Bad Music Sunday Vol. 2

The second of a weekly edition of bad music Sunday where the worst of music is celebrated.


Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart & Sting - All For Love

I remember some serious debate last year on whether or not Sting was the third voice in this trio of movie song magic. We believed, at the time, that even Sting, Mr. Do-Do-Do Da-Da-Da, was above this. Turns out we were wrong.



Boyz II Men - Motown Philly

Maybe this isn't the worst Boyz II Men song, but this video is really strange. Like, why is that one guy on the shitter and reading a paper in the middle of this? I remember this, and especially the other, more ballad kind of Boyz II Men tunes that made the girls swoon. Like that On Bended Knee song...oh, so romantic. This one has a guy on the shitter.



Aerosmith - Pink

The members of Aerosmith are hauntingly unattractive people. They are Garrison Keillor like in their hideous visage. They should sell Aerosmith masks to scare children away from drugs. "Use heroin...and you'll look like this!" then whip out a mask of Steven Tyler. Also, this song makes the daring choice to rhyme very and cherry together in a couplet. Some people may not like Aerosmith, but this has to be the worst thing they've ever done.



Peter Cetera - The Glory of Love

He was too big for Chicago, so he broke away and made this song for Karate Kid II. Also, The Ghost of Nostradamustache, if the world is to look to Karate Kid II in how to solve its world problems...will this then become our global soundtrack?



Bette Midler - The Rose [i had the wrong song here at first, but now it's the right bette tune]

In junior high, I was in the school choir. Also in the choir was this small, portly red-haired girl who perpetually had lipstick on her two front teeth. The lipstick was there so often, I thought it was some kind of tooth deformity. Her name was Stacy. She was a nice person, and I got along with her fine, but she couldn't hold a thought in her head for very long...and once, in high school, she tried to get into her car but failed...she instead opened the door into her forehead with such force it knocked her out, gave her a concussion, and needed stitches for the wound on her head. That's a true story. Anyway, she could really sing. And this was her signature song. I bet I heard Stacy sing this thing, oh, fifty times or more while I stood in the boys section of the choir, being teased by a kid named Kelly Huckleberry and others about the part in my hair and other things that made me a target. I hate this fucking song.




Next week for Bad Music Sunday...shitty cover songs.



viva el mustache