Finding AC Music's Comfort Zone
By Louis Jordan | September 11, 2020
My new favorite game is to inoculate against snobbery by exposing myself to music and movies I used to have contempt for. Sometimes, I’ll discover I’ve been missing out. Sometimes, I was right all along. My latest challenge was late 80s / early 90s Adult Contemporary music. When I was younger, I loathed these songs. When they came on the radio, I would turn the station. They set my teeth on edge. I dismissed them as background music for doctor’s waiting rooms and supermarkets. I didn’t want anything to do with this sappy, drippy, lame music. I was EDGY. And COOL. (Thank god I outgrew that.)
From about 1988-1992—after new wave but before grunge—there was a golden age of sentimental ballads and twinkling keyboards. After grunge hit, America felt the need to dress their romance up in flannel and R&B-lite beats, but for those few years, pure, hardcore schmaltz reigned.
It’s a specific, identifiable style—imagine the pop versions of 90s Disney songs. There’s a reason for that instantly recognizable sound: the Electric Piano 1 preset on the Yamaha DX7 synthesizer. The DX7 was the first widely used synth in history, every musician had one, but almost none learned how to program it. Instead, most 80s pop was built around a small collection of the instrument’s factory presets. E PIANO 1, with its bell-like purity and long, sweet reverb, became the defining sound of Adult Contemporary music. Almost every AC hit during that time period used it. It’s practically a Pavlovian cue: one note and you know epic romance and heartache are on their way.
So, I started listening to all the major Adult Contemporary hits from the late 80s and early 90s. I intentionally sought out ones that made me cringe and forced myself to listen to them all the way through. Michael Bolton wasn’t easy at first, neither was Celine Dion or Roxette. I listened to Kenny G, for god’s sake. But I was committed. I would sit with this music until I understood why it embarrassed me so much.
In the middle of a pandemic, I had plenty of time. I listened at home, while exercising, even at the supermarket, gripped with anxiety that someone might hear “Wind Beneath My Wings” wafting from my headphones. As the days went on, I discovered a surprising amount of variety in AC music: traditional AC like Bette Midler or Celine Dion, rock-inflected power ballads by Heart or Bryan Adams, and Quiet Storm—AC blended with R&B and smooth jazz—defined by Anita Baker.
The song that sent me down this rabbit hole was “Save the Best for Last” by Vanessa Williams. I don’t remember how I came across it, but as I listened, I realized that I genuinely loved this song. The longing lyrics, the classic melody, Vanessa’s swooning vocal—no irony was required to appreciate this kind of perfection.
The album it comes from is named, appropriately, The Comfort Zone. That’s what these songs provide. Comfort. It’s that moment in a romantic comedy when the strings come in and you start welling up. You know you’re being emotionally manipulated, but that’s why you came here in the first place. You’ve had a tough day and you need a good cry.
By the end of my week of schmaltz, I’d realized that many of the AC songs I used to scoff at are actually beautifully written and performed by some of the greatest voices of their time: Whitney Houston, Linda Ronstadt, Luther Vandross. More importantly, I realized that signifiers of coolness don’t make a good song—just like signifiers of kitsch don’t make a bad one. How could I have turned up my nose at talents like James Ingram or Laura Branigan just because their music was a little overproduced? Even Michael Bolton, the embodiment of everything cool rock guys loathed, isn’t that bad.
Ultimately, my real reason for disliking these songs was rooted in sexism. Adult Contemporary is mostly performed by and consumed by women. Romantic music and films that women enjoy are considered “sappy,” while action movies and aggressive music are “badass.” Masculine feelings are seen as valid, but feminine feelings are at best silly and at worst contemptible. There’s a double standard. For every male-driven band like Pearl Jam writing brooding songs seen as respectable art, there’s an Amy Grant, taken less seriously and regarded as a woman “just singing about love.”
During the 90s, Michael Bolton and Kenny G were always the butt of jokes. I used to think they were just being mocked because their music was bad. Now I think it’s because their music was too feminine. I hated AC songs because I was afraid that if I let myself like them, someone would mock me for the same reason.
I’m glad I’ve finally allowed myself to enjoy Adult Contemporary, because lord knows I need some comfort during this pandemic. Listening to Vanessa Williams has been doing me more good than any “badass” rock band ever could.
Explore More of THE MUSIC FROM THIS ARTICLE
Listen to a set of 80s and 90s AC tracks handpicked by the author. Spin this new Pop Trash Museum Spotify playlist, The Comfort Zone: Best of Adult Contemporary.
Louis Jordan is an NYC-based writer, archivist and movie maven. Varda his bona eek on Instagram.