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All By Myself: Lead Singers Gone Solo
By Sean Nelson
MSN Music Editor
Perhaps no rock band of the past 20 years better exemplifies the collective ideal than Radiohead. Their songs are credited to the group, their photos display all five members, and their live performances are a model of complex musical interaction. In short, to paraphrase the old Blondie t-shirt, Radiohead is a band -- the band. But Thom Yorke, the lead singer and chief visionary of this band, is still a lead singer, and lead singers sometimes have a way of going solo, no matter how good their bands are. Sometimes they do it because they don't want to share the spotlight. Sometimes they do it because they don't want to share the royalty checks. Sometimes they just do it for a lark. But they almost always do it sooner or later.
Yorke's solo debut is called "The Eraser," and arrives on shelves (and at MSN Music!) July 11. One listen is enough to tell even a casual Radiohead fan that the band has nothing to fear; as solo efforts by lead singers go, Yorke's is decidedly of the "experimental noodling" school (as opposed to the "those losers are holding me back" variety), which isn't to say it's bad. It's not. It's just not Radiohead. He's explicitly stated that the album is just a one-off, and that the band's new LP -- songs from which are being road tested even as you read this -- is already underway. Still, its release presents the opportunity to consider other lead singers who have made the leap from bandleader to army of one (plus backing band), with varying degrees of fabulous success and dismal failure.
FIVE LEAD SINGER SOLO PROJECTS THAT STUCK:
Sting
The Police were almost as famous for hating each other as they were for their string of new wave pop hits (fused with reggae rhythms) like "Roxanne," and "Message in a Bottle." By the time they released "Synchronicity" in 1983, drummer Stewart Copeland, guitarist Andy Summers and bassist/lead singer Sting weren't even speaking to one another, which must have been awkward, since the album was their biggest yet, yielding unstoppable singles like "Every Breath You Take," "King of Pain" and "Wrapped Around Your Finger." Two years later, Sting had released an album called "Dream of the Blue Turtles" that made everyone assume that the Police would be back together before you could say "fake jazz." Well, that was 21 years, dozens of number one singles and countless grillions of dollars ago. In the meantime, Copeland almost played drums on a Doors reunion tour (without Jim Morrison, one might add) and Summers was briefly the leader of a TV house band on Dennis Miller's short-lived early '90s talk show. "King of Pain," indeed!
Gwen Stefani
More recently, the fashion-plate lead singer of mellow ska-punkers No Doubt broke free from that band's OC-meets-MTV style, which had birthed many an alternative hit ("Just a Girl," "Don't Speak," et al), and decided to "go for it" ("it" being the kind of mass appeal that plain old rock music simply can't get you anymore). The result of her efforts was the mega-platinum "Love, Angel, Music, Baby," an album of catchy, genre-hopping pop confections like "Hollaback Girl," "What You Waiting For?" and "Cool," all of which were massive hits that left no doubt about the future of Stefani's musical pursuits.
Stevie Nicks
Burned out from the romantic, narcissistic and pharmaceutical indulgences of the band she'd helped resurrect, Fleetwood Mac, Stevie wrapped herself in innumerable shawls and struck out on her own for a series of albums, including "Bella Donna" and "The Wild Heart," that were positively riddled with radio hits, including duets with Tom Petty ("Stop Dragging My Heart Around") and Don Henley ("Leather and Lace"). Truth to tell, her later albums were never as successful as those first two, and she always came back to the Mac. Still, her solo efforts sent a clear message to her soft rock comrades: She can (and did) go her own way.
Paul McCartney
OK, technically, McCartney wasn't the lead singer of the Beatles, but if you listen to their last few records (from "Sgt Pepper" through "Let It Be," actually), and read the books and see the documentaries -- and you know you have -- it's clear that Paul was the driving force behind the band's difficult late period. George was frustrated, Ringo was busy acting in films and John was immersed in heroin and a budding love affair with Yoko Ono. They all knew it was over, but agreed not to say anything. So it was that McCartney sneaked off to Scotland and made "McCartney," a brilliant collection of songs and song fragments, some for the ages ("Maybe I'm Amazed," "Every Night," "Teddy Boy," "Junk") and some for the dustbin ("Kreen-Akrore," "Hot as Sun"). In any case, his fellow soon-to-be-ex-Beatles were flabbergasted when the album's release was announced, in direct contradiction of their agreement not to tell the world the band had broken up. (And you always blamed Yoko!) "McCartney" predictably went to number one, and has been followed by 35 years of blinding brilliance, utter folly, the odd experiment and hit after mind-blowing hit. Say what you will about the late greats Lennon and Harrison -- both of whom were every bit as hit-and-miss on their own as McCartney -- pound for pound, Paul has produced the strongest solo catalog of any ex-Beatle, silly love songs and all.
Michael Jackson
It's hard enough to remember when Michael Jackson was a human being, let alone the adorable pint-sized lead singer of the Jackson 5. How many lifetimes (and how many noses?) ago was it that the puny little kid with the voice like a rocket ship sang and danced his way into the hearts of a grateful nation on evergreen gems like "ABC," "I'll Be There," and "I Want You Back"? Much to the chagrin of his brothers, Michael eventually got tired of carrying them around on his narrow little shoulders and got the itch to do his own thing. With the help of genius producer Quincy Jones, he made "Off the Wall," featuring "Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough," "Rock With You" and "She's Out of My Life" in 1979. It was brilliant. It was also massive. Four years later, Jones and Jackson came up with "Thriller," which was brilliant, too. It was also so massive as to redefine the notion of pop megastardom. Everyone bought it. Even Randy, Jermaine, Tito and the other Jackson brother whose name no one remembers. That was all well and good at the time, but it didn't do Michael himself any favors, since he obviously still lives in the fantasy -- 23 years, countless plastic surgeries and terrifying criminal proceedings later -- that "Thriller" is still number one, that he is still "Dangerous" (to anyone other than his young houseguests), and that his subsequent work, even when it's good, is anything other than "Bad."
... AND FIVE LEAD SINGER SOLO PROJECTS THAT SUCKED:
Lindsey Buckingham
Taking his cue from bandmate and former paramour Stevie Nicks, Buckingham, whom everyone acknowledges was the real producing/arranging (not to mention singing/songwriting) mastermind behind Fleetwood Mac's biggest successes, struck out on his own for a series of solo albums, beginning with 1985's "Go Insane," which could have just as easily been called "Go Nowhere." Much of Buckingham's solo stuff was excellent ("Go Insane" is one of the great lost gems of the '80s, and remember "Holiday Road," the theme song to "National Lampoon's Vacation"?), but it just didn't connect with audiences the way he did when he went back to the Mac, which he invariably did.
Rob Thomas
The lead singer from '90s MOR hitmakers Matchbox 20 (strike one) had already enjoyed a huge success as the co-writer (with one Carlos Santana) and singer of "Smooth," one of 2000's most inescapable pop phenomena. Thus emboldened, Thomas left the smoldering ashes of his old band (whose sophomore album failed to reach the heights of its first) and went the route of so many lead singers before him, issuing "Something to Be" in 2005. You remember "Something to Be," right? The Rob Thomas solo album? Rob Thomas? From Matchbox 20? No, Matchbox Twenty. They were a band in the '90s. No? Oh well, never mind.
Bryan Ferry
The debonair frontman of legendary British proto-glam rockers Roxy Music began making solo albums while his band was still very much a going concern. Unfortunately, he just kept on making them, despite bandmate resentment, critical scorn and general public indifference (with one or two notable exceptions). But where Roxy were fierce, stylish revolutionaries who breathed new life into the tired corpse of early-to-mid '70s rock, Ferry albums were curiously un-daring, offering ironic covers (his boogie band treatment of Dylan's "A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall" is representative, but his version of John Lennon's "Jealous Guy," issued shortly after Lennon's murder, was a minor hit), the requisite stab at standards (the "As Time Goes By" LP) and a lot of songs that simply weren't as good as the material he brought to Roxy Music. No wonder then, that the band has weathered line-up changes and break-ups, only to reunite time and time again.
Susanna Hoffs
Here's the short version: Hoffs was by far the loveliest of the Bangles, a cool, talented all-female band that emerged from the retro-psychedelic paisley underground scene of mid-'80s L.A., only to be turned by producers and video directors into a bland (but very successful) glamour group. (The same thing happened to the Go-Gos, who had been a legitimate late punk/new wave band before the MTV airbrush turned them into candyfloss.) Despite being demonstrably prettier than her bandmates, Hoffs was only a part of an ensemble. The camera always tended to single her out (did I mention that she was incredibly beautiful), however, and it wasn't long before she was perceived to be the group's leader. It wasn't long after that perception took hold that she starred in her own terrible movie (1987's "The Allnighter" -- directed by her mom!). After the band released its most successful single, "Eternal Flame," in 1989, Hoffs made her solo debut with "When You're a Boy" in 1991. It was unmemorable and didn't sell well, so five years later she made another (Susanna Hoffs,"). It didn't fare much better. In 2003, the Bangles reunited, made a record ("Doll Revolution") and toured.
David Lee Roth
Pretty much the boilerplate cautionary tale for what happens when lead singers get too big for their (admittedly skin-tight) britches. Roth was the lead singer and unqualified star of Van Halen from the band's inception to its (then-) biggest success, the album "1984," which featured "Jump," "Panama" and "Hot For Teacher." The videos for these songs featured indelible images of Roth jumping, dancing and otherwise mugging for any camera that cared to watch him. He was a rock god, too big for any band that couldn't be bothered to use his name. So solo he went, and scored a couple of hits with novelty covers ("California Girls," "Just a Gigolo") whose videos made quick work of his now familiar TV persona, Diamond Dave. Then he made a proper record, then he made another and another and maybe even another. They all tanked, while Van Halen went on, with a mediocre replacement singer (Sammy Hagar) in tow, to bigger and -- well, if not better, then certainly bigger -- things. Roth was last seen flailing as a NYC radio host and desperately trying to recapture some of the old Van Halen mojo with a bluegrass band on "The Tonight Show." He was right about one thing: in a situation like that, you really might as well jump.
By Sean Nelson
MSN Music Editor
Perhaps no rock band of the past 20 years better exemplifies the collective ideal than Radiohead. Their songs are credited to the group, their photos display all five members, and their live performances are a model of complex musical interaction. In short, to paraphrase the old Blondie t-shirt, Radiohead is a band -- the band. But Thom Yorke, the lead singer and chief visionary of this band, is still a lead singer, and lead singers sometimes have a way of going solo, no matter how good their bands are. Sometimes they do it because they don't want to share the spotlight. Sometimes they do it because they don't want to share the royalty checks. Sometimes they just do it for a lark. But they almost always do it sooner or later.
Yorke's solo debut is called "The Eraser," and arrives on shelves (and at MSN Music!) July 11. One listen is enough to tell even a casual Radiohead fan that the band has nothing to fear; as solo efforts by lead singers go, Yorke's is decidedly of the "experimental noodling" school (as opposed to the "those losers are holding me back" variety), which isn't to say it's bad. It's not. It's just not Radiohead. He's explicitly stated that the album is just a one-off, and that the band's new LP -- songs from which are being road tested even as you read this -- is already underway. Still, its release presents the opportunity to consider other lead singers who have made the leap from bandleader to army of one (plus backing band), with varying degrees of fabulous success and dismal failure.
FIVE LEAD SINGER SOLO PROJECTS THAT STUCK:
Sting
The Police were almost as famous for hating each other as they were for their string of new wave pop hits (fused with reggae rhythms) like "Roxanne," and "Message in a Bottle." By the time they released "Synchronicity" in 1983, drummer Stewart Copeland, guitarist Andy Summers and bassist/lead singer Sting weren't even speaking to one another, which must have been awkward, since the album was their biggest yet, yielding unstoppable singles like "Every Breath You Take," "King of Pain" and "Wrapped Around Your Finger." Two years later, Sting had released an album called "Dream of the Blue Turtles" that made everyone assume that the Police would be back together before you could say "fake jazz." Well, that was 21 years, dozens of number one singles and countless grillions of dollars ago. In the meantime, Copeland almost played drums on a Doors reunion tour (without Jim Morrison, one might add) and Summers was briefly the leader of a TV house band on Dennis Miller's short-lived early '90s talk show. "King of Pain," indeed!
Gwen Stefani
More recently, the fashion-plate lead singer of mellow ska-punkers No Doubt broke free from that band's OC-meets-MTV style, which had birthed many an alternative hit ("Just a Girl," "Don't Speak," et al), and decided to "go for it" ("it" being the kind of mass appeal that plain old rock music simply can't get you anymore). The result of her efforts was the mega-platinum "Love, Angel, Music, Baby," an album of catchy, genre-hopping pop confections like "Hollaback Girl," "What You Waiting For?" and "Cool," all of which were massive hits that left no doubt about the future of Stefani's musical pursuits.
Stevie Nicks
Burned out from the romantic, narcissistic and pharmaceutical indulgences of the band she'd helped resurrect, Fleetwood Mac, Stevie wrapped herself in innumerable shawls and struck out on her own for a series of albums, including "Bella Donna" and "The Wild Heart," that were positively riddled with radio hits, including duets with Tom Petty ("Stop Dragging My Heart Around") and Don Henley ("Leather and Lace"). Truth to tell, her later albums were never as successful as those first two, and she always came back to the Mac. Still, her solo efforts sent a clear message to her soft rock comrades: She can (and did) go her own way.
Paul McCartney
OK, technically, McCartney wasn't the lead singer of the Beatles, but if you listen to their last few records (from "Sgt Pepper" through "Let It Be," actually), and read the books and see the documentaries -- and you know you have -- it's clear that Paul was the driving force behind the band's difficult late period. George was frustrated, Ringo was busy acting in films and John was immersed in heroin and a budding love affair with Yoko Ono. They all knew it was over, but agreed not to say anything. So it was that McCartney sneaked off to Scotland and made "McCartney," a brilliant collection of songs and song fragments, some for the ages ("Maybe I'm Amazed," "Every Night," "Teddy Boy," "Junk") and some for the dustbin ("Kreen-Akrore," "Hot as Sun"). In any case, his fellow soon-to-be-ex-Beatles were flabbergasted when the album's release was announced, in direct contradiction of their agreement not to tell the world the band had broken up. (And you always blamed Yoko!) "McCartney" predictably went to number one, and has been followed by 35 years of blinding brilliance, utter folly, the odd experiment and hit after mind-blowing hit. Say what you will about the late greats Lennon and Harrison -- both of whom were every bit as hit-and-miss on their own as McCartney -- pound for pound, Paul has produced the strongest solo catalog of any ex-Beatle, silly love songs and all.
Michael Jackson
It's hard enough to remember when Michael Jackson was a human being, let alone the adorable pint-sized lead singer of the Jackson 5. How many lifetimes (and how many noses?) ago was it that the puny little kid with the voice like a rocket ship sang and danced his way into the hearts of a grateful nation on evergreen gems like "ABC," "I'll Be There," and "I Want You Back"? Much to the chagrin of his brothers, Michael eventually got tired of carrying them around on his narrow little shoulders and got the itch to do his own thing. With the help of genius producer Quincy Jones, he made "Off the Wall," featuring "Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough," "Rock With You" and "She's Out of My Life" in 1979. It was brilliant. It was also massive. Four years later, Jones and Jackson came up with "Thriller," which was brilliant, too. It was also so massive as to redefine the notion of pop megastardom. Everyone bought it. Even Randy, Jermaine, Tito and the other Jackson brother whose name no one remembers. That was all well and good at the time, but it didn't do Michael himself any favors, since he obviously still lives in the fantasy -- 23 years, countless plastic surgeries and terrifying criminal proceedings later -- that "Thriller" is still number one, that he is still "Dangerous" (to anyone other than his young houseguests), and that his subsequent work, even when it's good, is anything other than "Bad."
... AND FIVE LEAD SINGER SOLO PROJECTS THAT SUCKED:
Lindsey Buckingham
Taking his cue from bandmate and former paramour Stevie Nicks, Buckingham, whom everyone acknowledges was the real producing/arranging (not to mention singing/songwriting) mastermind behind Fleetwood Mac's biggest successes, struck out on his own for a series of solo albums, beginning with 1985's "Go Insane," which could have just as easily been called "Go Nowhere." Much of Buckingham's solo stuff was excellent ("Go Insane" is one of the great lost gems of the '80s, and remember "Holiday Road," the theme song to "National Lampoon's Vacation"?), but it just didn't connect with audiences the way he did when he went back to the Mac, which he invariably did.
Rob Thomas
The lead singer from '90s MOR hitmakers Matchbox 20 (strike one) had already enjoyed a huge success as the co-writer (with one Carlos Santana) and singer of "Smooth," one of 2000's most inescapable pop phenomena. Thus emboldened, Thomas left the smoldering ashes of his old band (whose sophomore album failed to reach the heights of its first) and went the route of so many lead singers before him, issuing "Something to Be" in 2005. You remember "Something to Be," right? The Rob Thomas solo album? Rob Thomas? From Matchbox 20? No, Matchbox Twenty. They were a band in the '90s. No? Oh well, never mind.
Bryan Ferry
The debonair frontman of legendary British proto-glam rockers Roxy Music began making solo albums while his band was still very much a going concern. Unfortunately, he just kept on making them, despite bandmate resentment, critical scorn and general public indifference (with one or two notable exceptions). But where Roxy were fierce, stylish revolutionaries who breathed new life into the tired corpse of early-to-mid '70s rock, Ferry albums were curiously un-daring, offering ironic covers (his boogie band treatment of Dylan's "A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall" is representative, but his version of John Lennon's "Jealous Guy," issued shortly after Lennon's murder, was a minor hit), the requisite stab at standards (the "As Time Goes By" LP) and a lot of songs that simply weren't as good as the material he brought to Roxy Music. No wonder then, that the band has weathered line-up changes and break-ups, only to reunite time and time again.
Susanna Hoffs
Here's the short version: Hoffs was by far the loveliest of the Bangles, a cool, talented all-female band that emerged from the retro-psychedelic paisley underground scene of mid-'80s L.A., only to be turned by producers and video directors into a bland (but very successful) glamour group. (The same thing happened to the Go-Gos, who had been a legitimate late punk/new wave band before the MTV airbrush turned them into candyfloss.) Despite being demonstrably prettier than her bandmates, Hoffs was only a part of an ensemble. The camera always tended to single her out (did I mention that she was incredibly beautiful), however, and it wasn't long before she was perceived to be the group's leader. It wasn't long after that perception took hold that she starred in her own terrible movie (1987's "The Allnighter" -- directed by her mom!). After the band released its most successful single, "Eternal Flame," in 1989, Hoffs made her solo debut with "When You're a Boy" in 1991. It was unmemorable and didn't sell well, so five years later she made another (Susanna Hoffs,"). It didn't fare much better. In 2003, the Bangles reunited, made a record ("Doll Revolution") and toured.
David Lee Roth
Pretty much the boilerplate cautionary tale for what happens when lead singers get too big for their (admittedly skin-tight) britches. Roth was the lead singer and unqualified star of Van Halen from the band's inception to its (then-) biggest success, the album "1984," which featured "Jump," "Panama" and "Hot For Teacher." The videos for these songs featured indelible images of Roth jumping, dancing and otherwise mugging for any camera that cared to watch him. He was a rock god, too big for any band that couldn't be bothered to use his name. So solo he went, and scored a couple of hits with novelty covers ("California Girls," "Just a Gigolo") whose videos made quick work of his now familiar TV persona, Diamond Dave. Then he made a proper record, then he made another and another and maybe even another. They all tanked, while Van Halen went on, with a mediocre replacement singer (Sammy Hagar) in tow, to bigger and -- well, if not better, then certainly bigger -- things. Roth was last seen flailing as a NYC radio host and desperately trying to recapture some of the old Van Halen mojo with a bluegrass band on "The Tonight Show." He was right about one thing: in a situation like that, you really might as well jump.
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