In 1985, a washed-up singer named Derek Stevens walked into a meeting with record company execs in hopes of reviving his career. The first song he played for them would become the stuff of legends. It was called “The Lady I Know.” Its opening lyrics were …
“There’s a lady I know – If I didn’t know her, she’d be the lady I didn’t know.” Genius.
Of course, older fans of Saturday Night Live will recall this as a skit performed by Dana Carvey as Derek Stevens and will probably remember “The Lady I Know” by its more colloquial title, “Choppin’ Broccoli.” Carvey/Stevens would revisit the iconic tune over the years but the main hook of the song – and of the comedy – was to simply sing the phrase “choppin’ broccoli” as often as possible.
These silly-named songs somehow reached the top of the charts
That may have been comedy, but all great comedy is derived from truth, and it’s not as if there haven’t been some supremely moronic songs that have graced the popular airwaves. Today’s mission is to discuss five such songs from rock & roll’s golden age, 1965-1974. You know – the era in which your dad tells you music used to be good. Next time he tries that, hit him with these.
Not only was each of the following songs a hit – each was a number one hit in the USA.
Before we start, I want to make one thing clear. These songs may be silly – often lyrically insipid. But that does not necessarily mean they are bad pop songs. One was my absolute favorite song in the world – when I was eight years old. With one notable exception, I kinda/sorta like all of them. But that doesn't mean they are not inane. It just means that with the right earworm of a melody and a professional production, even a song about choppin’ broccoli can capture a moment.
A lightweight lesson, I know. Then again, these are all lightweight songs. In an order that is chronological…
“I’m Henry VIII, I Am” by Herman’s Hermits (1965)
It’s not as if Peter Noone and his cutest possible British invaders were going to crank out rock and roll. Earlier in ’65, they had scored their first US number one with “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter,” with Noone creating the least-threatening boyfriend a parent could hope for. The only chart-topper the Brits scored in their homeland was 1964’s “I’m Into Something Good,” another goofy sing-along about the joys of early love.
Those songs come from a recognizable pop tradition. A young lad fancies an attractive bird and channels those hormonal urges into societally acceptable billing and cooing. “Henry” came from a different place. An older place. It was written in 1910 as a bit of music hall fluff based on one contrived joke. A woman marries a bunch of men named Henry.
When she reaches Henry number eight, the singer of this song, he gets to share a title with one of the most famous monarchs in British history. In Peter Noone’s voice, this Henry is far from the egotistical, rapacious wife-murderer of lore. This Henry is a milquetoast.
There is no chorus. Or no verse? Should you consider the lyrics as a chorus? With minimal garagey drums and guitar, Noone simply sings that verse/chorus three times in the space of 110 seconds. There’s the briefest of surf guitar solos and some chatter from the other Hermits but that’s about it.
Oh yeah -there’s also the genius couplet “Second verse, same as the first,” as short, as mindless, and as perfect as the song itself. “Henry” knocked the Stones’ “Satisfaction” out of the top spot on the Billboard charts. I’m sure there’s a message in that. Feel free to contemplate it on your own.
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