#'70s

In this latter group is the oeuvre of Tony Orlando. If you've ever been subjected to "Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Ole Oak Tree"—which, of all songs in the known universe, has been selected by the vox pop to remember MIA/POWs—you've been exposed, as with poison oak and genital herpes, to his work.

Today, we're discussing his second big hit and first no. 1, when his group was still known as "Dawn," rather than "Tony Orlando and Dawn": "Knock Three Times."

I won't link to it here because I'm a responsible and considerate person. Instead, here are some of the lyrics: Hey girl, whatcha doing down there Dancin' alone every night while I live right above you? I can hear your music playing I can feel your body swaying One floor below me, you don't even know me, I love you

[Chorus] Oh, my darling, Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me Woah-oh, twice on the pipe If the answer is no (I love you, I love you, I love you) Oh, my sweetness (*knock*, *knock*, *knock*) Means you'll meet me in the hallway Mmm-mmm, twice on the pipe (*clang*, *clang*) Means you ain't gonna show If you look out your window tonight Pull in the string with the note that's attached to my heart Read how many times I saw you How in my silence I adored you And only in my dreams did that wall between us come apart

Woah-oh indeed. So, what can we say about this ditty, penned, as was "Tie a Yellow Ribbon…," "Candida" (Dawn's first big hit), and the really astonishingly shit "Say, Has Anybody Seen My Sweet Gypsy Rose," by the song-extruding team of Irwin Levine and L. Russell Brown?

It's a super-creepy stalker's hymn to his obsession? Yes. It's a pathetic incel plea for validation? True. It doesn't make sense within the twisted mindscape of the singer? Of course. Because how the flying fuck would this poor woman even know that this repellent incel has this love code, given that, as the motherfucking song itself says, "You don't even know me"?

Now, the trope of the obsessive love by a man for a woman, known or unknown, is an enduring one in U.S. pop history, going back to the days of Tin Pan Alley. The theme of indomitable love in the face of rejection, or even utter ignorance, of the afflicted lover shows up time and again, sung by a man, who if he perseveres and "chases" his, for lack of a better word, prey long enough will exhaust her to the point where she'll capitulate and agree to be wooed, wed, and chained to the creepy singing cunt for all eternity.

And, so, this song has a long and disturbing lineage. However, even if it had, singly and uniquely, sprung fully formed from the ass of Zeus, one would have to question its skin-crawling lyrics. A woman who is completely unaware of her upstairs neighbor's burning obsession with her is being called "my darling" and "my sweetness" by him, is being told that he looks at her ceaselessly ("how many times I saw you") and that an elaborate romantic narrative, complete with a plan for interaction known only to him, has been constructed about her by this stranger ("how in my silence I adored you" is just…Christ, are you going to wear a shirt made of her skin?).

How does the singer even know she's "dancin' alone," her "body swaying"? He doesn't. He can only hear her music and sweatily imagine what she is doing, what she looks like, how she smells, and whatever else incels conjure up about the object of their obsession.

So, in sum, even for a career marked by a short burst of bad-even-for-the-'70s hits; a feculent TV variety show that replaced Sonny and Cher's l'enfer, c'est les autres TV variety show, which featured 11 writers and not a single decent joke; and then a long career in, of course, Las Vegas and Branson, Missouri, where creativity and culture, if an individual had ever even manifested them, are knocked on the head and buried in potter's field, this is a low point.