One person’s view: “There’s something inherently cringeworthy about a song that glorifies infidelity.” – Joe @ ILoveClassicRock
The public’s view: 2.22 / 5.00
What do you think is the snobbiest and most elitist organization in the universe? It might be the British royalty. Ideally, anyone would be allowed a shot at a position as duke or king or viscount. Simply take a few community college courses in Banquet Manners, Public Family Squabbles, and Recreational Equine Usage, and then do an internship and pass a licensing exam. Boom, now you’re the Princess of Sheffield! In reality, however, you have to get past the toffee-nosed gatekeepers in Buckingham Palace’s HR department, and it winds up being all about who you know rather than what you know. It’s nearly as difficult as becoming a member of Augusta National.
Radio station executive John Rook thought that one institution was even snootier than the Royal Family: the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. The Hall portrayed its secretive selection process as the authoritative umpire of musical quality, yet so many legends of the rock genre were overlooked. Why weren’t Rook’s friends Pat Boone and Connie Francis in the Hall? Where were Marie Osmond and Tony Orlando? And how, for the love of God, can you call yourself a Rock & Roll Hall of Fame if you haven’t made room for Perry Como?
It was unsurprising that the Rock Hall didn’t reflect popular tastes, as it was controlled by a shadowy cabal of critics, industry execs, and weird leftist musicians like that dude with the bandana from Springsteen’s band. But John Rook did more than just complain about the situation. He formed a rival institution, called the Hit Parade Hall of Fame, that was designed to appeal to mainstream music fans. It was overseen by a committee of discerning tastemakers such as disc jockey Rick Dees, game show host Wink Martindale, and radio programmer Scott Shannon. On the one hand, these were wild, uninhibited hellions who could probably recite the Carpenters’ entire discography from memory. On the other, they were also folks who your grandmother would trust as spokesmen for term life insurance or adult diapers. You couldn’t have asked for a more suitable panel for this purpose.
The Hit Parade Hall of Fame announced its first class of inductees in 2007, and John Rook must have been pleased to see Paul Anka among them. As one of the biggest stars of pre-Beatles rock and roll to have been snubbed by the Rock Hall, Anka is exactly the type of entertainer who the Hit Parade Hall was designed for. To be fair, however, the singer-songwriter didn’t do his legacy any favors during his 1970s comeback. Aside from the legendarily awkward #1 hit “(You’re) Having My Baby”, he generated three other top ten singles in the ‘70s that are all viable contenders for the Bad Top Ten Hits blog. After consulting with Rick Dees, Scott Shannon, and (via Ouija board) Wink Martindale, I’ve determined that the song we shall discuss here is “One Man Woman / One Woman Man”.
The chief complaint against “One Man Woman” is that it continues the misogyny and overall dickishness that were on display in “Having My Baby”. It’s a song about a dude getting caught cheating on his wife – again. She forgives him – again. The faithless husband then declares that he has turned over a new leaf and is now a “one woman man”. It is an unconvincing transformation, as the guy has never suffered any consequences for his misdeeds and has no incentive to change. It would be more believable for a chronic overeater to vow to become a “one cheesecake man” while enduring an intense bout of indigestion following a dessert binge.
Although I can’t defend the lyrics of “One Man Woman”, I don’t hate the song. It has a pleasant melody and the vocals are decent, especially Odia Coates’s performance as the woman who has put up with more horseshit than a stable hand at Churchill Downs. I also like that Anka rhymes “sorry” with “story”, as Canadians are wont to do. It’s a rare reminder that he grew up on the stinking streets of Ottawa and came to this country as a migrant without a farthing to his name. The ICE agents who are grabbing Canadians out of Home Depot parking lots and sending them back to El Salvador might very well be costing us the next Paul Anka.
I wish I could close out this entry by giving you directions to the Hit Parade Hall of Fame so that you can see Anka’s exhibit in all of its glory. Unfortunately, I can find no evidence that the Hall has yet been built. And after the Class of 2015, which included such timeless rock and roll favorites as Charlie Rich, Air Supply, and the Captain & Tennille, no additional musicians have been inducted. If there is ever a hall of fame for halls of fame, it is quite likely that the Hit Parade Hall will fail to make the cut. Chalk up another win for the evil forces of elitism.
My rating: 5 / 10
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