I heard Gallagher on the radio a while back bitching about Comedy Central’s “top 100 comics of all time” countdown. He was number 100.His grievances were not with his ranking, but rather with what he considered to be various irregularities in the voting procedure, that may have, he feared, tainted the integrity of the list. Did I forget mention that this was “COMEDY CENTRALS BEST 100 COMICS OF ALL TIME”? I thought so. I mean it’s not exactly the academy awards or the Nobel Prize. It’s not even of a Billboard Music Award caliber.
     My first thought upon hearing this sad, bitter little rant was, “Whatever GALLAGER, why don’t you go smash a watermelon or something?” I may have even said it out loud, and to no one in particular.
     But then I felt bad. Why was I being so hard on Gallagher?  I have seen a few of Gallagher’s comedy specials, (not that special) so I know quite well that there is more to his act than swinging an oversized mallet at unsuspecting produce.
     This reminded me of what I like to call, “THE ONE HIT WONDER PARADOX”.
     This is best illustrated by example. Conjure up in your mind some young, fairly creative cadre of musicians, although it should be noted that this works just as well with comedians, actors, or just about anyone working in any of the economically lucrative creative arts, (that means no mimes, graffiti artists, people who make sculpture from their excrement, etc…)
     These musicians are artists and take their business seriously. They are driven, have a fair verity of material ranging from mediocre to excellent, and due to much dues paying and touring and sacrifice, find themselves in a position of modest success, consisting of a loyal fan base, at least a fairly consistent schedule of gigs, unusual or ironic silk screened tee-shirts, and maybe even a bright-if-under-realized first album. (I know that this does not apply to ALL One Hits, sometimes PASS THE DOUCHIE is all you have. I am not referring to artists of the ‘I have one successful project then implode due to a terminal lack of creativity’ variety. THIS MEANS YOU, CARROT TOP.).
     Lets say that this band has one song that, for whatever reason, gets picked up on by the ever fickle music consuming population, and becomes WILDLY FAMOUS. Perhaps the song is gimmicky, or especially commercial, or maybe just well timed, it doesn’t matter. For whatever reason it just takes off.
     Now this band is super-mega-popular. Billboard popular. Platinum popular. Fragrance Popular.  They are now so omnipresent that now 80 or 90% of the people that like the band know them from that song. For the band, all is right and just in the world. The band is doing well. They are now playing arenas instead of small clubs. The money is much better. They are knee deep in hookers and cocaine. Life is good.      But what is not know to them at that time, their finest hour, is that in this their moment of greatest triumph, they have presented with the following situation: By what factor can they introduce the largest number of these notoriously transitory fans, to the rest of their material? How do they free themselves from their hit?
     It is a gargantuan task. If they cannot do this, then they are doomed to a career of having to dispassionately trot out that one song (OR SMASH THAT GOD DAMNED WATERMALLON) that the whole crowd came to see (minus the remaining members of the loyal fan base, as they will follow them to their graves and beyond, and discuss the tiniest details of their work an message boards for all eternity. They are my people, and I love them,) every time they play anywhere. It is a life of luke warm audiences and boat shows and county fairs, rib-fests and obscurity, Where Are They Now VH1 specials and of half empty amphitheaters at the state fair. If they are lucky. They will have never broken away from the song, and getting crowds to accept anything else at that point is nearly impossible. Their job has become to try to get them to hear the rest of their material by stalling out the crowd for as long as possible before giving them the decade flashback they came for. Every show has become like putting a dogs vitamin in with its food.
   It’s kind of sad really. Most of these artists can’t do it. They get too wrapped up in money, or break up, or get distracted and spend years trying to catch up. They miss that one opportunity to diversify. Some comedians will forever be tied to that one bit, no matter what they do. Jeff Foxworthy will be telling red neck jokes until his last hillbilly gasp. Rodney Dangerfield wasn’t getting any respect right up till his moment of his death. He still had to say that line during EVERY SHOW, and you can’t tell me he didn’t choke on it, just a little bit. Devo, no matter how cool and brilliant they are, will always be known as “that Whip It band.”