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The Knack: Why Were They Knuked?

In the words of Homer Simpson, The Knack’s 1979 classic My Sharona is “a pop music footnote”; it has endured the test of time (mostly): you can still catch it on the airwaves, in movies, or on TV. In short, it’s well remembered.
Often derided as a one-hit wonder, it’s a curious relic of another time: just before the end of Disco, but out of step with the sounds the 80s were about to bring.
Even more forgotten is the huge backlash this power pop band caused, not all of it provoked by themselves.
Merch against the group ( “Knuke The Knack”) might not have been as big as “Disco Sucks”, but it was a close second in terms of reactionary slogans.
At this point, you might wonder why. Was it religious backlash caused by their suggestive lyrics? Was it feminist backlash rooted in…well, their suggestive lyrics?
That might have been part of it, but it all started with a comparison they didn’t make, and didn’t want: being compared with the Fab Four.
“My Sharona” came up during an interesting transition period: it was the tail end of the Disco era. Then, there was Punk, which went back to some basic roots, against the pomposity of the hit parade.
Calling The Knack a “middle ground” between those two points might be a little overblown: they were a commercial, mainstream-sounding band. They weren’t particularly rebellious or subversive. They did possess some “in-your-face” attitude. But basically, they were a nice power pop band with a little bit of a rock paint job.
Rolling Stone called them the “Neo Beatles”, and that’s a crown not everybody was ready to let them wear.
Despite the initial success, a combination of aggressive promotion, overexposure, and seemingly out-of-context comparisons was the perfect conditions to brew a backlash.
San Francisco artist Hugh Brown decided to take the matter into his own hands with the “Knuke The Knack” campaign. In the 2004 documentary Getting The Knack, he stated, “They were so over-hyped, I thought I’ll do something that’s kind of obnoxious and kind of funny. Then it just snowballed.”
It grew out of control from there, with shirts and buttons featuring the slogan. This backlash was eclipsed by the infamous Disco Demolition Night that same year, but the campaign had accomplished its objective: the damage to The Knack’s image was something from which they’d never completely recover.
The band technically had another song chart on Billboard from their debut. “Good Girls Don’t” reached as high as number 11 but failed to keep momentum and was pretty soon forgotten.
This was only the beginning of their downward spiral. Their next album, …But The Little Girls Understand, was released in February of 1980. While it reached Gold status, it was a clear decline on almost all fronts: panned by critics, underperforming in sales, and only two singles making it anywhere in the charts (and in low places). It felt their moment in the Sun was over. Their next record, Round Trip from 1981, did even worse, and the band broke up soon after the release, reuniting occasionally (with new members) to play the nostalgia circuit.
Depending on who you ask, The Knack was a stillborn that lost any chance to truly stand out, and never got any real opportunity to live up to their hype.
Even in the best scenario possible, The Knack would never have been a Beatles-sized phenomenon. With a more realistic outlook, however, they might’ve been seen as more than just a One-Hit Wonder. No one can deny how vibrant and impactful “My Sharona” was; no wonder that, for months, some fans believed The Knack could eventually be “that” big.
-Anthony Arrieta
Photo: Getty Images
Great band-another dozen great tracks-Feiger’s voice-faced Beatle backlash
And Weird Al’s version “My Bologna” was the first thing I ever heard from him (on the Dr Demento show). And he’s still around!
My perspective is different. I had just graduated from high school in the summer of 1979 when “My Sharona” hit. I listened to the “Get The Knack” album incessantly for months and found it completely aligned with other music trends like The Cars and the “Over The Edge” soundtrack as disco had reached over saturation to me and my friends. It was fresh and exciting and a little titillating too without being menacing. I remember eagerly buying their second album and being massively disappointed. Stupidly, the label (Capitol) released the redundant “Baby Talks Dirty” as the first single, thinking the fans wanted a complete rehash of “My Sharona”. We didn’t. It came across as the same formulaic stuff that we’d experienced when people my age were in elementary school and got fed a series of bubblegum songs that copied each other. (Examples: Ohio Express following up Yummy Yummy Yummy with Chewy Chewy, or the Archies following up Sugar Sugar with Jingle Jangle.)
Then after the lack of success of Baby Talks Dirty, the label went to the opposite sound of Can’t Put A Price On Love. It was sappy and weak. If the label had instead promoted Tell Me You’re Mine as at least one of the two singles (preferably the first), the band could have avoided being pigeonholed as a flameout. They were much better than the label allowed them to be.