and I was hoping to find another song of theirs as great as "Along Comes Mary" when I borrowed a double disc Association anthology from the library a few years back. Yeah, right.
Tommy Roe--"Everybody": A genuinely soulful sing-a-long song from 1963 that is overshadowed by TR's imitation Buddy Holly hit "Sheila" (how could George Harrison have wanted to sing that in the early Beatles' stage show?), or "Dizzy," which at least had a lovable drum sound. You can make up dirty words when Roe's "Sweet Pea" is aired on...uh, Golden Oldies stations (I still do), but we shouldn't shower him with praise when he was really an artist with just one good hit record.
I used to kid my college roommate, Alfred Martinez, about the Doobie Brothers and Seals & Crofts music he listened to, back in the day. I'd tell him that "Rachel" was my favorite Seals & Crofts song, and then explain why: It's one minute in length.