Boiled down to its essential ingredients, pop music is a genre revolving around easily-digestible hooks. The Beatles didn’t get by on their instrumental chops. Madonna’s voice didn’t land her on the top of the charts. And Cassie’s dance skills sure as hell didn’t play any role in her musical accomplishments. Pop aficionados demand musical sugar—soy products don’t usually fly.

“American Idol”—and its prominent supporter, Sony BMG’s Clive Davis—have always tried to be music’s Willy Wonka. Each year, they host a highly-popular TV show that features potential pop stars as they sing sugary pop songs, dress in pop clothes and perform with pop bravado. Occasionally, “Idol”/Davis finds the ideal pop star, as with Season One’s Kelly Clarkson. Why did Clarkson win? Sure, her cute personality carried her along, but for the most part, Clarkson captured the title because of her powerful voice, which wowed judges week after week.

While Clarkson won a TV show because of her rich tone, she became a pop star for a completely different reason: top-notch songwriting. Her first single, “A Moment Like This,” was a highly-saturated soft pop track. Listeners ate it up, and it reached number one. Clarkson’s sophomore album, the hook-filled Breakaway, produced similarly stunning results. The album itself went multi-platinum, and almost all of the singles landed somewhere in the top ten. None of those songs really showcased Clarkson’s powerful pipes, the instrument that garnered her a record deal; instead, they all relied on great production and memorable choruses. See, up until now, Clarkson’s voice has always been on the backburner while her producers have been on the forefront, cooking up hot special after hot special.

Davis probably expected more of the same when he first listened to Clarkson’s latest record, My December. But the record took him by surprise and not the good kind either. Instead, it was probably like ordering a $25 plate and finding that the meat was seasoned with some powerful, odd spice, the kind that only appeals to a small percentage of the dining population.

It’s really not surprising that Clive Davis openly despised My December. As he knows, hits don’t happen without hooks, and My December isn’t exactly filled with infectious melodies. It’s a personal record (Clarkson had a hand in every song) that’s probably not going to win over the people it should (nu-rock fans, Evanescence addicts). It’s made for a certain demographic, one that Clarkson’s past work hasn’t really touched. When you’ve spent five years as reigning pop queen, it’s hard to earn the respect of the rock crowd, even if—as in Clarkson’s case—the music merits the admiration.

So, Davis knew she was in trouble. And if we’re talking numbers, then he’s right. The leadoff single, “Never Again,” peaked at number eight on the pop charts and has since steadily declined. The album debuted behind the Hannah Montana 2 soundtrack, which must have been the ultimate blow to Clarkson, a singer who was once worshipped by that same Radio Disney crowd. Even sadder, Clarkson actually has a recognizable name; she was pretty much guaranteed a great spot on the charts, while Miley Cyrus mostly appeals to cable TV fans.

But if you listen to “Never Again,” it makes sense why My December didn’t go over well with listeners. Essentially, it’s an anti-pop song. Rather than relying on a catchy chorus, it hinges on a raw, angst-filled vocal. It’s like an Alanis Morissette album track but with soul. It’s a powerful statement but not an infectious one. It’s the musical equivalent of Cayenne Pepper, but pop radio wants mild Jalapeño powder. Did Clarkson ruin her career with her ultra-spicy product? Probably not, but if she did, she at least earned some cred along the way.

See, for music fans, it’s always exciting when an established artist uses her stature to release something semi-abstract. Clarkson is just one example. Over 35 years ago, Gladys Knight pushed the same anti-pop sentiments with “If I Were Your Woman.”

In 1970, Knight and the Pips were already successful recording artists; with their tight harmonies and memorable singles, they served up a number of hits in the pop charts, with some occasionally breaking the top 10. But unlike their biggest singles (“Heard It Through the Grapevine,” “Every Beat of My Heart”), “If I Were Your Woman” wasn’t a track to hum-along with…it was a song to shout.

There’s a lot going on in the track—strings, horns, drums, guitars—but the most important element is Gladys’ sultry voice. Like “Never Again,” Knight’s vocal performance is extremely believable; throughout the song, she sounds ridiculously desperate and soulful. “You’re like a diamond,” she says, “but she treats you like glass. Yet you beg her to love you, but me you don’t ask?” Strings and horns accentuate Knight’s most poignant lines, but for the most part, she completely outshines the instrumentation. It’s a song that makes a statement, and it’s that statement that’s staying in your head, not the melody.

“If I Were Your Woman” reached #9 on the pop charts, which is somewhat surprising. Its strength is not in its hook; it’s in Knight’s emotional delivery. It’s classic anti-pop, an occasional movement for which we should all be thankful.

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