5 Flop Songs From 1979 We Can't Help But Love

Who's to say what makes a flop? A legendary band like Led Zeppelin was derided by critics but so loved by fans that it played to the biggest crowd of the '70s: 76,229 at the now-demolished Silverdome in 1977. Other songs, like "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey, have taken on legendary status but never reached No. 1 in the charts. The year 1979 was no exception to the mismatch between fan, critic, expectations, and performance, creating flop songs that we can't help but love.

But like we said, there are lots of ways that a song can flop. An artist might have a huge hit and then bomb on the next attempt, even if the bomb charts higher or sells more than other artists' work. Or, one single on an album might tank in comparison to others. Then again, a song might do fine with critics but disappoint fans, especially if an artist does a career pivot. Or like in the case of Led Zeppelin (and later groups such as Nirvana, Weezer, Korn, and more), critics might lambast a song or album even as the general public loves it. For the purposes of this article, we're going to open the floor to all of these possibilities.

On that note, two of the 1979 songs we've chosen were underperforming songs from successful groups (albeit "successful" on totally different levels): Queen and Village People. Two other songs come from artists that were never mega-commercially successful, no matter their artistic renown and loyal fanbases: Leonard Cohen and Frank Zappa. Then we've got a track from a band that's become legendary among hard rock and metal circles but never breached the Billboard Hot 100, ever. 

Bet you didn't expect to see Queen on this list, huh? That's right. No matter Queen's mythical status, no matter its 125 million albums sold or nearly 51 million monthly listeners on Spotify (including eight songs in the billion listens club), not all of its songs were hits. Enter a 1979 song that seems like a no-brainer hit in retrospect but only reached No. 86 on the Billboard Hot 100: "Don't Stop Me Now."

Granted, plenty of other musicians would kill to get to No. 86 on the Billboard Hot 100. But Queen? Out of 24 singles to breach the Billboard Hot 100, "Don't Stop Me Now" sits dead last. That's below the theme song for 1980's "Flash Gordon" at No. 42 (ok, that track crushes) and songs like "Tie Your Mother Down" at No. 49, which is about, uh ... We'll let you read the lyrics. The other single from Queen's 1978 "Jazz," the combined "Bicycle Race/Fat Bottomed Girls," charted way higher at No. 24. This makes "Don't Stop Me Now" a bonafide flop (but it got a second life through 2004's "Shaun of the Dead").

So what happened with this track? Did people not go in for Freddie Mercury "defyin' the laws of gravity," "traveling at the speed of light," or "burnin' through the sky" like Mister Fahrenheit? We've got no clue. In 2014, Rolling Stone ranked "Don't Stop Me Now" as the Queen's third best song, which is quite a high bar. And bonus for all listeners: The song is so empowering that it can get you through a painful Valentine's Day or any other time. 

Listen, no one's going to call Village People's "Ready for the 80's" (yes, it should be '80s) a musical masterpiece that showcases genius-level songcraft or something. It's really dumb, really silly, excruciatingly campy, and borderline embarrassing to listen to, let alone watch — like in a December 31, 1979, performance on YouTube. But it's also so proud of itself, so unabashed, and so aware of what it is that we really can't help but love it, shtick and all. We can't say the same for the public in 1979, though, as the song only reached No. 52 on the Billboard Hot 100.

In most cases, No. 52 is a solid achievement. But just like Queen, "Ready for the 80's" ranks as the lowest-charting Village People song. "Macho Man" reached No. 25 the year prior in 1978, right along with that most immortal of party songs, "Y.M.C.A.," at No. 2. No matter that Village People were ready for the '80s; it seems like the public wasn't ready for them being ready for the '80s.

We can't say exactly why "Ready for the 80's" flopped. Admittedly, it's not as catchy of a song as "Y.M.C.A.," "Macho Man," "In the Navy," or ... okay, maybe that's why. Maybe Village People's costumed gimmick had run its course. Maybe disco had run its course, too. The song came out the same year as the infamous Disco Demolition Night in Chicago that saw over 5,000 baseball fans riot because "disco sucks!" Some say it was the riot killed disco (as the BBC describes). The next year, in 1980, Village People released their absolute failure of a movie, "Can't Stop the Music," which all but crippled their music career.

Now it's time to get a little serious, if only because everything Leonard Cohen touched was at least a little serious. Releasing his first solo folk outing in 1968 following the peak of the '60s folk revival, Cohen was a poet first and musician second. He was so lyrically gifted that legendary singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell said that she was "only a groupie for Picasso and Leonard" and that "all my songs seem so naive by comparison," as Far Out Magazine quotes. But folks might forget that Cohen's late-life popularity boom belied an earlier lack of mainstream commercial success. Case in point: "The Guests" from his 1979 album, "Recent Songs."

"Recent Songs" was something of an acoustic return to form, plus a couple eclectic touches, following Cohen's experimental 1977 album, "Death of a Ladies' Man," produced by Phil Spector. But "Recent Songs" still went nowhere with the public. Not only did none of its songs breach the Billboard Hot 100, but the album also didn't breach the Billboard 200 (15 of Cohen's albums have). 

But we don't love "The Guests" simply because it's underappreciated or because it's from Cohen. "The Guests" stands on its own as an example of the kind of dark, subdued folk work that characterized earlier Cohen songs like 1971's highly underrated "Avalanche." "The Guests" might not be Cohen's best work, but its violin flourishes, vocal harmonies, and even faint synth lines elevate the song and transform it into a piece of pained beauty. As far as Cohen's famed lyrics are concerned, "The Guests" paints a portrait of how Cohen might have felt come the late '70s: in need of friends, guests, and a house full of revelry and joy.

Ahem, and we quote: "Stick it out, stick out your hot curly weenie," "See the screaming, hot black steaming / Iridescent Naugahyde python screaming steam roller," and, of course (worth quoting in full), "Stunned by Joe's command of its native tongue, a gleaming model XQJ-37 nuclear powered Pan-Sexual Roto-Plooker named Sy Borg, previously thought to be the son of the lady who called the police on cut two, side I, spindles over to Joe and says." Yep, it's time for the clown prince of weird music (and defender of free speech to Congress in 1985) — Frank Zappa. The year 1979 was a busy one for him, but not one that necessarily took off in the moment, especially "Stick it Out."

Zappa released what is essentially six albums in 1979, including a three-act rock opera, "Joe's Garage." Characterized as a "comedy record" by Zappa and built in his home studio (per Rolling Stone), the albums are narrated by a character named the Central Scrutinizer and tell the story of a guy named Joe in a musically suppressed, dystopian society. The music, including "Stick it Out," is just as funny as it is cleverly, unexpectedly written. 

"Joe's Garage Act I" charted the best out of the trilogy, reaching No. 27 on the Billboard 200, while Acts II and III (released together) reached No. 53. "Stick it Out," however, is nowhere to be found on any chart, no matter that it and other Zappa songs like "Nanook Rubs It" are cooler than anything you can find today. And no matter that some fans all but worship "Joe's Garage" and its bevy of tracks, others rank them in the middle of Zappa's works while some put them at the bottom. 

"We are Motörhead, and we play rock and roll!" Motörhead bassist, singer, and lead Lemmy Kilmister summarized of the band at Wacken in 2006 (via YouTube). Things really were that simple with Motörhead, a band that released its debut, self-titled album in 1977, peaked with "Ace of Spades" (both the song and album) in 1980, and went on to achieve god-tier status among rock and metal communities in decades to come for its "f*** you" attitude and biker bar aesthetic as much as its music. That future was far from guaranteed in 1979, though, when Motörhead released two albums: "Overkill" and "Bomber." And out of both albums, it was "No Class" from "Overkill" that flopped.

If we look at the U.S., we could say that all of Motörhead's songs flopped, as none of its songs ever made it into the Billboard Hot 100 (although following Lemmy's death in 2015, "Ace of Spades" cracked several non-Hot 100 charts). But even in Motörhead's home, the U.K., "No Class" underperformed. And it did so during a Motörhead surge in popularity that led United Artists to release the band's original, unreleased 1976-completed album, "On Parole." In 1979 on the U.K. Official Singles Chart, "Bomber" from "Bomber" went to No. 34, while "Overkill" from "Overkill" went to No. 39. "No Class" reached No. 61.

But there's really nothing to complain about with "No Class." It's the same Motörhead bridge between rock, punk, and metal, is thrashy and driving, contains Lemmy's magnificent rasp, and is dripping in outlaw attitude. This is both the least and most you can expect from Motörhead, which is just perfect.