Meryl Streep recently starred in Florence Foster Jenkins as the real-life Manhattan heiress who thought she had enough vocal talent to headline Carnegie Hall. She turned out to be the most wretched singer in the recorded history of opera.
Sadly, Jenkins isn't a rarity. The music biz is glutted with subpar vocalists with overgrown egos who believed the world simply had to hear their voice on a record.
As we prepare re-watch Florence Foster Jenkins (out digitally on Nov. 29 and on Blu-ray/DVD on Dec. 13), here's a look at six other famous lousy-larynx vocalists who tried to get us to buy their albums.
Deion Sanders
In 1994, months after signing a $35 million deal with the Dallas Cowboys, Neon Deion released his first and thankfully only studio album, Prime Time. Capitol Records promoted the record, but to no avail: DJs took one listen to Sanders' flat-as-a-flounder voice and flung the disc in the garbage faster than a Troy Aikman bullet pass.
The Shaggs
Pop's greatest example of the so-bad-it-might-be-good aesthetic, the Shaggs were a short-lived trio of extremely untalented New Hampshire sisters, led by off-key lead singer Dorothy "Dot" Wiggin. Excruciating to listen to, Philosophy of the World (1969) gradually became a cult classic: Frank Zappa jokingly declared the Shaggs "better than the Beatles," which became the title of a 2001 Shaggs tribute album.
Meta World Peace
In 2006, back when the NBA star was still known as Ron Artest, he released My World, a hip-hop album in which his voice was highly processed and mercifully drenched in thick production. Fans didn't realize exactly how bad a singer he really was until someone released a home-video of him butchering Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On."
John Ashcroft
In 1998, the Missouri Senator and future U.S. Attorney General released the album Let Freedom Sing with the Singing Senators, a quartet featuring three other Republican politicos. But Ashcroft's chief crime against music came in the early 2000s with "Let the Eagle Soar," a cornball ballad he wrote and sang in a quavering, melodramatic baritone. For maximum laughs, watch the video of him singing "Eagle" (above) followed by the unsanctioned "Oh Sweet Evil" remix clip (below) featuring backwards vocals.
Manny Pacquiao
When he's not punching dudes or being a Senator of the Phillippines, the welterweight champion of the world keeps busy by crooning love ballads in a dry, colorless tenor. He's released several albums and singles, including versions of Dan Hill's schlock classic "Sometimes When We Touch" and George Benson's "Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You." Pac-Man may be a hell of a boxer, but he's clearly not much of a singer.
Mae West
When she was in her 70s, "The Statue of Libido" tried in vain to record a series of suggestive rock songs, including "Great Balls of Fire" and "Shakin' All Over." The low point arrived in her trembly delivery of The Doors' "Light My Fire." Luckily, Jim Morrison never had to hear it -- West's version came out in 1972, shortly after he died.
Thor Christensen is a Dallas writer and critic. Email him at thorchris2@yahoo.com.
