recently made a list of the worst 50 artists in music history. An excerpts follows below. We would like to know your thoughts on the Blender's list, so feel free to share your opinion in the comments section.
Goo Goo Dolls
Buffalo, New York's Goo Goo Dolls are former garage-rockers who, since their 1995 acoustic hit "Name," have successfully flogged a pallid brand of Bon Jovilite "rock." "Iris," their smash 1998 weepie, gives power ballads a bad name.
Worst CD: Gutterflower (Warner Bros., 2002)
An American answer to Judas Priest and Iron Maiden, Rochester, New York's Manowar embody every conceivable heavy-metal cliche: Bodybuilders all, the four wear leather and animal pelts onstage; singer Eric Adams shrieks only of death, warfare and the glory of metal; Joey DeMaio performs solo bass renditions of "The Flight of the Bumblebee." They're quite possibly the most ludicrous people in rock & roll history.
Appalling fact - in 1993, Russian youth voted Manowar above the Beatles and Michael Jackson as the act they would most like to see perform live.
Worst CD: Sign Of The Hammer (EMI, 1985)
Led by exDeep Purple frontman David Coverdale, Whitesnake's '80s success with their karaoke Led Zeppelin routine can be explained only by the public's enduring love for the double entendre, as exemplified on such songs as "Slide It In," "Slow Poke Music" and "Spit It Out."
Worst CD: Slip Of The Tongue (Geffen, 1989)
Led by Axl Rose's mewling, drug-plagued pal Shannon Hoon, Blind Melon's lightweight rock would have been forgotten completely were it not for the boundless charm of "Bee Girl" Heather DeLoach, whose hoofing in the video for No Rain made the tune the band's lone hit.
Worst CD: Soup (Capitol, 1995)
While in college, many young men still choose to immerse themselves in such ill-advised subjects as Nietzsche, black magic and Native American folklore. Most get over it; Jim Morrison, unfortunately, inflicted his terminally adolescent views on the wider world. The consequences included overblown screeds of nonsense such as "The End" and "The Crystal Ship," plus, effectively, the invention of goth.
Worst CD: The Soft Parade (Elektra, 1969)
It's doubtful there's a more irritating sight in videodom than Creed's Scott Stapp pulling one of his crucifixion poses while a wind machine blows his hair in the appropriate direction. But the Florida group's real crime is its music, an overblown distillation of grunge's most obviously commercial elements every inch as vapid as the music Nirvana and company were rebelling against.
Worst CD: Weathered (Wind-Up, 2001)
Perhaps the most tune-free act ever to chart an album in the Top 10 (Pork Soda hit number 7 in 1993), Oakland, California's Primus were led by Les Claypool, a bass virtuoso and startlingly nasal vocalist. Musicians and the terminally nerdy gaped in wide wonder at the trio's prodigious instrumental "chops"; everyone else was repulsed by the band's combination of the worst aspects of Frank Zappa and Rush.
Worst CD: Pork Soda (Interscope, 1993)
The Alan Parsons Project
Having conquered the Dark Side of the Moon, EMI Records' beardy staff engineer Alan Parsons decided that what the universe really needed was a prog-rock concept album based on the work of nineteenth-century horror novelist Edgar Allan Poe, narrated by Orson Welles. It didn't, of course, but an undeterred Parsons soldiered on, swapping prog-rock for vapid AOR in the '80s. Finally bundled off to play guitar in Ringo Starr's backing band, he was never seen again.
Worst CD: Pyramid (Arista, 1978)
With his passion for the music of Deep Purple's Ritchie Blackmore, Swedish guitar show-off Yngwie Malmsteen co-opted his hero's deadpan demeanor, neoclassical solos and frilly cuffs. Yet Malmsteen never employed a proper songwriter, and his noodling hard rock sometimes augmented by a full orchestra has scored increasingly minuscule returns. Appalling fact Malmsteen's 1983 show at London's Marquee club sold out in minutes because of unsuspecting Bruce Springsteen fans who thought they were attending a secret gig by the Boss.
Worst CD: Concerto For Electric Guitar And Orchestra (Ranch Life, 1999)
Given the roll call of A-list rockers who have appeared on the Stones frontman's four solo ventures, even a tone-deaf 6-year-old could have produced something you'd want to hear twice, or at least once. Alas, it seems, there's never a tone-deaf 6-year-old around when you need one. Even on 1993's not-entirely-grim Wandering Spirit, produced by Rick Rubin, Jagger does his damnedest to ruin things by inexplicably singing a sea shanty. That's right a sea shanty!
Worst CD: Goddess in the Doorway (Virgin, 2001)
In 1989, having presumably become bored with excelling at pop, glam-rock and funk, chameleon David Bowie decided to demonstrate that he too could be really, really bad. The vehicle for this unlikely ambition was the plodding rock four-piece Tin Machine, whose two critically mauled studio albums and one "hilariously" titled live document (Oy Vey, Baby) found Bowie voluntarily subsuming his genius beneath chorus-free tunes and guitarist Reeves Gabrels's habit of playing his instrument with a vibrator.
Worst CD: Oy Vey, Baby (Victory, 1991)
Asia's music turned out to be exactly the sum of its parts: former technicians from King Crimson, Emerson, Lake & Palmer and Yes who got together with an erstwhile Buggle at the start of the '80s. It promised the most self-important prog-rock melded with the limp-wristed worst of AOR, and it delivered. The band's self-titled debut sold more than 4 million copies, which only encouraged them.
Worst CD: Astra (Geffen, 1985)
Their folksy 1977 hit "Dust In The Wind," a tractor-size fiddle player and a guitarist in bib overalls suggested pioneer-spirited rural rockers. The truth was far more sinister. Bereft of sex and emotion, Kansas's music was a noxious fusion of Jethro Tull and Yes, appealing only to male sci-fi bores and guaranteed to drive any self-respecting frontiersman headlong into the nearest bear trap.
Worst CD: Point of Know Return (Columbia, 1977)
In 1985, Starship rose like a phoenix from the ashes of once-mighty psychedelic overlords Jefferson Airplane/Starship but only if, by phoenix, you mean "ultra-lame, MTV-pandering purveyors of MOR schlock." Best remembered for "We Built This City," they were also responsible for unleashing the Diane Warrenpenned "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now," a song bad enough to appear on the soundtrack of the diabolical Andrew McCarthy "comedy" Mannequin. And its sequel!
Worst CD: Love Among The Cannibals (RCA, 1989)
Emerson, Lake & Palmer
"Boasting" former members of the Nice, King Crimson and yes! Atomic Rooster, the less-than-super '70s supergroup ELP shunned blues-based rock in favor of bombastically reinterpreted classical works with bewilderingly successful results. A nightmarish enough proposition on record, the Brit trio's live shows were peppered by interminable solo spots, including a 20-minute drum workout by Carl Palmer that ended with him ringing a cowbell held between his teeth.
Worst CD: Love Beach (Rhino, 1978)
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