A common view: “I can remember hearing every #1 song except for this one, but I don’t know how I could ever forget something with such lousy vocals.” – paraphrasing various comments from several websites
The public’s view: 1.34 / 5.00, the worst #1 hit of the 1990s
As I previously told you, I was intrigued by Billboard Magazine and its music charts when I was a child. My obsession caused me to set an overly ambitious and unattainable goal. I believed that, with hard work and good luck and perhaps an unexpected inheritance, I might eventually be able to afford a subscription to the pricey weekly publication. I didn’t know that there was a boy of the same age in New Jersey who shared my infatuation with Billboard, and he had an even more outrageous objective. He vowed that his name would one day appear in the most coveted space in the magazine: the very top slot on the Hot 100. That boy was Tommy Page, and this is his amazing story.
Page had some talent, but not enough by itself to realize his pie-in-the-sky dream. Let’s be honest: he was no Joan Jett or James Ingram. But what he lacked on the talent side, he compensated for with determination. While in college, he worked in a coat room at a New York nightclub that was frequented by music industry decision-makers. Any patron who was employed by a record label was apt to find a Tommy Page demo tape in his coat pocket when he got home. Page did finally get a record deal, and – while chasing his goal of a #1 hit – adapted his musical style to the commercial tastes of the time. This meant that he would have to tour as an opener for New Kids on the Block. It was like selling his soul to the devil, except that the devil probably would have offered him a better percentage of gate receipts and merch.
You know how individuals such as George Martin and Billy Preston were sometimes called the 5th Beatle? After a few months on tour, Tommy Page could be considered the 6th New Kid. This was about as prestigious as being the 5,161st Beatle or the 785th guy in REO Speedwagon, but it fit into his plan perfectly. Writing and recording “I’ll Be Your Everything” with the help of several New Kids was what let him succeed in his quixotic quest. For one magical week in the spring of 1990, he was at #1 on Billboard’s Hot 100 as he had always wanted to be. His success as a singer faltered after that, and “I’ll Be Your Everything” would fade faster than almost any other chart-topper of its time. But the remarkable tale of Tommy Page was not finished: he put the capstone on his career by ultimately becoming the publisher of Billboard! It was an incredible journey from chart enthusiast to chart champion to chart dictator. Meanwhile, the rest of us chart fanatics were auctioning off kidneys so that we could buy an occasional copy of Page’s magazine from a newsstand.
I don’t know of anyone else who pursued their childhood passion as thoroughly as Tommy Page did. Let’s think for a minute about what other young people could accomplish with this level of gumption. We have all met kids who are fascinated with watching things burn. Imagine if one of them starts a massive blaze that destroys a $20 million airplane hangar, and then later becomes the fire chief of Los Angeles County. He would be the Tommy Page of pyromaniacs. Or let’s pretend there’s a science geek who synthesizes a new chemical element called craponium that has an atomic number of 33 1/3. His discovery is quickly forgotten because craponium doesn’t have any practical uses and it smells bad. But then he gets elected president of the American Chemical Society and says, “Ha ha, now the periodic table is mine to do with as I please!” He’s the Tommy Page of scientists.
So let’s talk about Page’s hit song. “I’ll Be Your Everything” currently has the worst Rate Your Music score of any #1 single from the first 56 years of the Hot 100, even though it is not amateurish, grating, insulting, or idiotic like many of the other songs that have been profiled here. However, it is certainly the most forgettable #1 from an era that featured quite a few forgettable chart-toppers. Page’s way-too-syrupy voice is like that of a hypnotist who says “When this record is over, you will remember none of it except for maybe a small part of the chorus. Oh, and by the way, pick up a copy of Billboard next time you are at Waldenbooks.”
The ephemeral nature of “I’ll Be Your Everything” is probably why I didn’t mind listening to it a few times while researching this post. All of the irritation it caused me in 1990 has been lost amid my amnesia for it, and now it’s like a brand new song without the baggage of radio overplay. While I’m probably never going to be part of its target market of 11-year-old girls, I can’t be too angry with my fellow chart nerd Tommy Page for briefly subjecting all of us to it. He was at least nice enough to not have any more top 40 hits after that.
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