Before we start trotting off down this path like sniggering student arseholes in hilariously slogan-ed Topman T-shirts, and second hand Reebok Pump, let’s get one thing straight: nothing can ever be so bad it’s good. That would just make it really bad. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen you wearing Aztec-patterned 90s jumpsuits and your mum’s jumper she bought from the Caravan and Camping Show at the N.E.C. in 1994 like it aint no thing. Well, good luck de-tagging all those Facebook pictures in five years time when you’re trying to secure that glorious mid-level position in IT.

Today: really cool.

Tomorrow: ridicule.

But you can’t delete the past, because the Internet knows what you did last summer.

You see, kitsch is the worst kind of tendency, based on the worst kind of impulses: snobbery, cowardice, fake nostalgia, self-consciousness. It’s all surface, no feeling; play acting, with a heart made of hole. If I sound like a metal fan, then so be it. And fashion aside, music is perhaps the biggest showground for ironic hipster posturing.  Zeitgeist chasing fashion mags and thick-rimmed be-glassed dilettantes have been all over Black Metal for years, because hahaha, they burned down a church and stabbed a gay man to death. Those naughty Vikings are so cute!  Great. Hilarious. Well done. But excuse me if I don’t buy you a fruit basket, because I know you secretly wank yourself to sleep to Pigeon Detectives’ second album.

But somewhere in between the music that people pretend to like and the music that soundtracks nocturnal self-love sessions, there’s an unchartered territory of forgotten madness where really stupid albums go to die. It’s a Pandora’s box of grizzly treasures, populated by the Frankenstein cast-offs of Hall of Fame regulars history has chosen to forget. It’s easy to think of The Ramones, The Beach Boys et al as inspired pioneers when you’re still crushed out on Rocket To Russia or Surfs Up or whatever, ten years after you first heard them. But guess what? Musicians can be fucking stupid. That’s why the retards are in bands and not fixing you’re plumbing or driving an ambulance. Be thankful that God invented music.

These albums shouldn’t be considered ironic or kitsch, but instead exactly what they are: strange, pointless and utterly misguided. Who knew that excessive fame, mental illness, copious amounts of drugs and even more sex could transform sacred cows into Kenny the retarded white tiger

Dee Dee King – Standing In The Spotlight (1989)

The best thing about The Ramones is that they didn’t let a little thing like being rubbish at music get in the way of writing great songs. It’s a shame, then that Dee Dee King AKA Dee Dee Ramone didn’t apply that same logic to his attempts at recording a hip hop record.  The Queen of Shit Rap, Debbie Harry even guests on opening track “Mashed Potato Time” and the collective result is something akin to a washed up smack head missing the boat and point so hard that he produces a record white enough to make Asher Roth seem black (almost).  Some of this is in German.

Best song title: “Commotion In The Ocean”
Sample lyric: “A lesson out of this, I am not a fish”

Brian Wilson/Beach Boys – Mount Vernon and Fairway (A Fairy Tale)/Holland (1973)

You know how it is. You’re an ailing boy band who haven’t had a hit for years, and your chief songwriter is off somewhere making instruments out of vegetables. You’ve got to think of something fast. Moving to Holland to record an album seems like a logical idea. No, a great idea.  And don’t forget those inspired song titles: “Funky Pretty”, “California Saga: The Beaks of Eagles” and “California Saga: California” (well, duh!). But what’s that? Brian’s back and he’s been writing and recording new material?  AT LAST:

“Hey you guys, I got these songs and they’re the best thing I’ve ever done”.

“That’s great Brian, let’s hear them.”

“Well, you see, it’s actually one song that’s seven songs, and I don’t sing on them, and it’s based on the concept of a magic transistor radio, and I narrate them in the voice of Mr Hanky The Christmas Poo, and it’s really great, but there’s no music really, but it’s great, really great…”

“We’ll release it as a bonus EP, OK”

Best song title: “I’m The Pied Piper”
Sample lyric:  “Then the transistor left his hands, and was floating in the mid-air, two feet off the ground”

Neil Young – Trans (1982)

Just like Nicholas Lyndhurst in Goodnight Sweetheart, in 2001 Neil Young seemingly found a portal that lead back to 1982, and decided to take Discovery by Daft Punk with him. There he is with a vocoder and stetson, like Yul Brynner in Westworld, getting all scared about love in the digital age, and weeping big oily robot tears.

It’s true that Neil Young wrote After The Goldrush and Harvest Moon, and well done for that. Good effort. But it’s also true that Neil Young wrote an album about computer cowboys and transformer men with a picture of TRON on the front and a heart on the back that looks like it was drawn to be used as a still, in a Phil Collins video, in the late 80s. You’d do well to remember that later this year when his concept album about electric cars is released.

Best song title: “Computer Cowboy (AKA Syscrusher)”

Sample lyric: “Hair: blonde, Eyes: blue, Weight: 110, Disposition: even, Mood Code: rotary adjustable”

Kevin Rowland - My Beauty (1999)

A middle aged Brummie in drag, singing Motown and Beatles songs on Creation Records – how could it fail? Because it was a middle aged Brummie in drag, singing Motown and Beatles songs on Creation Records. It sold about three copies. Evidence, if ever any was needed, that Alan McGee deserves Oasis, cocaine is worse for black culture than Hurricane Katrina, and mental illness should not be paraded on stage at Reading festival in tights.

Best song title: “I Can’t Tell The Bottom From The Top” (I’m afraid we can, Kev)
Sample lyric: “They can’t take away my dignity” (I’m afraid you did, Kev)

Bruce Springsteen – MTV Plugged (1992)

I’m Bruce Springsteen. I’m The Boss. That’s what they call me: The. Boss. The B.O. double S. And y’know what, The Boss calls the shots. The Boss says what goes. And The Boss doesn’t do Unplugged, OK? Cross that ‘Un’ right out. The Boss don’t care if that contradicts the show’s remit. The Boss is boss and The Boss knows best. And if The Boss wants to lead a conga line at the end, then that’s what The Boss will do. OK? OK! Let’s go…

What do you mean it’s a limited edition, Japan-only import release?

Best song title: “I Wish I Were Blind”
Sample lyric: “
Well now, home entertainment was my baby’s wish, 
so I hopped into town for a satellite dish”

Honourable mentions:
Bob Dylan – Shots of Love
Duran Duran – Thank You
Leonard Cohen – Death Of A Ladies Man
Stevie Wonder – Journey Through The Secret Life of Plants