Most songs about parenthood are blithering pieces of mindless twaddle.  Artists who can dissect relationships with clear-eyed honesty and razor wit suddenly become goo-goo-eyed morons when writing about their child, filling verses with rainbows and unicorns and other such inanities.  Take, for example, the chorus of Kate Bush’s recent song about her son: “Lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely Bertie / Lovely, lovely, lovely.”  Oh, wait, I left out a “lovely.”  

It’s only slightly better when the artist sings about their parents.  Mothers turn out well because they’re, you know, nurturing, always there to apply a bandage to a boo-boo or soothe hurt feelings with a soft kiss on a forehead (though if they’re not nurturing, they’ll have John Lennon primal-screaming at them).  The bar is considerably lower for fathers, but they often fail to rise that high.  Though country singers often revere fathers for teaching them how to bait a hook or drive a pickup, many songs portray dads like in Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s in the Cradle:” too busy climbing the corporate ladder to take little Tommy out for a game of catch.  

Listen, a father’s love for his child should be unconditional, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.  Children can fill a parent with pride, but also exasperation.  They can be a drain on a parent’s time, finances and emotions.  You drive them to the mall or attend a ballet recital when you’d rather be home watching a ballgame because you’re obligated, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be some resentment.  Parenthood songs rarely address these contradictions; maybe they’re afraid their child will use the lyrics against them in therapy.

So, if you need a Father’s Day gift, put down that necktie that Dad won’t wear to his business-casual office, and stop working on that ceramic ashtray for the Dad who hasn’t smoked anything since his last frat party, and burn these 22 songs onto a CD.  Yes, there’s some sentimentality here, though vomit-inducing swill like “Butterfly Kisses” will be banished, but there will also be honesty and criticism, which makes the praise and sentiment seem more honestly earned.

I’ve listed some alternate choices at the end, but here’s my personal restrictions: Since I’m not questioning paternity, there’s no need for Kid Creole’s “Annie I’m Not Your Daddy.” (“If I was in your blood, then you wouldn’t be so ugly.” Oh no he didn’t!)   I thought about including Cole Porter’s “My Heart Belongs to Daddy,” until I actually listened to the song and suspected that he was referring to a sugar daddy.  After searching in vain for a relevant rap song, I decided to leave out Birdman & Lil Wayne’s “Stuntin’ Like My Daddy” because, well, because I have no idea what stuntin’ is, and I’m sure it’s something bad.  Eminem’s “’97 Bonnie & Clyde” is omitted because, while you’d love to bond with your child without the nagging spouse getting all up in your grille, I don’t think a knife, a boulder and some rope is the way to handle it.  As for the Doors’ “The End” (“Father, I want to kill you / Mother, I want to…”), let’s not even go there.  And if you feel the need to include “Lemon Incest,” Serge Gainsbourg’s, ahem, duet with his daughter, please cue up Aerosmith’s “Janie’s Got a Gun” and turn yourself in to the authorities. 

STEVIE WONDER:   Isn’t She Lovely:  Of course Dad is more ecstatic in the delivery room than Mom – he hasn’t spent the last several hours trying to push a bowling ball out of his vagina.  Wonder’s tune, from Songs in the Key of Life, is the best evocation of the pure joy at the miracle of birth.  Like many of Stevie’s songs, it goes on too long (6:34), but that’s OK, enjoy the moment, Stevie; you won’t be thinking her so lovely when her crying wakes you up at 2 a.m.  And 3 a.m.  And...oh, wait, I forgot, you’re a rock star, you have a nanny for those things.

FRANK SINATRA:  Nancy (With the Laughing Face): Let’s name the kid.  Not one of those wedgie-triggering, therapy-guaranteeing names like Apple or Dweezil or Kal-el, but a real, solid middle-America name. After all, this kid is going to spend her later years protecting Ol’ Blue-eyed Daddy’s legacy.  (Fun fact: the lyrics were written by Phil Silvers.  Yes, that Phil Silvers.  Not so fun fact: your kids have no idea who Phil Silvers was.)

TALKING HEADS:  Stay Up Late:  Oh, yeah, baby’s got siblings. They’re fascinated with baby’s “little pee-pee, little toes” and they want to play with him, even though he’s overdue for a nap, and Daddy’s been looking forward to a few minutes of peace.  The Heads classic portrays playing with the child as an act of control and manipulation.  Maybe instead of Little Creatures, they should have named the album Little Bastards.  

PAUL SIMON:  Beautiful:  In a rare song about adoption, over a lovely rhythm track, Simon’s narrator takes in “beautiful” children from Bangladesh and mainland China.   In the moving final verse, he adopts a difficult baby from Kosovo that “cried all night. Could not sleep.”  He’s “beautiful” too.  Yes, parental love should be unconditional, even when it’s hard.  (Which reminds me: bless the parents who stay positive even while raising autistic or disabled children.)

CHUCK BERRY:  Memphis:  In the Berry classic, covered a gazillion times, Chuck is calling home from the road, and while it sounds like he’s missing his significant other, you learn in the last verse that he’s actually calling his 6-year-old daughter.   Turns out Chuck doesn’t see the kid much, not just because of travel, but because he and Mommy don’t get along any more.  (Maybe Mommy saw Chuck setting up his hidden cameras in the bathroom.)

RANDY NEWMAN:  Four Eyes:  The first day of school: always a moment of painful separation. “Son,” orders the father, “it’s time to make us proud of you…Gonna have to learn to work hard,” and in response, little Randy sputters “Work!” like Maynard G. Krebs. (Not-so-fun fact: your kids have no idea who Maynard G. Krebs was.)  In Newman’s operatic song from Land of Dreams, dropping your child off, with his little brown cowboy shirt and Roy Rogers lunchbox, to spend the day enduring the taunts of total strangers, is a cruel act of parental abandonment.  Hilarious because it’s true. 

RICHARD & LINDA THOMPSON:  The End of the Rainbow:  “I feel for you, ya little horror, safe at your mother’s breast,” sneers Thompson over a painfully depressing beat.  So “take a look outside the nursery door” and let bitter Papa Richard proceed to tell you the real facts of life: Always look out for Number One.  Sleep with one eye open.  Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.  Life sucks and then you die.  Have a nice day!

LOUDON WAINWRIGHT III:  Hitting You:  Sometimes Daddy gets mad.  No, sometimes Daddy gets REALLY mad, and then he does something (“against the law in Sweden,” Loudon helpfully adds) that he’s gonna regret for the rest of his life.  Wainwright has been our most persistent chronicler of the tensions between parent and child – from both perspectives – so it’s no wonder that Judd Apatow pegged him to write the music for Knocked Up (including perhaps the first song about X and Y chromosomes).  Early in his career, Loudon wrote a cheerful ode to his son’s breast-feeding, “Rufus Is a Tit Man;” I’m the royalties helped pay for therapy.  At least daughter Martha has written sweetly about the bond between daughter and father in a song called – let me find the title, oh, here it is - “Bloody Motherf***ing Asshole.”  Isn’t it wonderful when the kids join the family business?

EARLE HAGEN:  The Old Fishin’ Hole (“Theme From The Andy Griffith Show”): Unfortunately, we get much of our image of fathers from sitcoms, which often portray us as beer-chugging, sports-obsessed, boobs-ogling, responsibility-shirking nitwits (D’oh!) who don’t deserve their calm, patient, nurturing wives.  So it’s curious that early TV was loaded with series about single fathers who happily accepted and ably fulfilled their parental responsibilities, while producing none about single mothers.  I’m sure it was pure sexism - perhaps the thought of a woman with so much independence and authority was too unsettling (hello, Murphy Brown).  Anyway, here are the two best sitcom themes about the bond between father and son (and no matter how many Oscars he wins, Ron Howard will always be Opie to me).

MERLE HAGGARD:  I’m Still Your Daddy:  Some day, your child is going to figure out that you’re no saint, that you’ve got skeletons in your closet, and that you didn’t always practice what you preached.  Hopefully, your secret’s not as bad as Hag’s.  In this song from 2000’s If I Could Only Fly, which is a wistful meditation on aging, he has to explain to his kid why he did time in San Quentin.  Remember, kids, do as I say, not as I do.

THE DESCENDENTS:  My Dad Sucks:  Dadyoureajerkwhosalwaystellingmewhattodoandwhoareyoutojudge-becauseyoureahypocrite.  Wow, it only took me 37 seconds to get that off my chest. Can you drive me to the mall now, Dad?

CAT STEVENS:  Father and Son:  A beautiful song from Tea For the Tillerman about the opposing perspectives of father and son.  Son, listen to the man now known as Yusuf Islam, because if you don’t calm down and refrain from your troubling activities, you might end up on a terrorist watch list.  Oh, wait…

THE TEMPTATIONS:  Papa Was a Rolling Stone:  Son, you know that drunken, gambling, whoring reprobate you see all over town?  You’ve got his genes.

NEIL YOUNG:  Here For You:  From the intimate Prairie Wind, Neil sings movingly about letting his daughter go off into her new adult life, while reminding her that his door is always open for her.  In the performance of this song in Jonathan Demme’s concert film, Neil turned and gave a brief, proud smile to his wife Pegi.  I know that feeling.

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN:  Walk Like a Man:  In this beautiful song from Tunnel of Love, the Boss faces his wedding day and wonders if he can be as strong as his father.  Don’t worry, Bruce, I think your Dad would be proud.

DRIVE-BY TRUCKERS:  Outfit:  Country has more good songs about parent and child because it is grounded in community, family and the passing on of their respective values. Rock and roll is about rebellion, so when rockers discover the joy of a child or realize that their old man knew a thing or three, it always sounds like new-found wisdom, like they’re Einstein and they’ve just figured out the theory of relativity.  I love this Truckers song about a father giving his son practical advice as his band hits the road (“Have fun and stay clear of the needle / Call home on your sister’s birthday”), at least partly because it also acknowledges that family ties can be smothering, since Dad regrets giving up his dreams and spending his life painting houses with his Dad.

ROSANNE CASH (with Johnny Cash):  September When It Comes:  Let’s face it, most fathers aren’t Johnny Cash.  Even with age and declining health sapping his voice, it remained full of strength, love and humanity.  It’s wonderful that Rosanne and her dad recorded this reflective duet shortly before he passed away.

PAUL WESTERBERG:  My Dad:  There are smarter, prettier songs about fathers than Westerberg’s shaggy ode to his dad, but I’m partial to this for one reason: it’s the only song I know that references “box scores” (Westerberg’s father is a Minnesota Twins fan).  Since I inherited my love of baseball from my dad, it hits home.  I still occasionally wish I could see my Dad and say, “Hey, did you watch that game last night?” 

THE WINSTONS:  Color Him Father:  I’d never heard of this R&B group, a one-hit wonder from the late 1960s, until I heard this on Bob Dylan’s radio show.  They’ve come back as a gospel/Christian act, and re-recorded this song several times, but the original from 1969 is the best, sounding like a lost hit from the Impressions. The lyrics demonstrate that a father is not determined by blood, but by sweat and tears, and that, though a father’s love should be unconditional, the child’s has to be earned.  Even though it was a Top Ten hit, I don’t remember it; in the turbulence of the Vietnam era, I was probably too cynical to appreciate it then.  I do now.  

Congratulations. You’ve raised your kids to adulthood, helping them steer clear of the dangers of substance abuse and teen pregnancy, encouraging them to develop their own distinct personalities, fostering their social consciences, while maintaining your own sanity and dignity.  Now, you wait for them to have their own kids, so you can sit your grandkids on your knee and tell them how you used to walk 15 miles to school in the snow, uphill both ways, meanwhile filling them with caffeinated beverages and sugary candy bars, and returning the hyper brats to their exhausted parents.  Payback’s a bitch!

Feeling sentimental?  Sure, but hell, you’ve earned it.  I’ve earned it.  Happy Father’s Day, me.

ELIMINATED FOR SPACE CONSIDERATIONS:  

John Hiatt: Your Dad Did (you’re just like your Daddy, and he was an asshole);

The Streets:  Never Went to Church (I miss you, Dad, in Cockney);

Arcade Fire:  (Antichrist Television Blues) (I’m a good Christian man who wants to make my daughter a star – right, Jessica and Ashlee?);

Ramones:  We’re a Happy Family (“and Daddy likes men” – huh?); 

The Mountain Goats:  Pale Green Things (even abusive stepfathers had their moments and should be mourned);

Bob Dylan & the Band:  Tears of Rage (Dylan, the Pied Piper of rebellion, takes the parent’s point of view, with sympathy);

Sunrise Sunset from Fiddler on the Roof (Our daughter’s old enough to get married?  When did we get that old?); 

Horace Silver:  Song For My Father (jazz instrumental, and yes, that’s the opening riff to “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number;” Steely Dan only steals from the best);

Brad Paisley:  Time Well Wasted (second verse doesn’t apply to parenthood, but the first verse, about calling in sick to go fishin’ with Dad, is a killer).