A Banner Year for Greed, Foolishness

Just when you thought rock ‘n roll couldn’t possibly get any sillier, along came . . . Milli Vanilli.

But the disgraced pop hunks who were stripped of their Grammy after admitting they didn’t actually sing on their multiplatinum album, weren’t the only rock icons whose music turned out to be far less important than their marketing image. In fact, you could call 1990 the year of the Big Sell--or the Big Sell Out--as pop stars hyped themselves with a vengeance.

The tackiest pitchman of all: M. C. Hammer. When rap’s reigning kingpin accepted his Best Rap Song trophy at the MTV Awards broadcast, he made sure everyone knew he’d signed a lucrative deal to hype soft drinks by plugging his new sponsor and waving a Pepsi can at the podium.

The most earnest pitchmen: New Kids on the Block. The teen idols had a string of hits this year (they have four albums in the Top 100 right now). But they made even more money with an incredible series of merchandising deals valued at upwards of $400 million (in other words, more than what Jose Canseco, Madonna and Jack Nicholson make in a year combined).

And the Hamlet of pitchmen had to be George Michael. In interviews to hype his new album, the Three-Day Bearded One complained so much about how stardom had made him miserable that he received a stinging rebuke from no less an authority than Frank Sinatra, who advised: “Come on, George. Loosen up. Swing, man. . . . You’re top dog on the top rung of a tall ladder called Stardom, which in Latin means thanks-to-the-fans who were there when it was lonely.”

And 1990 offered plenty of spills and thrills as well, whether it was Axl Rose being arrested on charges that he hit his neighbor with a wine bottle (the charges were later dropped) or Faith No More singer Mike Patton, who was questioned by Australian customs officials for smuggling a pair of fake breasts into the country (the eagle-eyed customs crew confiscated the falsies, which Patton planned to use in the band’s stage show). Any way you view it, it was a banner year for pop follies. To celebrate the music world’s clown princes, Pop Eye presents its yearly round-up of dubious achievements, inglorious moments and showbiz misadventures:

HIP-HOP FAN OF THE YEAR: Former president Richard Nixon, who says in a taped memoir at his new Richard Nixon Museum: “When I was seven, I started taking music lessons . . . and learned to play the violin, the clarinet, the saxophone and recorder. I’ve often thought that if there had been a good rap group around in those days, I might have chosen a career in music instead of politics.”

ELVIS QUOTE OF THE YEAR: When ABC-TV canceled its “Elvis” series this spring, citing poor ratings, “Elvis” producer Alan Spenser observed: “Isn’t it interesting that people see Elvis in 7-11s, Laundromats and Burger King, but no one watches him Sunday night at 8:30 on ABC.”

CHEF OF THE YEAR: Gourmet chef Carmen Bonnilla quit after only a month as Prince’s personal cook, complaining that the pop star, while professing to be a vegetarian, wouldn’t eat any salads or vegetables. “He eats a lot of junk food,” Bonnilla said. “I have the feeling it’s going to catch up with him.”

GENTLEMEN OF THE YEAR: After hearing that Deniece Wells had been arrested for using the men’s room at a George Strait concert this fall, the members of Ratt sent the Houston woman free tickets to their show--and an all-access laminated backstage pass saying she could use the group’s men’s room anytime.

PROMO MAN OF THE YEAR: MCA Records promo exec Billy Brill, asked why he got into the record business, explained: “Since I was Jewish, I couldn’t be a gym teacher--I didn’t look good in short pants and a whistle.”

CONTRACT CLAUSE OF THE YEAR: When Harper & Row signed the Grateful Dead’s Mickey Hart to write a new opus called “Drumming on the Edge of Magic,” the publishing house had to agree to a “tree clause” in Hart’s book contract stipulating that Harper & Row plant a pair of saplings in a needy rain forest for every tree used to provide paper for the book.

GRAMMY BEST NEW ARTIST OF THE YEAR: To Mrs. Gooch’s meat counter store clerk Mick Rechtien, who crooned the National Anthem to pop diva Sinead O’Connor (after she’d refused to allow “The Star-Spangled Banner” to be performed before a concert in New Jersey). Rechtien was subsequently fired for harassing her.

WACKO OF THE YEAR: As always, to Michael Jackson, who was one of many showbiz luminaries to appear in the documentary, “Listen Up: The Lives of Quincy Jones,” but the only one to insist that his interview be filmed completely in the dark. (His interviewer is shown holding a flashlight on her list of questions.)

QUOTE OF THE YEAR: John Connors, a Chicago-based vocalist who makes a living doing Frank Sinatra vocal impressions, admitted: “I’ve always thought that I sounded much more like Frank Sinatra Jr. than I do his father. But is there a market for a Frank Sinatra Jr. impersonator? I don’t think so.”

SEPARATED AT BIRTH, PART ONE: Perhaps because they both wear dreadlock-style hairdos, Lenny Kravitz is sometimes mistaken for Ziggy Marley, son of the late reggae legend Bob Marley. (Lenny’s father is a TV producer named Sy Kravitz.) Sure enough, when Lenny was walking the beach in the Bahamas this year, he was approached by an excited fan, who told him: “You know, your father was such an inspiration. He meant so much to me--he was the greatest!” Lenny eyed the fan and said, “Sy? “

SEPARATED AT BIRTH, PART TWO: In a pop round-up piece, GQ Magazine ran a picture of Bob Mould but identified the thrash-rocker in the caption as being country songstress k.d. lang.

POP EVANGELIST OF THE YEAR: MCA Records president Richard Palmese, asked why he gave up studying for the priesthood to join the record industry, explained: “I found it was easier to convince people a song was a hit . . . than convince them that there was a God.”

BEACH BOYS FAN OF THE YEAR: Just before he died earlier this year, Andy, “Doonesbury’s” wisecracking AIDS patient, scrawled these words on a scrap of paper: “Brian Wilson is God!” To which his doctor responded: “Oh, he must have heard the ‘Pet Sounds’ CD.”

OVER-ENTHUSIASTIC CENSOR OF THE YEAR: The Pacific Northwest-based record store chain, Meyer Music Markets, slapped an objectionable lyrics warning sticker on Frank Zappa’s “Jazz From Hell” album, despite the fact that it was an all-instrumental disc.

MATHEMATICIANS OF THE YEAR: Motown Records staged its “Motown 30” birthday celebration this fall, even though the record label’s lavish 25th anniversary special took place in . . . 1983.

IMPOSTERS OF THE YEAR: Milli Vanilli. Need we say more?

LISTENING PARTY OF THE YEAR: Arista chief Clive Davis’ lavish October bash in the Grand Ballroom at New York’s Regency Hotel, where 200 guests were forced to sit in folding chairs and listen to every track of the new Whitney Houston album, complete with gushing introductions for each song from Davis himself.

I.Q. OF THE YEAR: Accused of hiding subliminal messages in his songs that drove two youths to suicide, Judas Priest guitarist K. K. Downing told the press after leaving the courtroom one day: “I didn’t know what a subliminal message was until this case came up. It’ll be another 10 years before I can even spell subliminal.”