Saying I know nothing about pop is not strictly true. Pop gets through - like the cockroach. Here are some titles that did (and why).
All Of Me. Took on new dimension in ballroom dancing sequence by Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin during credits of eponymous movie
The House of The Rising Sun. Friend, hearing this on a pub jukebox said, “Pwoah, it’s almost like classical music.” That stuck.
Both Sides Now. Heard it sung by Bob Dylan; searching for its identity I referred to it as "Dylan’s cloud song"; months elapsed before I discovered its true name and its creator (Joni Mitchell).
Ode To Billie Joe. This stuck because of its plethora of multi-syllabic words (McCallister, Tallahachee).
Heartbreak Hotel. Loathed Elvis but couldn’t escape a parody by Stan Freberg
Kermit’s Song. Revelation to hear it sung by Frank Sinatra.
American Pie. String of non-sequiturs sung as if it meant something.
The Band Played Waltzing Matilda. Requested on BBC3’s intellectual version of Desert Island Discs called Private Passions. Presenter, Michael Berkeley, composes posh music. Excellent anti-war song.
Rio (Duran Duran). Price one pays for having teenage daughters
Let It Snow (Dean Martin). Didn’t make any impression until I heard it used comically at the end of Die Hard movie.
The Shoals Of Herring (Ewan MacColl). Folk singing striving uncomfortably to be folksy.
Born In The USA. Unavoidable; like the passage of a lorry. Privately re-titled The Hernia Song.
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. Drawn to it by it… well, its title.
Summer Holiday. Eternally memorable as a yardstick of British pop’s wetness.
Ferry ‘cross The Mersey. Eternally memorable for celebrating lack of geographical ambition.