Episode 38: Right Song, Wrong Timing | Power Pop's Greatest "What Ifs"

Have you ever heard a song and wondered, "How was that band not huge?"

In this brand new recurring series, Christopher reopens five musical case files to investigate artists who had the right song, the right sound, and every reason to become major stars, but somehow never reached the level of success they seemed destined for.

This episode features The Smithereens' "Blood and Roses," Marshall Crenshaw's "Someday, Someway," Michael Penn's "No Myth," The Plimsouls' "A Million Miles Away," and The Producers' "What's He Got."

Along the way, you'll hear the stories behind the songs, the chart success, MTV exposure, record label decisions, and missed opportunities that shaped these careers. You'll also hear Christopher's personal memories of discovering Marshall Crenshaw through Beatlemania and why the missing Valley Girl soundtrack frustrated music fans for years.

Then it's time to close the case files, open the bar, and mix this episode's featured cocktail, "The Power Pop."

If you love classic rock, power pop, new wave, MTV, and the stories behind the songs, this episode is for you.

Here's to loud riffs, quiet sips, and the stories in between.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Have you ever heard a song and thought, how is that band not huge? Not just a hit, a career. A band that seemed destined to become the next big thing. Well, welcome back to Horde of the Pie, the podcast where music history, the stories behind the songs, a little something in your glass all come together. Once again, this is Christopher, and today we're kicking off a brand new reoccurring series we're calling The Right Song Wrong Timing. This isn't a series about One Hit Wonders. It's about artists who had the right song, the right sound, and every reason to become major stars. But somehow, along the way, something happened. In every episode, we're going to reopen five musical case files. We'll examine the evidence, the songs, the charts, the airplay, the record labels, and the timing. And then we'll answer one question: what happened? Some cases have clear answers, others remain unsolved. Well, looks like it's time to open our first case. Now, if you're a fan of classic rock, chances are you've heard that classic bass line, The Blood and Roses, more times than you can count. It's become one of those songs that feels like it was a huge hit. Classic rock stations still play it. Musicians still praise it. And if you ask a fan of 80s rock about the smithereens, this is almost always the very first song they're gonna mention.

SPEAKER_04 1:21

It was long ago.

SPEAKER_00 1:26

So here's the mystery. If the song was that good and people loved the band that much, why wasn't the band huge? That's exactly where the smithereens are a very first case file.

unknown 1:36

I want to love what it comes out wrong.

SPEAKER_01 1:40

I want to live with what it comes to.

SPEAKER_00 1:42

The band formed in New Jersey in 1980, built around singer-songwriter Pat Denisio, guitarist Jim Babjek, bassist Mike Monrose, and drummer Dennis Dickin. Unlike many bands that came together chasing a record deal, these four musicians built their reputation the old-fashioned way by playing clubs, writing songs, and slowly developing a sound that didn't really sound like anybody else. Now you can definitely hear echoes of the Beatles and the Who, Buddy Holly, the whole British invasion, but somehow the smithereen still sounded unmistakably like the smithereen. The story behind Blood and Roses actually began at four in the morning. Pat Denizio was working as a sound engineer in New York City's legendary Folk City nightclub when one freezing night, walking home after work, a bass line suddenly popped into his head. Not the chorus, not the lyrics, just that unforgettable bassline. And the melody came later, and eventually everything else was built around it. Now, the lyrics actually have a much darker story than most listeners realize. Pat later revealed that they were inspired by a girl he knew in high school, who had later died by suicide. Even the title came from an unexpected place. It wasn't pulled from the lyrics at all. It was from a short story by Japanese author Yukio Mishima, one of Pat's favorite writers. When Blood and Roses was released in 1986 as the first single from their debut album, Especially for You, everything looked like it was lining up perfectly. Rock Radio embraced it, MTV put the video in rotation, and the song climbed to number 14 on Billboard's mainstream rock chart. And critics couldn't stop talking about this new band from New Jersey. Pat later remembered walking into a record store after the album was released and finding it filed under a brand new category called alternative. He laughed because he had never heard that term before. The band wasn't trying to invent a new genre. They were simply writing the kind of guitar songs that they loved. So what happened? Well, this is where our investigation gets more interesting because there isn't one dramatic answer. The band didn't implode, they didn't sue each other, and they weren't dropped by the record label. Pat rarely talked publicly about why the smithereens never became a bigger commercial success. And unlike many artists, he never pointed to one defining moment that changed everything. Now Blood and Roses wasn't even their biggest hit. Two years later, Only a Memory reached number one on the Billboard's mainstream rock chart. But it chose Blood Roses because it was their one song that introduced most of us to the Smithereens. It was their first single, their MTV breakthrough, and the record that made people stop and take notice. The band continued making records, continued touring, and built one of Rock's most loyal fan bases. Alright, so what's the evidence we have here? Great songs, critically acclaimed, MTV support, rock radio success, a loyal audience. Who are the suspects? Changing musical tastes, a band that refused to fit neatly in the one category, and an unwillingness to compromise. The smoking gun, none. We really have none. The verdict. Sometimes there isn't one reason a band doesn't become a superstar. Just sometimes it's a dozen of little things that don't quite add up. The Smithereens didn't become one of the biggest bands in America, but nearly 40 years later, we're still talking about them. And that may be the strongest evidence of all. It had the hooks, it had the melody, and it had that unmistakable Beatles and Buddy Holly influence. And it sounded like a hit from the very first listen. For me though, there was another reason that this song always had a special place. Several years before Marshall Crenshaw ever appeared on MTV, I saw a touring production of Beatlemania in San Francisco. And if you never saw Beatlemania, it wasn't really a play, it was more like a live Beatles concert brought to life by four incredibly talented musicians who portrayed John Paul, George, and Ringo. As the show moved through the Beatles' career, the performers changed costumes, they switched instruments, they recreated each musical era with elaborate lighting, great video screens, multimedia effects that were way ahead of their time, and I loved that show. I ended up buying the program and took it home with me. Now, years later, someday, some way had become a big hit. Now, I pulled that same program off the shelf and I was just flipping through it when I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The actor who played John Lennon was no other than Marshall Crenshaw. I had already seen him perform years before I even knew who he was. Marshall's career had already begun long before this record. After playing John Lennon in the touring production of Beal Mania, he left to pursue songwriting and before long he signed with Warner Brothers. His self-titled debut arrived in 1982, and Someday Some Way quickly became the record everybody was talking about. The song reached the billboard top 40, critics loved the album, and suddenly Marshall Crunchaw was being mentioned alongside some of the brightest new singer-songwriters in America.

SPEAKER_03 7:01

You've changed everything from me. I'm changing everything from you.

SPEAKER_00 7:06

And it wasn't hard to understand why. Someday Some Way sounded timeless from the very first listen. It wasn't trying to follow a trend. It wasn't loaded with synthesizers, it was simply a beautifully written pop song. And at that time, I was listening to a lot of Nick Lowe, Elvis Costello, Joe Jackson, so Marshall Crenshaw fit right into that world. If you love smart songwriting, irresistible melodies, and records that put the song ahead of everything else, someday, some way felt like it belonged in that same conversation. And maybe that's part of the mystery. Marshall Crenshaw wasn't trying to reinvent rock and roll. He was building on everything that came before him. You could hear Buddy Holly and you can hear the Beatles, and maybe that's why a few years later, Hollywood cast him as Buddy Holly in the movie La Bamba. By 1982, though, the music business was changing. MTV was becoming a major force, and image was becoming almost as important as songwriting. Marshall Crenshaw wasn't flashy, he wasn't controversial, he simply wrote great songs. So what happened? The breakthrough everyone expected from Someday Someway never really came. His relationship with Warner Brothers eventually soured. Although he continued recording critically acclaimed albums, he never found the same commercial momentum again. Instead of chasing trends, Marshall kept making the music that he really believed in. Evidence, a top 40 debut single, critically acclaimed, a major record deal, and an unforgettable debut album. The suspects, changing music industry, label frustrations, a classic songwriting style that never quite fit the marketing trends at the time. Smoking Gun, no single Smoking Gun. The verdict? Marshall Crenshaw missed the commercial breakthrough many people expected. But he never stopped making music. He simply stopped waiting for the music business to catch up to him. And for those of us who still love Someday Someway, it's still a mystery worth talking about. Some debut singles announce a new artist. Others introduce somebody that you assume you're gonna be listening to for the next 20 years. And that's what No Myth by Michael Penn felt like in 1989. It was smart, it was catchy, and it sounded unlike anything else on the radio. At a time when pop radio was filled with power ballads, glam metal, and polished production, Michael Penn showed up with something that felt fresh, clever, and completely original. The song climbed into the Billboard Top 20. MTB embraced the video, critics love the album. Just like that, Michael Penn looked like one of the brightest new singer-songwriters in America. Oh, and if the last name sounds familiar, it should. Michael is the older brother of actor Sean Penn, but unlike his famous brother, Michael built his career quietly around songwriting rather than Hollywood. Then something happened that had nothing to do with his music. The RCA executive who had championed Penn left the label. The company went through major changes, and almost overnight, the promotional momentum behind his career began to disappear. Penn himself pointed to those changes as one of the reasons his commercial career never really developed in the way so many people expected. Unlike some artists who simply disappear after their breakthrough stalled, Michael Penn never stopped making music. He continued recording, he became a respected songwriter, and eventually he found a new audience by writing music for film and television. That superstar career that many people predicted never happened, but Michael Penn never stopped doing what he did best. He just did it on a different stage. Evidence, a top 20 hit. Heavy MTV rotation, critical acclaim, a major record deal. Suspects, record label upheaval, changing priorities at RCA, and the music industry that moved just too quickly. Smoking gun, the departure of RCA executives who believed in Michael Penn, the loss of the record label support that followed, that was the major smoking gun in this case. Verdict, Michael Penn didn't lose his talent. He lost the momentum that every new artist depends on. And sometimes that's all it takes. Sometimes a movie can do more than launch an actor's career. It can introduce an entire generation to a band. We talked about Marshall Crenshaw appearing in La Bamba, and this time it's the other way around. This movie didn't feature a musician playing a character, it featured a real band playing themselves. And that movie was Valley Girl.

SPEAKER_01 11:45

I thought about you while the radio played.

SPEAKER_00 11:51

Long before Nicolas Cage became an Academy Award-winning actor, Valley Girl captured a moment in Southern California that felt incredibly real to those of us who were teenagers at the time. But for music fans, it also introduced us to one of the greatest movie soundtracks that never officially existed. Now here's something that drove me crazy back in the 80s. I loved the music in Valley Girl, and I wanted to buy the soundtrack, but there wasn't one. There was no official soundtrack featuring the songs that we all remembered from the movie. If you wanted every song from Valley Girl, you had to hunt them down one at a time. You had to buy each 45 and make your own soundtrack on cassette. The songs that made the movie so memorable simply weren't available together in one album. And it wasn't until 1994 that a much more complete collection finally appeared. Again, not an official soundtrack, just the songs from The Valley Girl. And one of those songs is A Million Miles Away by The Plim Souls. And here's what many people forget or didn't know in the first place. The Plimsouls didn't just have a song in the movie, they were actually in the movie performing it. And if you were a young band in 1983, you couldn't have asked for better exposure than that. The movie became a hit, the song became one of the defining moments, and critics loved the band. Everything seemed perfectly lined up. So what happened? The Blimso had already built a strong reputation in Los Angeles. Through relentless touring and a million miles away, it looked like the breakthrough hit that would carry them into the national spotlight. Instead, the momentum never really arrived. Internal tensions grew, and the band broke up not long after their moment of great exposure. And the opportunity that Valley Girl created slowly slipped away. Looking back, it's one of those stories that's really hard to understand. They had the song, they had the movie, they had the exposure, and somehow they never became the household name that so many people expected. Peter Case would go on and have a respected solo career while a million miles away continued finding new audiences through radio, movies, and streaming. In many ways, the song became more famous than the band itself. So where's the evidence? It's a great song, a hit movie, a memorable on-screen performance, and a growing national audience. And the suspects, let's see, a missed commercial opportunity, internal band tensions, and a breakup at exactly the wrong moment. Smoking Gun, the band lost its momentum before it could capitalize on the success of Valley Girl. Final verdict? Sometimes the hardest part isn't getting the big break, it's surviving it. And few bands illustrate that better than the Plimsouls. Sometimes I hear a song and think, how is this not a smash? That's exactly how I feel every time I hear What's He Got by the producers. It's got a great hook, a killer chorus, fantastic harmonies, and enough energy to make you want to turn the volume up every single time it comes on. But there's another reason that this song has always fascinated me. Structurally, it's a little different. Most pop songs build towards the chorus. What's he got does the exact opposite. It grabs you at the chorus right out of the gate. And from that point on, everything else feels like it's supporting that hook. The verses almost become a setup just to get back to the chorus again. As a musician, I've always loved that. It's confident, it's immediate, and absolutely waste no time telling you why you should keep listening. The producers came out of Atlanta, Georgia, at a time when PowerPop was fighting for space on radio alongside New Wave, Arena Rock, and growing influence of MTV. When What's He Got was released in 1981, it seemed to have everything going for it. Critics loved the band, radio programmers loved the record, and everyone who heard it usually became an instant fan. Yet somehow, it never became the breakthrough everybody expected. Part of the problem may have been the timing. PowerPop has always been one of Rock's greatest underdogs. Critics love it, musicians love it, and the fans who discover it never forget it. But historically, it's rarely dominated the pop charts. The producers found themselves making exactly the kind of music that people admired, without ever becoming the next cars or cheap trick. Still, they refused to disappear. The band continued recording, touring, and building a loyal following, particularly in the Southeast, where they remain local legends. And maybe that's why What She Got still sounds so good today. It wasn't trying to follow a trend, it was simply a terrific pop song written by a band that deserved a much bigger audience. Alright, so what's our evidence? Outstanding songwriting, critical acclaim, strong radio support, a memorable debut. The suspects, a crowded musical landscape, power pop's ongoing commercial struggle, and not fitting neatly into the MTV era. Smoking gun, none again. But the verdict, sometimes there isn't anything wrong with the song. The timing is simply wrong. And that's exactly why the producers blung in the right song, wrong timing episode.