Songs We Like By Artists We Don’t

I didn’t like “Livin’ on a Prayer” in 1986. I didn’t like “Wanted Dead or Alive” in 1987, recognizing it as, among other things, a rewrite of a song (Bob Seger’s “Turn the Page”) that really didn’t need updating. Working in Classic Hits radio, this has been an annoyance, since both of those Bon Jovi hits, along with “You Give Love a Bad Name,” are among the unavoidable records of the format.

But I love “Bad Medicine,” a Bon Jovi song that disappeared from the radio and has only recently resurfaced. I like some lesser known Bon Jovi—“Edge of a Broken Heart” and “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead”—that also have a surprising element of ‘70s bubblegum. In general, I like Bon Jovi more when they’re channeling the Sweet vs. Seger or Bruce Springsteen.

I was never as popular in the Central New Jersey offices of Edison Research as when I brought in a project on behalf of Bon Jovi in the mid-‘00s. Those 20 years in music research also taught me that it is my job to be outvoted by the audience, and “Livin’ on a Prayer” is probably the most obvious example. Plus, I’ve recently come to at least recognize that song and Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” as songs of resolve in discouraging times, even if I can’t enjoy hearing them yet again.

In general, I’ve come to understand that what music I like and don’t like is my problem, not yours. Both the Saturday morning Twitter thread on American Top 40 and the responses I’ve gotten to my Lost Factor series have taught me that there is somebody out there to defend any hit. And how did they get to be hits in the first place if nobody liked them?

I had to dig pretty deep into the list of top artists to find an act that might qualify as “lots of hits and none I like.” Even when I went back to the acts of the late ‘50s/early ‘60s whose hits were before my time and whose MOR-ish sound wasn’t one I grew up with, I could still find a random rocking Connie Francis or Andy Williams, and at holiday time, a lot of people like Andy Williams. Air Supply’s first seven hits pretty well typify what I disliked about 1980-82, but I like “Making Love Out of Nothing at All.” I have my “go figure” records. Most people do.

But when I asked readers on social media if there was a major artist whose string of hits didn’t include at least one song that they liked, Bon Jovi was the top response, followed by Drake, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Maroon 5. It had recently occurred to me that there were very few artists that I could say that about, and none of those acts make that list either. 

I understand what those acts doing on your list, though. They’ve all been prolific, inescapable hitmakers in this decade, and they’re all emblematic of their genres. Red Hot Chili Peppers have had the burden of being the superstar rock band through guitar rock’s travails. Drake had to prop up Hip-Hop (or at least Hip-Hop radio) seemingly single-handedly for several years, and on many stations you can still hear him more than once an hour. Maroon 5 was the pop/rock band that was most successful in the “turbo-pop” era of the early ‘10s, in part because their sound changed to accommodate it. 

A lot of the songs I like by the artists you don’t are not their biggest crowd-pleasers. Bon Jovi is the best example of “Sean Ross vs. the World,” but the Red Hot Chili Peppers song I’d probably listen to first is “Snow (Hey Oh),” one of the most polarizing RHCP hits. With Drake, on the other hand, I tend to gravitate to the biggest, most mass-appeal songs (“Hold On We’re Going Home,” “Take Care,” “Hotline Bling,” etc.) 

I have a lot of contrarianism with other acts as well. My favorite Led Zeppelin song is “Living Loving Maid,” the one that never tests, and only gets played because of the “Hearbreaker” medley. A few readers disliked everything by Styx. I like one of their hits (“Renegade”) but also “Music Time,” an obscurity from the end of their hitmaking streak in which, among other things, the band seems to be mocking its fans. I liked “Another Brick in the Wall” well enough before it became unavoidable, but the Pink Floyd songs I’d seek out now are early hits (“See Emily Play”) and obscurities (“Bike”).

In general, the acts that readers tended to dislike fell into a few categories: ‘70s/’80s corporate rock, ‘80s hair (really, corporate rock’s successor), today’s big acts—usually on the other side of a generational split (not just Drake, but a few mentions of Justin Bieber and Ariana Grande as well). The Atlantic’s Tom Nichols has a running joke on the Saturday #AT40 Twitter thread about liking Boston better than Led Zeppelin, but those are two separate Classic Rock camps and pop music goes through half a dozen phases (at least) afterwards. Whatever group you’re in, there’s a major act to mock from the others.

There were also a few votes for those acts that often divide critics and music research respondents (Bob Dylan, Steely Dan, Coldplay) or beloved-but-polarizing acts with huge concert followings from Jimmy Buffett to the Dave Matthews Band.

Almost every big act of the last 40 years got a mention or two, including some broadly likable ones—Fleetwood Mac, Aerosmith, Rolling Stones, Dire Straits, Prince. There wasn’t as much pop-bashing as I expected. I was surprised that nobody mentioned Abba, a band that might be my all-time favorite at the moment, but which I spent years girding to defend. There was a mention of the Bee Gees. Also, Hot Chocolate, which SiriusXM’s Dave Hoeffel doubly dissed by noting that they barely had enough hits to qualify. (In the UK, they did, and I like most of them.)

The discussion here was very much meant to be music only. The music-you-like-by-artists-you-can’t debate rages more fiercely than ever, but that’s a different article. And there are a lot of artists who seem like good people whose music I am generally indifferent to.

So far, I can only find one artist who doesn’t have a single record I like, and that one is the now obscure mid-‘60s hitmaker Ronnie Dove, whose niche at the time was sounding like an early ‘60s artist. But maybe a reader will find an exception for me. There are others—Dave Matthews Band, Anita Baker—who never excite me, but who have songs that I can sit through without complaint. In general, finding something to like from most acts is one of the perks of record collecting and a life in music.