The Pop Corporation

One hit wonders get a lot of hate, thanks in part to being overplayed, and usually, because they’re catchy bubblegum tracks that land in the middle of supposed credible music, for which they’re unfavourably compared.

And so, to 1998 and Britpop has moved to one side in favour of Landfill Indie, and Massive Attack emerge as one of the most claustrophobic music makers after some years of dreamy, dubby trip-hop. Skate Punk is opening the door for Nu Metal, and hip hop has gone from the club to the stadium.

Google is founded, Napster is making everyone in the music industry have cold sweats in the night, and people are watching Titanic and Shakespeare In Love down the local cinema. Amongst all this, the New Radicals release ‘You Get What You Give’ and it becomes an all conquering smash.

In the States, those not listening to DMX were besieged by a bunch of lumpy Grunge groups as execs scrabbled for a new disaffected voice for sulks in plaid shirts, but Seaweed and Jawbreaker weren’t troubling the Billboard charts like that, instead, vaguely alternative meme songs from Smash Mouth and Matchbox 20 seemed to be holding sway in their place.

Rock music was losing steam to hip hop, R&B and pop which felt glittery and hedonistic, while alternative rock had either disappeared up it’s own moping arse, or worse, become beige.

Elliot Smith’s introspective music scratched an itch for those in need of a troubled soul, and for the sarcastic, Ben Folds gave a sardonic singer-songwriter twist on things. These were both very much album makers though, as the charts found a spate of one-hitters like ‘Steal My Sunshine’, Semisonic, ‘Teenage Dirtbag’, and ‘Drinking in LA’,

However, ‘You Get What You Give’ was different. For starters, it was Power Pop. It somehow managed to be Anglophile AND the most American thing on the radio, despite being Canadian.

It sounded optimistic, which was at odds with the malaise of rock radio at the time, and yet, Gregg Alexander’s cheerful pop was cut with a huge dollop of cynicism that meant it was scratching a number of itches for all manner of record buyers.

In the face of a lot of posturing and cooler-than-thou nonsense, the New Radicals were goofy as hell, with the main honcho covering half of his face with a bucket hat, giving us a song that sounded like it shared more with all the great teen movies that came out during this period, rather than trying to hang out with the cool bands backstage.

And yet, there’s so many fun little details in the song, that it feels like the product of Nick Lowe, XTC, Squeeze, Todd Rundgren, the Go Gos, Emett Rhodes, Wings, The Bangles, B52s, and a raft of awkward pop lovers that defied neat cataloguing.

And so, to being a one-hit wonder with a difference – like Gotye’s ‘Somebody That I Used To Know’ – they just didn’t want anymore hits. They dutifully opted out, having completed enough to satisfying whatever contracts that were in place. In the case of Alexander, he broke the band up just before the release of the single that followed up his enormo-hit.

And any accusations that he might have called quits on the whole thing because he’d fluked a hit were put to bed as he wrote massive hits for others, namely ‘Life Is A Rollercoaster’ and ‘Murder On The Dancefloor’.

All the while, the refrain of the song was jarringly optimistic. While the brag and violence of rap prevailed, and the nihilistic jock rock urged you to think everyone sucked, the New Radicals sang: “when the night is falling, you cannot find the light. You feel your dreams are dying – hold tight – you’ve got the music in you.”

That’s a perfect pop sentiment.

And yet, with a perfect pop song, there should be some subversive elements, and by the time we get to the spoken section at the close, we’re on the dancefloor while being serenaded with “health insurance, rip off, lying” and the FDA and big banks, adding the infamous riposte “Courtney Love and Marilyn Manson – you’re all fakes – run to your mansions; come around, we’ll kick your asses!”

There’s a reason that this is a song that’s endured where a number of other one-hitters haven’t. It’s got the anthemic feel of The Waterboys ‘The Whole Of The Moon’, the runaway teen rush of Springsteen, the joyful eruption of Motown, the psychedelic pop of The Beatles, Gen X cynicism, and the hooks of peak Wham! – it seems that those who hate it, ain’t it. Green Day had ditched the punk for acoustic guitars, Offspring were basically a cartoon, electronic music was either complex or breezy, and marketing companies and MTV felt like the same thing, repurposing rock into slush, and here, and one-and-done energetic Power Pop hit that turned the camera around, talked about the world at large, as well as offering a shot of genuine hope.

It’s a song that stormed the gates, did what needed to be done, told us to “wake up” from the “dreamer’s disease” and left us to it to sift through the bits.

It’s obvious why this song has stuck around for so long. It’s a high watermark in cross genre pop.