A Bad Place Full Of Bad Jerks
A Bad Place Full Of Bad Jerks
Illustration for article titled Friday. 5/27: The Worst Pop/Rock Songs Since 1990: Goodbye to the Stink 16

We had some laughs, we had some guests, we had some fun, and we decided the fate of another 16 songs. The rounds are flying by, and a handful of these will start to look familiar on a pretty frequent basis. But the Division Finals - the “Tainted 8" - run next week for the right to represent their genre in the Foul Four for the ultimate “honor”.


You can find those polls here. Starting Monday. Tuesday.

And now our farewells to 8 more losses in this war of attrition.


RM: Goodbye, Daniel Powter. Your last name is perfect for this crappy song about FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS. Oh you are standing in line? So terrible. SOME PEOPLE GOT THE BLACK DEATH PAL. Also, if you hadn’t heard this song enough the NFL decided to deluge our football viewing experiences with this horrible song a few years ago. I cannot think of this song without picturing a woman in a pink Romo jersey crying in her car. Daniel Powter, I hope have gastritis for the rest of your natural life.


NSS: Rest in peace Hoobastank. “The Reason” was - in every way - the ultimate smorgasbord of objectionable things that would get a song on a list like this in the first place. You were preposterously sincere to the point of comedy, misguided on your vocal talents, and wrote unforgettable lyrics, albeit, unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. As my entry descends to the ranks of OldBeigeGuy, I’ll hear your serenade over that finger-picked guitar: “I’m not a perfect entryyyy, I never meant to do that thing to youuuuu”

RM: Uncle Kracker is an insult to our collective intelligence. You know he used to be in Kid Rock’s entourage because he looks like the music video “Bawitdaba” had a baby with an Ed Hardy store and fed said baby exclusively Arby’s roast beef sandwiches. Anyhow whether “Follow Me” is about Heroin usage or adultery there is one thing for certain: it most certainly sucks.


NSS: Everyone kept saying you were a joke, Baha Men. But I knew better. I read your lyrics, and while subtle they make Robin Thicke look like Frank Sinatra. I’ll miss dwelling on how all those kid movies promoted a song about a handsy out of control party.

RM: Oh Korn, you are gone but not forgotten. Can you make a good song based on the deeper, darker meanings of lullabies and nursery rhymes? Well, it hasn’t been done so far.

RM: Hey guys I was digging through Revolutionary Era primary sources and I stumbled upon this letter:

Dearest Abigail,
Come my lady. Come, come my lady. You’re my butterfly, sugar, baby.

Your Devoted Husband,
John Adams

Wow, what a beautiful description of love. (“Butterfly”)

Logophobe: “Baby” launched the Biebs’ career, a sin for which it can never be forgiven. It is garbage pop at its finest- I mean ffs you’ve got it all: one-word chorus, actual balls-haven’t-dropped falsetto, idiotic rich white kid angst, etc. The fact that Canada exported this virulent earworm machine is a compelling argument for retaliatory carpet bombing


RM: Aerosmith, listening to your song makes me wish an asteroid hit the earth. Not just in the movie, but in real life.

Your Final Tainted 8 Bracket:

- Thank You’s: Thank you to those who guest hosted, submitted nominees, playlists, Gerse for hosting the challenge, @blairdow for designing our Twitter logo, Sidespin for TKTKTK, and the staff at Deadspin for your tireless efforts.

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