Chart-Topping Love Songs That Rock Fans Actually Hate

Come on, rock fans: We know you love certain pop songs. "Toxic" by Britney Spears? Total banger. Maybe some old-school NSYNC? Try to deny you bumped it back in the day. How about a cheeky little Celine Dion love song cryfest? Whoa, whoa — that's a bridge too far. Rock fans might tolerate, like, or even love certain non-rock or pop tracks. Others, though? They're on the hate list, especially love songs.

In general, it stands to reason that rock lovers hate love songs that run counter to the core ethos of rock: authenticity, rebelliousness, individuality, etc. Out of those adjectives, authenticity is key when it comes to the type of gushy emotions typically expressed in love songs. Forced feelings or schmaltz are the bane of rock's existence, the same as tracks that are too preening, whiny, or pathetic. Swooning, emotionally incontinent musical stylings or boppy, irritating musical stylings ought to annoy the ears of rock listeners, too. This is especially true if an artist or band has the appearance of a "rock" outfit or, in fact, is a rock outfit while writing a love song that's not at all rock. Such tracks will be high on our list since they'd upset rock fans the most. 

And of course, we're only targeting songs that hit No. 1 on the Billboard charts. On that note, we've got the most annoying and played-out rock ballad ever by '70s rockers Aerosmith, as well as Foreigner's first big hit and even some less obvious choices like tracks from Ed Sheeran, Michael Bolton, and yacht rock duo Captain & Tennille. Here are five chart-topping love songs that rock fans actually hate.

Say the words "soft rock" to rock fans, and some of them are bound to sneer and retort, "That's not rock!" Indeed, fan, indeed. So it is that Foreigner filled the needs of the ballad-loving public — even to this day, as the group has almost 19 million monthly listeners on Spotify — while raising the hackles of rocksters everywhere. This is especially the case with Foreigner's massive 1984 hit, "I Want to Know What Love Is," which reached No. 1 on the Billboard charts. 

Like a lot of other bands, Foreigner waited years for a No. 1 hit, no matter how successful the group was overall. Formed in the '70s, the band always operated on the lighter side of rock but was still clearly rock — take "Feels Like the First Time" from their self-titled 1977 debut as an example. But by the time we reached 1984's "Agent Provocateur," the band had moved squarely into an '80s synth-rock sound. And with "I Want to Know What Love Is," Foreigner left its roots behind and produced a track that doesn't even sound like it comes from a rock band at all.

That doesn't mean that rock fans dislike "I Want to Know What Love Is" simply because Foreigner did something different. They dislike the song because it's melodramatic, weepy, and stuffed with forced feelings. Foreigner took the soft rock ballad schtick too close to heart and got so soft that the group shaved whatever dull edge they had to nothing. What remains is a limp lump of a song, like a soaked cotton wad, without a single bit of oomph.

This is almost too easy of a choice. Not only will rock lovers hate Captain & Tennille's 1975 hit "Love Will Keep Us Together," but lots of others might feel the same. Shallow when it's not artificial, this song is vapid, contrived, blatantly emotionally insincere, and annoying in composition and tone, right down to the strained smile on Toni Tennille's face as she sings in the song's music video: "Love Will Keep Us Together" is trash. Moreover, it's garbage that rock fans would love to ignite with the white-hot flames of a shredded guitar if only to hear the song squeal an agonized death.

Too harsh? Sure, if you're into bright, neat, and mannerly "yacht rock" — a musical genre with a bizarre history that ought to make the hairs on the back of any rock fan's neck rise. "Love Will Keep Us Together" might have done exactly this back in 1975 when it reached No. 1 on the Billboard charts and stayed there for four weeks. This was the debut single from the musical married couple Daryl Dragon and Toni Tennille, and it was a cover. Neil Sedaka released the original just two years earlier, in 1973, and Captain & Tennille's label recommended that they rework it for the group's debut.

In the end, rock fans might be able to give a pass to the song's unimaginative lyrics ("Look in my heart / And let love keep us together") and cringe presentation (yachting cap included), if not for the hokiness of its sound. Both Dragon and Tennille toured with The Beach Boys, and judging by their music, they mostly walked away with the worst, silliest, and most twee elements of yacht rock's surfing-obsessed proto-band.  

Sorry, Ed. We might have had a good relationship if you used that guitar for more than the mushiest of commercial flotsam. Actually, in "Shape of You," you didn't even pick up your guitar once, did you? At least "Perfect" has some fingerpicking, but "Shape of You" is two steps removed from toleration. It's got that irritating "boink boink" percussive sound, some kind of affected lilt on the vocals, and sounds like it was drafted from the ground up to be an overly catchy hit. It just generally feels phony. Lots of folks obviously disagree with this opinion, as the song has over 4.7 billion listens on Spotify and the music video has over 6.6 billion views on YouTube. But ah well. True rockers know better.

"Shape of You" not only reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 — it stayed in the Top 10 for 32 weeks in 2017. It's also placed right before another colossal hit we already mentioned, "Perfect," on the tracklist of Sheeran's "÷ (Divide)," the album that came after 2014's "X" and its megahit, "Thinking Out Loud." That last song gets a pass because it's a clear singer-songwriter affair written for one guitar with lyrics that come across as genuine because they don't deteriorate into cliches like, "Girl, you know I want your love / Your love was handmade for somebody like me." That last line comes from "Shape of You."

All in all, "Shape of You" is Sheeran pushed to commercial oblivion, the kind that annoys rock fans not into sellout frippery. The song's also instrumentally empty, aside from its overemphasis on percussive layering. Just stick to acoustic picky-slappy strums, and we'll be all good, Ed.

It's time to revisit a song that was so played out back when it stuffed every single radio station at all hours that we'll never get over the trauma. We'll also never get over the mawkish sentimentality, obligatory background strings (because strings make you feel things, don't ya know?), and cornball vibe. Yes, we're talking about "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith, the least rocky song by a rock band going back to its 1973 self-titled debut. It was also the band's first Billboard No. 1 hit, because of course.

"I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" is forever linked to the 1998 movie "Armageddon," featuring Bruce Willis, Ben Affleck, and friends saving the world from an asteroid through the power of explosions, grit, plot contrivances, and Liv Tyler's love (that's Aerosmith singer Steven Tyler's daughter). The song was made famous by the movie as much as it helped make the movie famous, and it's supposed to describe the movie's Affleck-Tyler girlfriend-boyfriend relationship. 

In other words, "Armageddon" was a movie for the masses if there ever was one, just like its Aerosmith-led song. "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" wasn't made for Aerosmith diehards, casual fans, or even rock fans. It was a song for normies — a droll and dull adult contemporary crossover, no less. This is the kiss of death as far as rock lovers are concerned, especially considering that Aerosmith had undergone a revival at the time following 1993's "Get a Grip." That album was built around accessible, everyman, blues-influenced rock, which makes "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" even more fake. 

Now it's time to remember that Michael Bolton gets labeled as "soft rock" and marvel at the idiocy of such labels. Bolton hit his peak at the rollover from the '80s to '90s when he got two No. 1 singles off two back-to-back albums: "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" off of 1989's "Soul Provider" (get it?) and "When a Man Loves a Woman" off of 1991's "Time, Love, & Tenderness." Out of the two, we're going to direct our ire at the former song if only because the name is so on the nose. Bolton should have just called it "My Love Song About How Special You Are, Lonely Lady Listener."

But it's not just the name "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" that's so grating. It's basically everything, right down to Bolton's sitting-on-the-chair-backward pose in the song's music video and the forlorn look on his face as he sings to the air, with a cheesy synth in the background and a head full of frizzy hair. Remember the "soft rock" label? This isn't merely soft: It's a nauseating, emotional fondue oozing a blubby goo of trite musical tropes. Somebody get this man a Gibson Flying V guitar and make him learn some riffs.

Granted, Bolton did redeem his immortal soul a bit with the 2011 "Jack Sparrow" song for the comedy trio Lonely Island (which he loved doing). So yes, he has a sense of humor about himself. But no one should have a sense of humor about "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" and its "plink-plonk" synth accompaniment, diecast backing tracks, and ocean of inauthenticity. Shut it off, please.