One AI’s view: “The term ‘cheesy’ is often used to describe Bobby Vinton’s music. It refers to the sentimental and sometimes overly romantic quality of his ballads. While some listeners appreciate this nostalgic charm, others may find it a bit excessive.” – Bing Copilot with GPT-4
The public’s view: 2.47 / 5.00, the worst #1 hit of 1962 to 1965
Americans weren’t just celebrating John Glenn’s orbit in 1962. They were also rejoicing in the start of an extended period lasting through 1965 in which no truly terrible songs topped the Hot 100. Sure, each of us as individuals could find a few songs to hate from that time frame, but there are no consensus picks as to the worst #1 records. The closest we have is “Roses Are Red”, whose Rate Your Music score was very low for its time but would be considered average today. And that mirrors the critics’ view of Bobby Vinton as well: he was so mediocre that he was even mediocre at being bad.
But that’s not giving Vinton enough credit. He is one of very few musical artists who has mastered the art of time travel, building an extraordinarily successful career on the notion that many people do not easily part with the ways of the past. As someone who still has a 30-year-old cathode ray tube TV sitting in his living room, I find that to be admirable. Vinton ventured so far into the realm of the uncool that he can actually be considered cool for it. Yet, other than a brief moment in 1986 when his song “Blue Velvet” was used in a movie, there has never been any kind of revival of his music. Just like Lawrence Welk, who I wrote about previously, Vinton has been mostly forgotten.
Vinton’s career appeared to be washed up by the time he was 26, as he was still performing big band music at a time in which big bands had become passé. In 1962 his record label informed him that his deal would not be renewed. He reinvented himself on the spot, but not as a 1960s rock ‘n’ roller: he would be the next Bing Crosby. I can just imagine the exasperated sighs that were emitted by the label’s executives when Vinton announced this plan. His contract still had a few records left to run, however, so the label had little choice but to go along. Vinton discovered “Roses Are Red” in a pile of discarded submissions from songwriters, and you know what happened after that. A rejected song, recorded by a rejected singer, hit #1 and put Vinton on the path to superstardom. He became one of the top performers of the decade. (One ranking based on the Billboard charts places him at #11 for the 1960s – two notches ahead of the Rolling Stones.)
Bobby Vinton epitomizes a vocal style known as “crooning”. Based on a few black-and-white clips that survive from the post-war era, I have concluded that crooning was once the dominant form of communication in America. Anyone who failed to take appropriate precautions when leaving their house in the 1940s or 1950s was at risk of being crooned at. But how do you define crooning? While musicologists could give a better explanation, I hear it as a vocal style that puts the emphasis on the words and melody rather than on the instruments or on any histrionics performed by the singer. It’s fine to put some emotion into a croon, particularly if that emotion is sadness, but excessive melisma is discouraged. Women can croon, if absolutely necessary, but men had better not sound like women while they are crooning. Most importantly, a good croon never needs to be accompanied by a lyric sheet. You can understand every word of Vinton’s croons, which is not necessarily desirable when it comes to “Roses Are Red”.
Some modern male singers are occasionally accused of crooning, but most have little in common with Vinton or with 1950s crooners like Dean Martin and Nat King Cole. I call these newer performers anti-crooners. For an example, listen to Edwin McCain’s 1998 hit “I’ll Be”. Or, as McCain sings it, “Owwwwwwlllllll Beeeeeee”. In McCainland, the word “love” can have six or seven syllables. If anyone had yodeled a romantic ballad like this in 1954, he’d be locked up for the aggravated murder of vowels. Edwin McCain is not a true crooner.
Historians look unkindly on Bobby Vinton because he adopted an outdated musical style which most people were already sick of, and then almost single-handedly kept it on the radio for another few years. He even outlasted the Beatles, notching his last top 10 hit in 1974 with “My Melody of Love”. This last record was made to sound like an old Polish folk song, so once again Vinton managed to successfully revive a format from another era. What else does he have up his sleeve? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s getting ready to put out a disco album.
By most critical and popular metrics, “Roses Are Red” is the lowest regarded of Vinton’s four #1 hits. I think that’s fair. Its wistful lyrics of lost teenage love are tinged with sadness, but they are not sad enough to make anyone cry. Mostly they just make the listener uncomfortable and slightly nauseous. I bet that a lot of push buttons on car radios were worn out in 1962 by people hurriedly changing the station whenever this record started up.
Although “Roses Are Red” is debatably among the worst #1 songs of the early 1960s, no sane person ever argues that it is the worst #1 song of all time. I can’t say the same for the next hit that will be discussed here.
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