Were I writing this list in 1970, I suspect it would be very different. For one thing, I was not yet ten years old and my musical tastes were not what they are today. More importantly, the times were very different. Some of what we thought back then was acceptable, or even cool, has not aged well.
That’s always a challenge for anyone trying to offer historical consideration on pop culture. How much do we consider the era in which the work originated? How should we apply modern understanding? I come from a background in film history where we commonly refer to this as the “Birth of a Nation dilemma.”
I’m going to repurpose that film debate for “The Ballad of the Green Berets,” a martial paean to fighting men from Staff Sergeant Barry Sadler (yes – that’s how he was credited) which hit the top of the charts in 1966. “The Ballad of the Green Berets” may be the most divisive song to ever ascend to number one in the history of the Billboard charts. Its jingoism in the face of the burgeoning counter-culture, anti-war movement in the mid-‘60s angered many.
Ten awful songs that hit number-one during the 1960s
From a historical perspective, it’s fair to argue that its popularity may have bolstered flagging support for a disastrous war. It may have actually prolonged US involvement in Viet Nam. Thus, it may not merely be the most divisive song. It may be the most pernicious as well.
But I don’t have it on my ten-worst list. If I was forced to listen to a song for 24 hours straight, there are at least ten other number ones from the 1960s that would drive me to madness before Staff Sergeant Barry Sadler. I am not saying “The Ballad of the Green Berets” is a quality piece of music. It is decidedly not. I’m just saying that there were worse in that most eclectic of decades.
The world was changing. Rock and roll was on the rise, but many vestiges of the past held on. That’s the thing about vestiges. And about the past. In lieu of a traditional Honorable Mentions list here, I want to toss out a few other number-one songs that I considered for inclusion, with a brief explanation of why they didn’t make the cut. In addition to “The Ballad of the Green Berets,” the 1960s saw the following songs climb to the pinnacle…
“THE STRIPPER” – David Rose (1962)
I’m not sure if anyone over the age of 40 still associates this short, brassy instrumental with its reputation as stereotypical stripper music back in the 1960s. Its roundabout and improbable journey number one is actually rather quaint when viewed from a distance. Not really much of a song, but not as soul-crushing as some others from the decade.
“RINGO” – Lorne Greene (1964)
Lorne Greene (of Bonanza fame) is light years better than fellow thespian-turned-recording-artist William Shatner, and I suppose the simple western story he intones in “Ringo” is light years-squared better than Captain Kirk’s “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds.” But Shatner never made it to number one. Greene did, and I don’t know why.
“Ringo” isn’t bad enough to make my list, but it was perfect fodder for a parody by Frank Gallop (doing a darn good Greene impression) called “The Ballad of Irving” on When You’re in Love the Whole World is Jewish in 1966. Irving could not outdraw "Ringo," but he got a better song.
“I’M HENRY THE VIII, I AM” – Herman’s Hermits (1965)
When they scored a number one record with “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter” earlier in ’65, Peter Noone came off as a twee, sunshine pop cutie pie. Their follow-up hit, an old music hall gimmick, was ear-splittingly annoying to anyone over the age of 10. I cannot put it on my list of worst numbers because at the time, I was under ten, and it was without question my favorite song in the world.
“SOMETHIN’ STUPID” – Frank and Nancy Sinatra (1967)
This is the best song I will mention today. It’s a sweet, wise romance with a rolling melody that lulls you into humming along. And if it wasn’t for the fact that a father and daughter sang it to each other, it probably would not merit any attention almost sixty years later. But since a father and daughter did sing it to each other, it retains an ickiness that won’t wash off. Frank jokingly referred to “Somethin’ Stupid” as “the incest song.”
“SUGAR SUGAR” – The Archies (1969)
I despise “Sugar Sugar.” It’s the kind of pre-fab pop that the public is always getting force-fed. I’d take half a dozen Partridge Family songs before this one. I could be wrong but I don’t think the Archies existed. They were like the Monkees, only the Monkees could play music and sing. The Archies merely fronted some studio musicians.
It’s not on my list because I have to admit the melody is catchy enough, and the song doesn’t overstay its welcome. But when you consider that it was sandwiched between the Stones’ “Honky Tonk Woman” and the Temptations’ “Can’t Get Next to You” at number one, you get a better sense of why it is basically number eleven on my list.
OK, so much for the appetizer. On to the main course. The ten worst number-one hits of the 1960s, countdown style.
10. 'IF YOU WANT TO BE HAPPY" - Jimmy Soul (1962)
David Soul (no relation) scored in the bottom five on my worst 1970s number ones, so I suppose this confers bragging rights onto Jimmy when Soul-singers get together. If you ignore the lyrics, this is a mildly infectious tune whose biggest crime is the redundancy of that melody. But that’s a trademark of plenty of subpar hits.
This one has an adequate little sax solo in the middle, but the production seems so concerned with creating a happy, party atmosphere that it is loaded up with band members chirping away in the background, including during a silly little spoken word “dialogue” moment toward the end.
Then you consider the lyrics. “If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life – Never make a pretty woman your wife – So in my personal point of view – Get an ugly girl to marry you.” And, not for nothing, the ugly girl has to be able to cook. You’d think pop music couldn’t get much more condescending than this. You’d be wrong. At least Jimmy makes it clear that this is his “personal point of view” and does not attempt to impose it upon society at large. By today’s standard, that’s downright progressive.
9. “WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL” – The New Vaudeville Band (1966)
“Winchester Cathedral” is barely over two minutes long, and for the first half, it’s merely a negligible music hall instrumental. You may find it sweet throwback or silly tripe. It’s kind of both. Then the vocal begins.
John Carter, who actually sang background on the Who’s “I Can’t Explain” a year earlier, serves up an exaggerated accent that was designed to mimic crooners from the pre-war years. There’s a reason why that style of singing was no longer in fashion by the ‘60s.
Had he played it straight, it may not have been quite as annoying, but the contrivance in the sound makes it clear that the entire song is mocking this type of music. Frank Sinatra recorded the song later that year and showed what a real singer could do with it. It’s a straight version – nothing particularly special, but way better than the Vaudevillians.
8. “CALCUTTA” – Lawrence Welk (1961)
Take away the British music hall style, and much of what I just said about “Winchester Cathedral” could be applied to Welk’s number-one hit from 1961. It also runs just over two minutes, and for the first quarter, when it is strictly instrumental, it’s entirely innocuous. Then the singing starts.
Well, it’s not really singing. It’s a bunch fresh faced central Europeans intoning “na na na.” At least that’s what it sounds like to me. I can see them all at the beer hall doing a rousing dance. “Na na na na na na.” After that, you get an accordion solo for a while before those smiling beer drinkers return for the big finish.
(By big finish, I mean they simply repeat the same melody we have been hearing for the last two minutes, with a final double time “LaLaLa” to put an exclamation point on the end. What any of this has to do with Calcutta is one of the great mysteries of modern music.)
7. “RUNNING BEAR” – Johnny Preston (1960)
This is not the only time Native Americans will show up on this list. You can choose for yourself which example is more offensive. This particular song begins with some bastardized version of a war chant to get you into the tale. The chant runs underneath much of the song, and returns to the fore at the very end, with the added bonus of some old-school whooping to – I suppose – make it even more authentic.
The sad story is a Romeo & Juliet tragedy of the young Indian brave Running Bear and the apple of his eye, the lovely Little White Dove. But alas, their tribes were at war and their romance was doomed to failure until they threw off this mortal coil and drowned in the raging river that separated them. Thus could they be together “in that happy hunting ground” (in this sky, I’m guessing.)
What makes this extra strange is that the song flirts with breaking out into an interesting bluesy tune with some nice sax work from Link Davis. But just as it does, Preston yanks it back to that awful native chanting and maudlin storyline. Give me Hank singing “Kaw-Liga” any day. It may not be any more authentic or any less condescending, but it just sounds a thousand times better.
6. “THERE! I’VE SAID IT AGAIN” – Bobby Vinton (1964)
Bobby Vinton had a bunch of hits in the early ‘60s. Several made it to number one. That’s a lot of success for a good-looking, dull-voiced heartthrob. That voice was perfectly nice and unthreatening, and when he latched onto a good song, the results were just fine. That’s what happened with “Blue Velvet” and “Mr. Lonely.” His first number one – “Roses Are Red (My Love)” – is a little stodgier.
But it doesn’t come close to the old-fashioned schmaltz of “There! I’ve Said it Again.” The melody drags the listener off to dreamland, and the heavenly choir of backing vocals does nothing to wake you up. It’s as if that exclamation point after “There” in the title is mocking us.
Here's the thing. Sam Cooke recorded this song several years before Vinton. Though it came first, the production is far more modern, not weighted down by strings and choirs. Most importantly, Cooke’s vocals are so much more immediate and contemporary. His phrasing – taking a cue from Sinatra - is more conversational and more expressive. The song may not be among the best, but in Cooke’s voice, it sounds like a real song. When Vinton sings it, it’s a collection of grandiose and dull pop cliches.
5. “HONEY” – Bobby Goldsboro (1968)
You know, sometimes I think I should write dictionaries. It takes Oxford seven words to define mawkish: “sentimental in a feeble or sickly way.” I could do it in less than half that: “Bobby Goldsboro’s “Honey.” This gentle little nursery rhyme of a melody drags on for four full minutes.
The singer is recalling a young woman – sometimes I think it’s his daughter, but then I remember it’s really his wife. The point is, she’s infantilized – “kind of dumb and kind of smart.” He surprises her “with a puppy” at one point. Oh, yeah, and she cries a lot, over pretty much anything.
Three-quarters of the way into the memory, we find out she’s dead (or that “the angels came” which is Goldsboro’s way of saying dead). He misses her and he’s being good, and I suppose we should all feel a little tear. I’ve teared up over plenty of other sad songs, many of which lean heavily to the sappy side of the tree. But I find it hard to cry over this one. That’s because it’s mawkish. You have your definition.
4. “MR CUSTER” – Larry Verne (1960)
There are still three ‘60s hits I deem worse than Larry Verne’s “Mr. Custer,” but if I were being forced to listen to one song over and over again for 24 straight hours, I would choose any of those three over this one. That’s because Verne’s voice as a cowardly soldier begging to be excused from today’s attack, is the most grating vocal ever recorded in a successful pop song.
Now, he’s doing that voice on purpose. This is a novelty song and it is meant to be funny. It actually is funny the first time you hear it. Perhaps had Verne treated it like ghost pepper – a little going a very long way – it might have worked. But that’s not what we get. We get an entire song sung in a voice that was designed to be irritating.
This is the second (and blessedly final) Native American-themed song on our list, so of course it begins with the requisite war whoops and drumbeats. You have to establish that mood. Then a manly chorus of – I don’t know – cavalrymen maybe? – begins our tale. It is just before Little Big Horn and our hero has a question. “What am I doing here?” He then whines his way through the next two minutes, cracking a few jokes along the way, all in that VOICE.
Finally, the sound of arrows brings the song to a merciful end. Now, this is a novelty song, and as such, I do cut it a little slack. I went through this with “Disco Duck” in my ‘70’s countdown. But the duck had a much less obnoxious voice than Larry Verne, so it only came in 10th on the ‘70’s list.
3. “WOODEN HEART” – Joe Dowell (1961)
“Wooden Heart” is a truly awful song. It is based on a very old German melody that can’t really decide if it wants to be a nursery rhyme or an actual song. But I don’t really want to blame the songwriters, one of whom was Bert Kaempfert. (Yes – the very same Bert Kaempfert mentioned in Barenaked Ladies’ “One Week,” another number-one hit. But I digress.)
Elvis Presley had already released the song in Europe (though not in the US) by the time Dowell recorded it. I have a guess as to why Elvis didn’t release it in the States at first. It is not good. Not by a long stretch. But it is a lot better than Dowell’s.
For one thing, Dowell’s tinny oom-pah orchestration sounds like it could have been played on a child’s plastic keyboard. More importantly, his vocals are as forgettable as possible. At least Elvis could sell a song. Even a bad song. Even if he wasn’t really trying. Elvis had charisma. Dowell offered tedium.
The soft-focus backing voices don’t help, nor do the carnival-like “solos” which merely repeat the melody line. I’m guessing that after Dowell hit it big, Col. Tom decided to cash in by getting Elvis’ version out in the US. Elvis barely charted, and there are two ways to interpret that.
Either the American public figured they had already heard the definitive version by Mr. Dowell. Or else they were kind of chagrined at the realization that they had pushed this song all the way to number one and simply wanted to forget the whole thing. You can probably guess which theory I support.
2. “GO AWAY LITTLE GIRL” – Steve Lawrence (1963)
I have no problem with Donny Osmond’s version of this song, which went to number one the following decade. But this song – written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin, no less – is as drecky as they come. When Osmond did it, he was a kid and it comes off as a cute little teeny-bopper’s heartsick lament. Lawrence, singing as an adult man, may introduce an ick factor for some listeners, but that’s not what bothers me. I think the entire production – the tempo, the orchestration, and Lawrence’s singing – is atrocious.
Actually, the first two – tempo and orchestration – are merely mundane. It’s casual, generic music. But when Lawrence starts singing, I worry about his health. I suppose he is trying to convey just how emotionally devastated he is by having to say goodbye to the little girl in question. But he comes across as some sort of weird, lumbering dying moose.
And not even a scary, howling dying moose. This moose is dying of indigestion as near as I can tell. In other words, he doesn’t seem devastated – merely queasy. Like, if he really tried singing loud and proud, he might vomit. And it just never gets better. Even on the high part in the chorus, Lawrence remains subdued. Pretty soon, the requisite strings swallow up any momentum the song might have been managing. It’s a mediocre song given a very poor rendering.
1. “MOODY RIVER” – Pat Boone (1961)
I will withhold my personal feelings about Pat Boone and the special hell he occupies in music history. I will simply point out that this is one of the biggest disconnects between content and performance you will find in a popular song. It is one of those tragic songs about a man finding his lover has killed herself (in that moody river). He is recounting what I imagine is a fairly traumatic experience.
And he does it with all the feeling of a contract player singing a jingle for the local pie shop. There is actually nothing even remotely human in the performance. Nothing that touches on the emotion inherent in such a story. Nothing that could possibly disturb a listener.
But if you bother to listen, you will hear an inexplicable shift from first to third person when the body is discovered and things start to get serious. It’s as if Boone simply could not access the human empathy required to continue singing in first person so without warning or explanation, “I looked into the muddy water and what could I see” turns into “tears in his eyes and a prayer on his lips.” But that happy little piano motif continues uninterrupted, which I suppose is all that really matters.