SEVEN #2: seven astoundingly shit songs

that aren't "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars

There are many ways to skin a cat, and perhaps even more ways to elicit horrendous noise from them. You can strangle a cat, whack a sackful of cats against a brick wall, or blast St. Anger at a clowder of kittens until they gargle blood. In some cases, the resulting sounds—unpleasant as they may be—will be preferable to actual art produced by real people, several (seven!) of which shall be expounded upon right here, immediately.

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Puddle Of Mudd - “Control”

from Come Clean (2001)

Hot on the heels of a commercially unsuccessful debut record that evaporated Puddle of Mudd down to just Wes Scantlin, one has to wonder whether the opening track on their breakthrough album is a representation of the rockstar sex life that old mate Wes was somehow actually living, or an attempt to manifest a future for himself that might contain some filthy rendezvouses. “The dirty things” that his partner in filth engages in are limited to light bondage, a (metaphorical?) cage, and a lot of spanking. That’s the whole hotdog here, and Scantlin’s major focus is on getting his glutes clapped. Godspeed to the lad; I hope he eventually met somebody to whom he could repeatedly confide “I love the way you smack my ass” without the need to hide behind a masculine veil of numetal gain-ridden guitars and vintage butt rock vocal gravel tailormade to soundtrack a wrestling video game. Can you imagine being in the studio as the vocal takes ran into the double digits? Can you imagine being there for the motherfucking acoustic rendition that followed? It’s almost too entertaining to be considered Astoundingly Shit, and yet “Control”’s credentials as such can and will not be argued.

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Cher - “Half-Breed”

from Half-Breed (1973)

Somebody in Cher’s PR firm must be a certified Wikipedia Editor. While the page for “Half-Breed” daringly unpacks some flaws in the song’s narrative (the Cherokee are obviously matrilineal, ya dingus!), and even admits to a smattering of cultural appropriation (which Cher readily apologised for when Cancel Culture threatened to kill her dog in 2017, promising to quit performing it before having a senior moment in 2018 and performing it again), what the article mysteriously neglects to detail is that this number one hit was accompanied by the false claim from Cher Inc. that she had 1/16th Cherokee heritage. Now I’m not here to pass judgment upon Cher for performing a song written by somebody else and pushed upon her by her label in 1973—the cynic in me is sure that it was on account of a marketable “exoticism” she possessed—and some serious credit is due both Cher and the horse she sits astraddle in the official video for a faultless performance in minutes-long static discomfort, but boy oh boy does this number one hit make me chuckle.

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Flea - “A Plea”

from Honora (unreleased, due 2026)

By all accounts, Flea seems to be a far more decent guy than that bloke who confessed to some heinous behaviour in a book called Scar Tissue while also pronouncing that he has absolutely no regrets (must be nice!), and we can uncontroversially declare that he’s also a far better musician. “A Plea” finds Flea leaning into his jazzier tendencies in a longform track which is eventually intruded upon by a Peace and Love diatribe for the Times We Live In that, despite its praiseworthy intentions, renders this exploratory track and fantastic music video utterly useless and somewhat hilarious. Maybe he should find himself a vocalist? I kid, I kid. We know where that track leads.

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Linkin Park - “Wretches and Kings”

from A Thousands [sic, see thumbnail] Suns (2010)

Beginning and ending with a sample of Mario Savio’s famous Sproul Hall Sit-In Address, this politically-charged track from Linkin Park heralds its chorus with a mechanised drum fill for the ages, setting the stage for Chester Bennington to modify his signature pitched screams with what appears to be a soft patois, a bold choice to make as a white man referencing a specific moment in the civil rights movement, even if Savio’s speech still resonates outside of its historical context. Bennington is not the first artist to adopt this accent (check this track for an introductory list), and you’re actually spoiled for choice if you want to hear another member of the group in question have a crack at it, but the heavy-handed presentation wins the day here.

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Lana Del Rey - White Dress

from Chemtrails Over the Country Club (2021)

The image below demonstrates what we in the unpaid music journalism racket call a Genius Annotation of a single line that is fiercely whispered in the chorus of “White Dress”:

Riiiiiiiiiiightrightrightokaycoolyuhp. This track opened a wet fart of a Jack Antonoff production that had all kinds of major publications either hedging their bets on these generational talents or doubling down on how well the empress suited her new clothing. It’s been a tough decade, hasn’t it?

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Metallica - Frantic

from St. Anger (2003)

Metallica’s “Saint Anger” album debuted at #1 in 30 countries during its first week of release.

Thus reads the title card that brings “Some Kind of Monster” (2004)—perhaps the most unintentionally hilarious documentary ever made—to a close. Poor taste at such scale was undoubtedly an early sign of democracy’s slow demise.

Sometimes when I’m a little bit sad I like to picture Hetfield in a Hot Rod or doing whatever he’s doing at around 1:12 in the official music video for this doozy of a dud of a song, and it makes everything just a little more bearable. Thanks, Metallica.

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Steely Dan - Dirty Work

from Can’t Buy A Thrill (1972)

Keep your battleyachts moored, this is not a serious addition. Steely Dan released seven albums before taking their first hiatus and therefore occupy a substantial plinth on the sevenly pantheon.

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Kid Rock ft. Monster Truck - “Don’t Tell Me How To Live”

from Bad Reputation (2021)

Try as I might to maintain a pleasant atmosphere in this post where we laugh at well-intentioned artists completely shitting the bed, some music from the spectrum that ranges from delusional MAGA hacks to actual neo-nazis begged representation on this list, and Kid Rock was a soft-end inevitability. I can’t sell this any better than it sells itself in all-caps; if the third iteration of “AIN’T NOBODY GONNA TELL ME HOW TO LIVE” doesn’t have you reeling I don’t know what will.

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And so it comes to pass that we have SEVENED a second time! We learned last week that the number we hold so sacred can bestow divinity upon any artist’s creations — the lesson this week is perhaps that even awful music can be quite entertaining when limited to a commonsensical number of tracks in a row. Seven, even.

SEVEN will be back next week — will you? Fork over your email or we’ll place a pox upon your seven closest friends.