The Number Fortys: Rick Springfield - "Bop 'Til You Drop"

In The Number Fortys, we review every song that was sitting at #40 on the Billboard chats, starting in the first week of January 1984, right around the time this writer became cognizant/obsessive about music. The seeds for the idea came from Tom Breihan's Number Ones column over at Stereogum. However, we here at k-postpunk believe that the bottom is more interesting than the top (and obscurity is more interesting than either). Also, if you want to read the Number in the title as meaning "more numb," I think that's totally understandable at this point.

Since this is the first time, and likely the last time, this column has encountered Rick Springfield, we might as well mention that his 1982 #1 hit Jessie's Girl is a fantastic song. Since this column is devoted to quantitative analysis as well as qualitative, I'll give it a 10.

Sadly, nothing else in Rick's discography gets past a 3. He had eight songs reach the Top 20, and all of them except for Jessie's Girl are uniformly terrible. This one, his last Top 20 hit, is no exception.

In its implicit criticism of life under capitalism, the way we are forced to value our work over our personal relationships, maximizing our earning potential at the expense of sleep or sanity, the song feels eerily prescient. Just wait until the gig economy rolls around, Rick, and we all get to be our tyrannical boss. In this context, "bop 'til you drop" basically means "work without pleasure until you're dead." That's a powerful message. Or it would be if it wasn't accompanied by the blandest excesses of 80's technopop.

Also, it's unclear whether Rick is pro- or con- all this endless work. If it's a protest against the mechanization of human labor, that's great, BUT IT'S NOT THERE IN THE POEM (sorry, had a flashback to a writing workshop I had with Bill Knott). But honestly, Rick could have sung "the world won't be free until the last capitalist is hung using the intestines of the oligarchs for a noose" and this song would still suck. The music is that bad. It's so bad I'm not even going to insult your intelligence by explaining how bad it is. You have ears. You have some semblance of taste.

Instead, I'm going to tell you how this song is from the soundtrack for the movie Hard to Hold, a movie starring, yep, Rick Springfield. Here's the plot summary from Wikipedia.

James "Jamie" Roberts (played by singer, songwriter Rick Springfield), being a pop idol, is used to having his way with women. He meets child psychologist Diana Lawson (Janet Eilber) in a car accident, however, who not only doesn't swoon at his attentions, but has also never heard of him. He tries to win her affection, but it's complicated by the fact that his ex-lover, Nicky Nides (Patti Hansen), is still a member of his band.

Holy shit. That sounds amazingly bad. But don't make my word for it. Let's hear what Rick had to say about it.

I thought the script was so awful that I threw it across the room; I remember physically throwing it across the room and saying, "This is a piece of shit." Then they offered me a lot of money and I remember picking it up and saying, "I can make this work!" [Laughs.] Which I didn't, because it was still a crappy movie, but I did my best in it and I still make jokes about it actually ... That's probably the only time I'll say my ego got the better of me was when I did that film. I said, "I can make this work". 

He didn't. This song doesn't work either.

Score: 1/10

THE NUMBER ONE


We went deep on this last installment when it hit #1. Crazy thing about this song though, even though it sounds like it could have come straight from her autobiography (indeed, it's the title of her biopic), it wasn't written by, or even for, Tina Turner. It was written by a couple of English guys who tried to get Cliff Richard, and then Donna Summer, and then Bucks Fizz to sing it. By the way, if you've never seen/heard Bucks Fizz before, and you're in the mood for some what-the-fuck-was-up-with-england-in-the-early-80s-vibes, go check them out.

And as much as I love Donna Summer, it's unimaginable that a song like this, a song that sounds like it was ripped our of Tina Turner's life, could have been sung any of those artists. And for once in this sick twisted world where nothing ever goes right, this thing actually went right.

There's a great article about how they made the song over at Sound and Sound, the writing and recording and everything. If you've never been over there, go now. You can learn the story of how they added tons and tons of instruments, including live drums, string, etc., and then ended up taking them all out.

Anyway, this song is still a 10.

The Number Fortys: Madonna - "Lucky Star"

In The Number Fortys, we review every song that was sitting at #40 on the Billboard chats, starting in the first week of January 1984, right around the time this writer became cognizant/obsessive about music. The seeds for the idea came from Tom Breihan's Number Ones column over at Stereogum. However, we here at k-postpunk believe that the bottom is more interesting than the top (and obscurity is more interesting than either). Also, if you want to read the Number in the title as meaning "more numb," I think that's totally understandable at this point.

My god. This was the song that broke Madonna, or more accurately, the video that broke Madonna. This song may be at #40 right now, but it's about to be her first Top 5 single. Her next 15 singles after this are also going to reach the Top 5. Seven of those are going to reach #1. Madonna is about to be one of the biggest stars of the decade, and one of the biggest (and best) singles artists in the history of recorded music.

Watching this video, it's impossible not to see why. The woman is a star. Had any singer--male, female, or otherwise--ever appeared this confident in front of a camera before?. When you watch this video you're watching a person being transformed into an icon. Girls all over America started dressing like Madonna after seeing this video. Hell, it makes me want to dress like Madonna.

The song itself is essentially a nursery rhyme. You get the feeling it only exists because the writer was excited about the double meaning of  "heavenly body" and couldn't wait to write a song around it. That songwriter, by the way, was Madonna. But hell, you can dance to it. You almost can't not dance to it. And the singing is incredible, especially the multi-tracked harmonies in the "You may be my lucky star, but I'm the luckiest by far." She got a lot of shit, especially early in her career, from people saying she couldn't sing. And yeah, she's no Aretha Franklin. But as an expression of one's personality? As a communicative device? As something that captures your attention and urgently conveys the existence of a person in the universe? From those perspectives, Madonna's one of the greatest singers who's ever lived.

She would get even better as the decade progressed, and the fact that this column will encounter most of these songs means there's no point in going into them here (though Into the Groove, despite dominating the radio, was never released as an actual physical single, and so never appeared on the Top 40 chart; Into the Groove is a straight 10). Like I said, as a song, Lucky Star isn't anything extraordinary. It's so overwhelmed by the context around it, the video and the creation of a star, that it's almost impossible to hear the song for what it is. But even that says something about Madonna's force of personality that she is able to dominate the song, and turn something flimsy into something iconic.

But all of that is hyper-analytical cultural criticism bullshit. I love Lucky Star. If I heard it on the radio, I would never, never, ever change the station. We forget sometimes that listening to music isn't only about evaluation & analysis & context & semiotics (thx internet). It's also about pleasure. And goddamn Lucky Star is a pleasure to listen to.

Score: 9/10

THE NUMBER ONE

Tina Turner was 45 years old when she had her first #1 hit. I'm not going to dive too deep into her personal history here, but let me assure you that she had been through hell. The cynicism in this song, the bitter truth at its heart, was something she understood very well. This is not a young person's song.


And how cool is it that a song like this could reach #1, a song about futility, fear, and the agony of being a person who can't help feeling love even when they know that it usually leads to misery and torture. I'm not going to quote statistics on domestic abuse, a rational-sounding neutral euphemism we use because the actual language of what happens in those situation--the cycles of violence that are re-enacted, perpetuated, and created whenever it happens--are too horrific to face with direct language. This is a song about many things, but to me it's a song about the next person who comes along after the abuse has stopped (or rape, or any kind of sexual trauma--the song is open enough to allow room for any survivor).

To me, the narrator in the song isn't saying that love is pointless, or worthless. It's saying that just because you love someone, or are attracted to them, doesn't mean you have to be with them. That love has nothing to do with it. And that narrator is absolutely right. What's Love Got To Do With It is one of the wisest, most moving songs to ever reach #1, and the fact that it did so makes me proud to be a human being coexisting on this planet with other human beings. Good job, everyone.

Score: 10/10.

The Number Fortys: Lindsey Buckingham - "Go Insane"

In The Number Fortys, we review every song that was sitting at #40 on the Billboard chats, starting in the first week of January 1984, right around the time this writer became cognizant/obsessive about music. The seeds for the idea came from Tom Breihan's Number Ones column over at Stereogum. However, we here at k-postpunk believe that the bottom is more interesting than the top (and obscurity is more interesting than either). Also, if you want to read the Number in the title as meaning "more numb," I think that's totally understandable at this point.

I respect/admire/like Lindsey Buckingham for the same reasons most critics do--the production/arranging skills, the Eno/Wilson-isms of Tusk. Even if my fave F-Mac song is probably Love In Store (it's a 9; and that could be b/c it's not as overplayed as most F-Mac), I'd take Buckingham's entire recorded output over the others.

You can also play a fun F-Mac game, similar to what people do with the solo Beatles in the early 70's, where you take their separate recorded output around this time, combine it with the best stuff off Mirage, and make an 35-40 minute album that is one of the defining early 80's statements. A Mirage that had Edge of Seventeen, Trouble, Stand Back, Bwana, etc. is a damn fine album For that matter Buckingham's 1982 solo debut, Law and Order, was so good that 20 years or so later they named a TV show after it.

This song, the title track from his 1984 album, was uh, not so good.



And the music lays out its ideas pretty early and then repeats them until the song ends. I guess that is, in a sense, what every song does, but Go Insane's ideas are pretty rote. That four note keyboard hook at the end of every single line (bah-bah-bum-bah) gets more annoying every time I listen to it. You hear it after every line in the verse and the chorus and the goddamn instrumental break. There's no bridge. The verse melody and chorus melody are almost exactly the same. It sounds like the song only exists to get stuck in your head--Lindsey as mad scientist creating earworms to torture the world.

Regarding the lyrics, I think I speak for every astute observer of the human condition when I say, "Yikes." Buckingham touches pretty much every abuser red flag (control, possessiveness, it's the chick's fault, etc.). At least he doesn't mention harming pets? Even worse, Lindsey's kind of got a history with hitting, choking, and kicking women. So you can't really chalk this up to a "character study" or some shit. Maybe a cry from the depths of cocaine.

Sure, the song's catchy, and Lindsey's voice sounds great, but this song is flimsy as hell with lyrics that turn the stomach.

Score: 3/10

THE NUMBER ONE

It's funny we think of 1984 as the year of Prince, or Madonna, or Cyndi Lauper. But if this column has taught us anything (and it has, it has), it's that 1984 was the year of the movie soundtrack. With MTV still playing a dominant role in shaping people's tastes and desires, some smart record execs, or movie execs, or both, realized that if they paired a movie with a hit soundtrack, they would essentially get free advertising for their movie when people watched the videos or listened to the radio, and the soundtrack would get free advertising whenever people saw the movie, thus creating a circular feedback loop marketing people call synergy. Or at least, they used to call it that. I'm sure there's some newer buzzword by now. This was foolproof well into the 90s, until MTV stopped playing videos and people stopped going to movies. That was the opposite of synergy. Sentropy?

Score: Still a 4. I can't believe this song spent this long at #1.

The Number Fortys: Bruce Springsteen - "Cover Me"

In The Number Fortys, we review every song that was sitting at #40 on the Billboard chats, starting in the first week of January 1984, right around the time this writer became cognizant/obsessive about music. The seeds for the idea came from Tom Breihan's Number Ones column over at Stereogum. However, we here at k-postpunk believe that the bottom is more interesting than the top (and obscurity is more interesting than either). Also, if you want to read the Number in the title as meaning "more numb," I think that's totally understandable at this point.

I think I read somewhere that Bruce wrote this song for Donna Summer. I'm not sure what happened, whether she passed on it or what, but I wish she had. Not that I'm a huge Donna Summer fan (though I Feel Love is a 10), it's just that I'm one of those effete communists who think Springsteen blows.

Not that I haven't tried. Hell, as a young person in their early teens, I even kind of fell a little under his spell for a couple of years there. Can someone despise Springsteen, the inadvertently jingoistic shitbag (yeah, we definitely needed a rousing anthem of unity after 9/11 asshole), while still having favorite songs by said shitbag? Sure I can. Here goes: State Trooper, One Step Up, Atlantic City, Darkness on the Edge of Town, Dancing in the Dark, Bobby Jean, Brilliant Disguise, and I'm On Fire. Though it has to be said that even one of Bruce's best songs is way better when done by someone else.

Electrelane never had a Top 40 hit, but remind me to tell you how they were one of the best bands of the first decade of the 21st century. Anyway, before we get to Bruce, I just wanted to show an example of what I consider to be passionate, raw, delirious rock. That cove was a 10 by the way.

Now let's get to Bruce's shit.

It's funny he tried to give it to Donna, because this beat isn't disco at all. It's more...horsey. Like someone riding up over the plains. Bouncy bouncy bounce bounce. Hell, that shout he gives at the beginning of the song literally sounds like some movie cowboy jump starting his horse. The rest of the music is basically a minor blues, nothing special. It sounds like it took 30 minute to write.

And check out that video. Not sure how anyone in Jersey got their hair cut when Bruce was on tour, since his whole band looks like a bunch of Italian barbers, except for Clarence (that's a phrase btw, "except for Clarence" that Bruce probably heard a lot). I don't know who that fucking guy at 2:48 is, but the idea that a schlub like that was in one of the biggest bands on the planet in the mid 80's is, uh, kind of beautiful i guess? Bruce may be a preposterous ball of corn and cheese, but he's not stupid. He surrounded himself with some of the ugliest, doofiest looking motherfuckers to ever stand on a rock stage (except for Clarence--see what I mean), and as a result, every time Bruce stepped on stage he was the best looking guy in the room (you ever see his audience? They're even uglier than the band.

Lyrically, the song is laughably straightforward. The singer is asking for a lover, most likely female (because despite all that leather and the stage kisses he used to plant on Clarence's lips, Bruce seems to have fallen solidly on the hetero side of the sexual spectrum) to protect and shelter him from the cold cruel world. Basically, he's asking the woman to do the unpaid emotional labor that women are always expected to do. There's no mention of any reciprocation from Bruce. What's in it for her? I don't think he's even going to pay her. And may I be so bold as to suggest that maybe the world is even "rougher" and, uh, "tougher" (it may have taken less than 30 mins actually) for the woman in this song. Not much of a sales pitch there, buddy. I guess she just gets the honor of protecting Bruce from the elements. Wind, rain, and snow all get a mention. Maybe the song's sung from the point of view of a mailman?

I don't know. Maybe, with its references to scoring and "snow," the song is about cocaine? Nah. Bruce seems like the kind of guy who would start crying if he saw somebody doing drugs.

Cover Me was the second single from the megalithic Born in the USA. The album would spawn five more, all of them Top 10, including this one. Let the record show that my dad, a Vietnam vet, fucking hated this album and its existence in the public consciousness. Springsteen did well in the draft lottery, and decided to go play music on the beach. My dad didn't do nearly as well, in the lottery, or in music. The idea of Springsteen making money singing about Vietnam pissed my father off to no end, but I think it was Springsteen's de-politicization of the war (while still flying the flag on his album and at shows) that galled him the most. Springsteen didn't explicitly endorse a candidate for president until John Kerry in 2004. Ronald Reagan, another reactionary cartoon selling nostalgia for a past that never really existed, would mention Bruce Springsteen every chance he got during his 1984 campaign. And Bruce, not wanting to, uh, alienate anyone from his hokey-ass rock & roll dream where the music brings us together, man, responded by getting someone to write an op-ed explaining how Reagan was misinterpreting the songs. Me, I think Reagan understood the songs just fine. Springsteen and Reagan both told stories of a (white) America that was down on its luck, made up of good (white) people fallen on hard times, but who would through their (white) strength and perseverance keep showing up to work every day. The only difference is Reagan offered a solution. Sure, the solution was deceitful, cruel, corrupt, and cynical in the extreme (I MEAN THE IDEA THAT GIVING RICH PEOPLE MORE MONEY WOULD EVER EVER EVER MAKE THE LIVES OF WORKING PEOPLE BETTER ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME). But uh, wait. What was I talking about?

Oh yeah. Cover Me's a 4. It's fine. I like horsey-beat songs.


THE NUMBER ONE



Here's a fun exercise. Let's imagine that there was no Ghostbusters movie, no need for a theme song, and then let's imagine that Ray Parker Jr. wrote this song anyway, that he had this great idea for a song, a song about people who capture and detain supernatural entities. Would this have still been a hit? I'd like to believe it would be about a minute shorter. That chorus sure goes on for a while. Now let's imagine that someone heard this song about busting ghosts and decided to make a movie out of it. That kind of thing has happened more times than you think. How would the movie be different? How would it be the same?

Score: 4.

The Number Fortys: Eurythmics - "Right By Your Side"

In The Number Fortys, we review every song that was sitting at #40 on the Billboard chats, starting in the first week of January 1984, right around the time this writer became cognizant/obsessive about music. The seeds for the idea came from Tom Breihan's Number Ones column over at Stereogum. However, we here at k-postpunk believe that the bottom is more interesting than the top (and obscurity is more interesting than either).

In the pantheon of bands made up of two members where one person handles the music and the other handles the singing, Eurythmics are the missing link between Sparks and Pet Shop Boys, or maybe Suicide and Erasure, but they're not as good (whatever that means) as any of those bands. In Eurythmics, Annie Lennox handled the singing and Dave Stewart handled the music. The fact that the former is much better known than the latter is almost enough to think that, in this case at least, the universe if a just and decent place. To put it more simply, Annie was, and most likely still is, a better singing person than David was, and very much likely still is (his last notable credit was co-writing the No Doubt song Underneath It All; it's a 0) a music person.

Eurythmics emerged, in a chart sense, in 1983 when Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) reached #1. That song's great (a 9, probably). The next single, Love is a Stranger, was even better (it's also a 9--don't make me break out the decimal points). The next single, Who's That Girl, was kind of boring, is you ask me (a 4). The single after this, Here Comes the Rain Again is a moody atmospheric affair with shoo-wop backing vocals that I still find myself singing sometimes when it starts to rain, even if it makes my brain hurt to try and figure out what a new emotion falling on one's head would feel like or look like,

Right By Your Side is worse than any of those songs. I haven't heard every Eurythmics song. Looking at their discography, I can see I haven't even heard every single (was Don't Ask Me Why a Billy Joel cover, wait don't answer that). But I can definitely say that of all the Eurythmics songs I've ever heard, this one is the worst.

It's one thing to be kind of boring. This song is actively annoying. It's like being trapped in an overpriced Miami restaurant while some guy with a Casio plays some "island music" for the customers (your tips are greatly appreciated) It's as authentically Caribbean as the movie Cocktail. Speaking of which, I'd rather listen to Kokomo. And by the way, the genre(s) being pilfered from here--calypso? reggae?--are vague enough that I don't feel comfortable being any more specific than Caribbean.

The worst thing is it's catchy. Give me an unmemorable shitty song any day. Interestingly, the verse melody here, all isn't too far from John Cougar Mellencamp's "The Authority Song." Both came out within a month with each other. Go figure.

Cool trumpet solo from the guy with all the affectations though. I think I saw his kid riding a unicycle around town last week. Annie's a legend so we won't say anything about her leopard skin pillbox hat. Lastly, I looked it up, and no one in that audience was even fucking nominated for an Academy Award that year. Which is a shame, because you know every single one of these cheering people were acting their asses off.

Score: 2/10.

THE NUMBER ONE

It's a well-known fact that Ray Parker Jr. got sued for stealing the melody, rhythm, and beat for this song from Huey Lewis & the News' I Want a New Drug." We already wrote about Huey's song here, but it's worth noting Ray's quick turnaround time. These songs came out about six months apart. Normally, people wait 10 years or so before ripping something off, usually from a song they heard growing up. It gives them plausible deniability (I don't know how that melody go there officer. It must have been in my sub-conscious). Ray Parker just straight up heard that on the radio on his way to the recording studio and thought, "Yeah, that one sounds good. I'm sure they'll all have forgotten this one in six months."

I bet Huey Lewis & the News were some ecstatic motherfuckers when they heard this song. First off, a black artist had ripped them off. And not just any black artist, Ray was a former member of Raydio and had serious R&B cred. Huey and his band must have thought they were some serious funk-fueled bastards the day they heard Ghostbusters. It's like we're Big Mama Thornton and he's Pat Boone, they howled with glee.

And I'm guessing the second thought they had was they were going to get paid. Because all those old blues guys may not have gotten paid (hell, most of them didn't even own their songs), but Huey and his band had something those other guys didn't. They had white skin (probably still do for all I know). Ray Parker Jr. had grown up in America, and he had no illusions about the legal system. He settled out of court for an undisclosed amount.

Believe it or not, this is going to be #1 for a bit longer. We'll talk more about it next installment.

Score: 4.

Tweetbait

It's self-promotion described as crowdsourcing. Not only is it irresistible to anyone online who thinks their opinion on mundane bullshit is worth sharing with the world (i.e. all of us), it's irresistible to anyone who likes to subvert said bullshit by providing an unexpected answer that calls the entire premise into question (i.e. a few of us). I'm not going to post/embed examples, because why give the glory merchants any more attention. But when you ask a question on twitter like this one I just saw.

What extremely popular TV show have you never seen a single episode of?

It looks like fun, right? Ooh, I have a good one. But let's stop and think. Do we really think this person gives a shit what TV shows we have or haven't seen? I saw an even worse one last week, asking people to name a song that features the name of a geographic location (both of these were quote-tweets from people I follow on my personal account). My first thought was, you mean like Penny Lane by the most popular fucking band of all time? Or Strawberry Fields Forever, on the very same fucking single? Or how about a song called Hotel California off the best-selling album in the history of recorded music? (I know it's not on the Greatest Hits Vol. 1; my first thoughts aren't always correct). I was thinking this guy can't be fucking serious.

And then I realized he wasn't serious. He wasn't interested in an answer, or starting a discussion, or even trying to make a really long Spotify playlist. He was trying to gain visibility, traction for his (in this case) recording project--no, I didn't listen. That's what he wanted me to do.

I got suckered (on my personal account, the one for this site is deliberately more cynical and anti-social than the real life version of me) the other day by this one:

My dad's never used a cashpoint. I've never eaten a Subway. What's the most ordinary thing you've never done (and are possibly becoming secretly proud of?).

"Crystal meth," I quote-tweeted, feeling proud of my joke. I mean, who could resist a set-up like that. But then, that was the point wasn't it? It worked either way. Either people posted some mundane normie bullshit like "chocolate." Or they tried to find something horrible in order to express the horror of 21st century life. I was hoodwinked, horn-swabbled, fooled.
I
Don't be like me. Hell, don't be like you. Let's avoid the tweetbait when we see it. I can't imagine anything sadder than posting a question like, "okay, everybody best 80's TV theme song: GO" and the person getting zero replies, a twitter ratio of someone who never got into a single game.

But as long as I'm here, I just have to say it HAS TO BE this one.

The Number Fortys: Night Ranger - "When You Close Your Eyes"

The week of July 28, 1984 saw Prince remain at #1 for the fourth consecutive week with When Doves Cry, and #40 saw the return of Robin Gibb as he ended his brief trip through the Top 40. This mirrored the chart positions exactly of three weeks earlier, which means I have no reason on earth to write about them again (here's a link to three weeks ago).

Sometimes a band name makes perfect sense when viewed from the right perspective. Night Ranger is a stupid name. Night Ranger is a stupid band. See? Makes total sense.

Night Ranger is best known for "Sister Christian," a song that can only be enjoyed ironically; it's a 6, but I don't really mean it.

Fun fact: The band actually held off on releasing Sister Christian because they were afraid of losing their credibility as hard workers. No shit.

I hate everything about this band, the way they sound, the way they look, the video, the song, the melody, the guitar solo. That this song climbed to #14 on the charts is as good an indictment of this decade as anything. The subject of the song, I wonder if that girl I dated in high school still thinks about me, because I haven't dated anyone since then and so I obsess over the one person who I actually got to kiss in my life, is so obviously targeted at what I imagine as the typical Night Ranger fan as to border on shameless pandering. The fact that a great band like Van Halen basically ripped the chorus off a couple of years later in their song "Dreams" only makes it worse.

This song, and Sister Christian, are from a Night Ranger album called Midnight Madness. Allmusic gives it four stars, and called When You Close Your Eyes a "memorable melodic rocker." Allmusic should delete their fucking website. The writer also called the song "(You Can Still) Rock in America," a song that is absolute garbage, "frenetic."

See, I would have described this as a song about a 16 year old girl sneaking out to get laid that manages to equate her burgeoning sexuality with the band's image of themselves as courageous rockers fighting against the oppression of Americans not wanting them to rock. As such, the song, in its false sense of victimhood,  anticipates our current era where white men can still rule everything in this country and yet manage to see themselves as marginalized. Imagine thinking you were a hero in 184 for having the courage to rock, in America. Whatever..

When You Close Your Eyes is a 2. (You Can Still) Rock in America is a 0. Night Ranger is a blight on the history of music.

THE NUMBER ONE

 

Prince definitely rocked harder than Night Ranger. And off the top of my head, he didn't have to use the word Rock in any of his songs to get that point across. In fact, I'm pretty sure that any song after 1963 that has the word rock in its title does not actually, in fact, rock (Run DMC's King of Rock is an exception). Feel free to submit more exceptions in the comments. The person who posts the best song, as judged by me, the proprietor of this blog outpost, will receive a free t-shirt.

And don't come at me with Def Leppard's Rock of Ages either. That song blows.