“Rock and Roll Music” by the Beach Boys (1976, #5)

One person’s view:  “Exhibit A in the Mike Love shitification of the Beach Boys.” – RustyJames @ Rate Your Music

The public’s view:  2.41 / 5.00

The Beach Boys’ cover of Chuck Berry’s “Rock and Roll Music” is somewhat catchy and is enjoyable in small doses.  It feels unfair to list it on the Bad Top Ten Hits alongside such bona fide stinkers as “Let Her In” and “Run Joey Run”.  However, this is not a record that you should mention around diehard fans of either the Beach Boys or Chuck Berry.  Unless, that is, you want to hear a tirade about the decline of a legendary music group and the desecration of a classic tune.

The thesis of “Rock and Roll Music” is that rock ‘n’ roll is superior to all other forms of music, particularly for those who wish to dance with the individual who is singing.  This was a bold assertion when Chuck Berry wrote and recorded the song in 1957.  It was his way of jabbing a thumb into the establishment’s eye and challenging the hegemony of the McGuire Sisters and the Les Baxter Orchestra.  But by the time the Beatles unleashed a remake in 1964, “Rock and Roll Music” was no longer controversial.  It was now a triumphant declaration that was impossible to refute.  Rock ‘n’ roll really was the best type of music, and anyone who argued with John Lennon about it was just going to look silly.  Then along came the Beach Boys with their less energetic version in 1976 that undercut the entire premise and suggested that the rock genre was running out of new ideas.  We know today that this was not true, and that highly original rock music continues to be created even in the 21st century (despite Ed Sheeran’s best efforts).  There was no reason for such a prominent band to be throwing in the towel.

“Rock and Roll Music” was the lead single from the Beach Boys’ 15 Big Ones LP.  The music press describes this album as a bigger calamity than the Hindenburg explosion, so naturally I was eager to research the making of it.  I imagined the recording session to be dominated by fistfights, opium binges, ego trips, and random distractions and disasters.  Maybe Carl Wilson let his dogs (the replacements for the late Shannon) run amok in the studio, and they chewed up the master tapes just as the album was nearly completed.  Maybe Dennis Wilson’s former friend Charles Manson kept phoning in from the penitentiary with unhelpful song ideas about how to dispose of a corpse.  Maybe Al Jardine was learning to play the harmonica and threatened to quit the band and sue everyone if he wasn’t allowed to do a bluesy solo on every track.  Sadly, none of that happened.  The album’s deficiencies were mostly the product of simple procrastination, laziness, and lack of direction.  This reminds me of pretty much every project that I worked on in my time as a software engineer.  It’s depressing to learn that the Beach Boys are just as boring as I am.

The absence of an interesting backstory is just part of the disappointment of 15 Big Ones, as the album also suffered from advance marketing hype that was at odds with reality.  The Beach Boys’ label ran ads touting Brian Wilson’s role as the record’s producer, but Brian seemed to regard that as merely a lofty title with few actual responsibilities.  It was like being a nutritionist for Cracker Barrel, or Chief Ethics Officer at Facebook.  Meanwhile, the group kept hinting that they had written dozens of great new songs.  Only a few of these ultimately materialized on the LP.  Those who bought 15 Big Ones felt cheated to hear a bunch of remakes of other musicians’ works, along with some rejected songs from earlier Beach Boys albums.  You know what would have been a hilarious way to troll the fans even more?  If the band had put just 14 tracks on the record.

The 15 Big Ones recording of “Rock and Roll Music” fades out before ever reaching the final verse, but still hits the same two-and-a-half minute runtime as the unabridged versions by Chuck Berry and the Beatles.  The slower tempo is exactly what is not needed on a tune that is supposed to convey the supreme excitement of rock ‘n’ roll.  Les Baxter and the McGuire Sisters were probably laughing their asses off.  But at least the Beach Boys and their label made a lot of money, and that was the one and only point of this whole endeavor.

My rating:  4 / 10

“Let Her In” by John Travolta (1976, #10)

One critic’s view:  “You think Battlefield Earth is the worst product John Travolta ever made?  Well you’re right, but ‘Let Her In’ comes pretty damn close.” – Todd in the Shadows

The public’s view:  1.78 / 5.00

If you’re still young enough to get out of a chair without your bones making loud cracking noises, you probably don’t know about Welcome Back, Kotter and how omnipresent it once was.  I was just starting kindergarten when this TV sitcom debuted, yet even I could recognize the signs of Kottermania all around me.  Vehicles sporting “Kotter for President” bumper stickers drove up and down the highway with the show’s #1 hit theme song blaring out the windows.  Children reused their Gene Shalit costumes from the previous Halloween by trimming an inch from the hair and mustache and going trick-or-treating as Kotter star Gabe Kaplan.  The priest at my church incorporated the show’s signature catchphrase, “Up your nose with a rubber hose!”, into every one of his homilies.  Of all the times to be alive, it was one of the stupidest (aside from 2025).

Kotter revolved around a group of academically impaired high schoolers known as “Sweathogs”.  I enjoyed watching the program each week because it showed me what my educational experience would someday be like.  High school was evidently going to be a world of wisecracks, pranks, and ethnic diversity.  I might even get to finally meet a Jewish person.  At my tender age I never grasped the show’s underlying humorous premise, which was that the Sweathogs had to be given their own classroom because they were in their mid-to-late 20s and were apt to commit statutory rape if allowed to freely mingle with the other students.

Every TV show needs to have a sex symbol who can pose on posters and magazine covers.  The obvious male hottie on Kotter was John Sylvester White, who played Vice Principal Woodman.  However, John Travolta unexpectedly stole the spotlight as Vinnie Barbarino, the leader of the Sweathogs.  Around this time, Travolta went into a recording studio and sang “Let Her In” and nine other tracks for an album.  I assume this was just a vanity project that he intended to give to his mom for Christmas instead of the potholder set that she really wanted.  There was such a demand for Kotter merchandise, though, that the record wound up being released commercially.  With the tailwinds of Kottermania pushing it along, “Let Her In” clambered its way up the charts and into the history books.

This song is a source of great controversy among those who study 1970s pop music.  Some insist that “Let Her In” was a brutal affront to civilized peoples, but that Travolta took singing lessons afterwards and redeemed himself on the Grease soundtrack a couple years later.  Other scholars adamantly disagree.  They argue that “Let Her In” was a brutal affront to civilized peoples, and that Grease only made the crime worse.  As usual when faced with a dispute such as this, I am going to deliver a screed that sidesteps the issue and appeases no one on either side.

First I must acknowledge that Travolta is a national treasure and one of Hollywood’s most beloved stars.  His cinematic magnum opus Look Who’s Talking Too brought mirth and laughter to millions, and he repeated the feat with his portrayal of an angel in Michael.  Therefore, it is my patriotic duty to grant him leniency in my review of “Let Her In”.  Note that I have no patriotic duty toward the song itself, so my chief task here will be to deflect the blame onto others besides Travolta who had a hand in this disaster.  I’m going to pin this mostly on Gary Benson.

Gary Benson is the English singer-songwriter who wrote and originally recorded “Let Her In”.  Don’t cast aspersions on Travolta’s singing until you’ve heard Benson.  His rendition of “Let Her In” is even more insufferable than Travolta’s hit version, though comparing two works of this caliber is like debating whether to drink a gallon of milk that’s five years past expiration or one that’s ten years past.  Benson sings in an insolent high-pitched whine.  Travolta mostly does the same, but slightly more memorably.  His recognizable voice serves him much better at his day job as an actor than it does in music, but in “Let Her In” it at least gives us something to ponder while we frantically reach for the mute button.

Travolta seems to be imitating Benson’s stylings to try to make a very similar record, and unfortunately he succeeds.  He didn’t have enough skill or musical ambition to mold the song into something better.  “Let Her In” was never going to be a work of great artistic merit, but a superior singer like Barry Manilow might have elevated it to the status of a worthy flip side or a throw-away track to donate to an all-star charity album.  It’s remarkable that such a bland composition was ever released as a single, and that it was able to reach the top ten with nothing more than Travolta’s inexperienced vocals to sustain it.

Inspired by his co-star’s unwarranted musical success, Gabe Kaplan put out a single as well:  “Up Your Nose”.  (Remember what I said about it being one of the stupidest times?)  The cast of Welcome Back, Kotter had one consistent message to the record-buying public:  “Up your nose with a rubber hose!  In your ear with a can of beer!”  However, having a can of Stroh’s shoved into your ear hole might not be as bad as listening to “Let Her In”.

My rating:  1 / 10