Signs Your Song Might Suck...

We don’t always recognize “suck” right away. In 1979, for example, I remember when The Knack burst onto the scene. In a pop music landscape over-run by disco, MOR rock, ballads and other soft-headed offerings, “My Sharona” was fucking amazing. I remember getting chills up my spine when the opening drum beat blasted through my orange transistor radio. It sounded alive, raw, animalistic – everything radio wasn’t at the time. People Magazine compared them to early Led Zeppelin – everyone else thought they were the next coming of the Beatles.

And then we heard the phrase “m-m-m-my Sharona” for the one millionth time and that was it – what had been great now sucked. There has never been a backlash like Knack backlash – their pop stardom was over before it began. By the time their second album, But the Little Girls Understand, and its’ “Sharona” knock-off single “Baby Talks Dirty” (that’s right – they were ripping themselves off by the second record) The Knack were a rock-and-roll laughingstock.

Over-saturation can sully any pop song, but there are other tell-tale signs that your song might suck:

* What’s In a Name – Suck can begin early, right at the title. You can’t possibly call your song “Muskrat Love” and expect greatness. Other doomed-from-the-title songs include “I Wanna Sex You Up,” “Disco Duck,” and “Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm.”

* Surf’s Up on Premise Beach – Yes, you may like big butts and are unable or unwilling to lie about it; yes, your milkshake might have the ability to bring boys into your yard; and yes, somebody perhaps left your cake out in the rain at MacArthur Park – but that doesn’t mean we have to spend three-and-a-half minutes (or in the case of “MacArthur Park,” an eternity) hearing about it.

* Repeating Repetitive Repetitions – Hammering a title or phrase into a listener’s head will plant it in their brain, but they’ll resent ya for it. If I can go the rest of my life without hearing the words “love shack” or “I’m too sexy” I’ll be just fine. Also -- the following artists need to retire these words:

Paul McCartney -- love

Prince -- sexy

Liz Phair -- any references to oral sex (it's a wonderful crutch)

Black Eyed Peas -- humps and/or lumps

T-Pain -- shawty

James Blunt -- beautiful

Robert Plant -- baby

Britney Spears -- baby (sounds like this might be done by court order)

Snoop Dogg -- Snoop Dogg (no spelling it either)

* Longer Ain’t Better – All those fine folk who died during the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald had one thing going for them: they didn’t have to listen to Gordon Lightfoot drone on and on about it. Same goes with Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Richie Valens – sure they died young, but they died without having to sit through “American Pie.” Speaking of which…

* You’re Depressing Me – What’s with the death songs? In addition the songs mentioned above, we’d like to add the countless teen death songs of the 50s and 60s (“Last Kiss,” “Teen Angel”) the “I-hate-myself-and-want-to-die” angst songs (“At Seventeen,” the current emo crop) etc. Isn’t rock supposed to be fun?

* Lyrical Inanity – If you’re not going to bother having your lyrics make sense, do what they did in the 1950s: make up nonsensical “shimmy shimmy ko ko pop” words. That way, we don’t have to puzzle over gems like “Torn between the pages and were pressed like love’s hot fevered iron on a stri-ped pair of pants” ("MacArthur Park") or “New Kids on the Block had a bunch of hits/Chinese food makes me sick” ("Summer Girls"). Bonus points for songs that are lists ("We Didn't Start the Fire") and songs that are unintelligible ("Informer" -- a licky boom boom down, indeed.)

* Hands Solo – If your guitar solo or drum solo or (heaven forbid) bass solo is longer than the rest of the song, you’re no longer rocking – you’re masturbating.

Any rules that I missed?