What was the greatest one-hit wonder of the 90s?
You could make a case for any of the following:
“Macarena” was #1 on the Billboard 100 for 14 weeks (as of this writing, only five songs have had longer runs) and spawned a dance craze that even Al Gore couldn’t resist.
“Tubthumping” came out of nowhere and featured a chorus so catchy and uplifting that it’s been co-opted by almost everyone — including politicians whose views were antithetical to the band’s.
“Baby Got Back” became one of those songs that almost everyone who was alive in the 90s can quote — and it made Sir Mix-a-Lot so much money, he could have bought a whole fleet of luxury cars instead of limiting himself to asking the ladies if they wanted to roll in his Mercedes.
There were other great ones like “Mambo No. 5.,” “I Touch Myself,” “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles),” and so many more. And there are some songs that are remembered as one-hit wonders but, technically, are not, like “Ice Ice Baby” “Closing Time” and “Unbelievable.” All of them are good choices.
Or you could go with “Return of the Mack.” Mark Morrison’s ridiculously catchy 1996 song about rebuilding his life after being in prison went to #1 in his native U.K., hit #2 on the Billboard 100 and was a Top Ten smash in nine other countries. It’s still fondly remembered as one of the best songs of its era.
Unfortunately, that would not be the only time he’d have occasion to write about being incarcerated or in trouble with the law. In fact, you can argue that repeated run-ins with the police cost him a chance to be more than a one-hit wonder.
As we’ve seen a lot in music, having a rap sheet can actually be beneficial — or at the very least, not a detriment.
But being in constant contact with Johnny Law can be a real hindrance towards building a long, lasting career. After all, you can’t do as much promotion or make as many public appearances when you’re constantly in court or prison. And touring can be a real problem — sometimes, courts will seize your passport so you leave the country. Plus, some countries won’t let you in if you have a felony on your record.
And, of course, having so many run-ins with the law can lead to others believing you’re a bad person or an unnecessary risk. Radio stations in certain markets might refuse to play your songs and record labels might decide you’re unreliable and decline to promote you.
So Mark Morrison didn’t do himself any favors by becoming a regular in criminal courts throughout the U.K., as he seemed determined to live up to his self-proclaimed nickname as the “Don of British R&B.”
According to The Independent, Morrison served time in prison in 1995 for taking part in a nightclub brawl which resulted in the death of a student. While he was incarcerated, he decided to commit to a career in music, writing his big hit “Return of the Mack.”
His 1996 debut album, also titled Return of the Mack, was a huge success in the U.K., hitting #4 on the albums chart and spawning five U.K. Top Ten singles (“Crazy,” “Trippin,” “Horny,” “Moan & Groan” and the title track). Morrison became the first artist in U.K. history to have five Top Ten singles from a debut album. For reference, Oasis, Take That and One Direction each only managed three Top Ten singles off their debut albums.
But for Morrison, the overnight success may have been the worst thing for him. According to his lawyer, Morrison couldn’t deal with the sudden fame and fortune. “Some people can cope and some people cannot. Mr Morrison was one of those who cannot,” his lawyer told The Independent.
Additionally, he decided to lean into his “bad boy” image. His stage show would often feature him performing in handcuffs and prison garb or T-shirts with his inmate number on them, backed by dancers dressed as police officers.
Unfortunately for him, life imitated art and he found himself constantly in trouble with the law. In 1997, he was sent to prison for threatening a police officer with a stun gun. (His defense was that he bought the stun gun in the U.S. and didn’t know it was illegal in his home country — let’s be honest, it’s easy to lose perspective on these things considering a stun gun might as well be a pea shooter compared to the stuff you can buy in America.)
That prison stint came as “Return of the Mack” started climbing the charts in the U.S., inhibiting his ability to tour and promote his music there.
Then, in 1998, he found himself back in court for failing to perform his requisite community service as part of his original conviction for the nightclub fight.
First, owing to his fame and touring commitments, he hired an imposter to perform his community service for him. I wonder how he got caught. Maybe his probation officer went to a Mark Morrison concert and realized he looked like nothing like the guy who showed up to complete his community service. Or maybe the imposter came when Morrison was touring in another part of the country.
Courts don’t like being deceived like that, so the judge ordered him to show up and explain himself. Instead, Morrison failed to make his court date, instead jumping bail and fleeing to Barbados for a month.
When he was sent back to the U.K., the judge sentenced him to a year in prison — all because he couldn’t take a couple of days here and there to pick up garbage or work in a soup kitchen or something. Heck, he probably could have recorded a public service announcement and fulfilled his community service requirement that way.
“I made an effort to do those hours,” Morrison said. “They expected me to go clean up a high school. I’d do Top of the Pops in the evening. The next day high schoolers watch Mark Morrison [makes cleaning motion]. It was humiliating. Why didn’t you go and humiliate Eric Cantona? Why does he get to teach kids to play soccer? Why can’t I teach music to kids?”
Either way, the detour to prison came at a bad time for Morrison. Unable to capitalize on his big hit, his label tried to keep him in the spotlight by releasing an E.P. in 1997, Only God Can Judge Me, which consisted of live performances, prayers and interviews and a few new songs including the U.K. Top 20 hit “Who’s The Mack!” — a suspiciously similar sounding song to it’s more famous counterpart.
“I was in court more than I was on Top of the Pops,” he says.
After he was released from prison in 1999, he made an appearance at the Brit Awards where he announced his comeback.
He then released a single, “Best Friend” which managed to hit #23 on the U.K. singles chart. However, it would take him another seven years to record his follow up album to Return of the Mack, during which time he found himself a new record label — one where his rap sheet was but a leaflet compared to some of the others around: Death Row Records.
Suge Knight, himself freshly released from prison for his role in the 1996 Las Vegas casino brawl that may have resulted in 2Pac’s murder later that night, decided to rebuild his crumbling label by expanding into the U.K. Knight made Morrison the label’s first European signing and planned on building Death Row U.K. around the onetime star. Morrison then got to work on his planned comeback album: An Innocent Man.
Of course, Death Row was dying at that point, being investigated by the feds while subsisting on its back catalogue and vast archive of unreleased material. There was a stretch where their release strategy basically centered around trying to piss off former artists like Snoop Dogg or Dr. Dre.
Before Death Row U.K. could get up and running, its two main figures resumed their lengthy association with the law, dooming the label. In 2002, Morrison was arrested on kidnapping and car theft charges. He was released on bail but was later arrested for bribing a police officer into letting him go. He then blew off court and got arrested for that, too. Two years later, he got arrested again, this time for getting into a fight in a Leicester nightclub after claiming someone snatched a platinum and diamond medallion off his neck. Meanwhile, in 2003, Knight went to prison for ten months on a parole violation and Death Row declared bankruptcy three years later.
Morrison found his way to 2 Wikid Records, a small label owned by former Arsenal and Everton star Kevin Campbell. In fact, the medallion he claimed was snatched from him during that nightclub fight was something Morrison bought to commemorate his new record deal. His album, An Innocent Man, was set to be released by 2 Wikid in 2005, but disagreements between Morrison and Campbell caused the former to leave the label.
Finally, in 2006, Morrison released An Innocent Man on his own label, Mack Life. The album did not chart, although two singles off the record, “Innocent Man” (featuring DMX) and “Just a Man / Backstabbers” reached the U.K. Top 50. He’s released a few more singles over the past several years, but none of them have charted.
In the meantime, Morrison has become a legacy act known more for his non-musical endeavors. He was arrested again in 2009 for assault and briefly ran for mayor of Leicester in 2022. He’s also licensed the hell out of his best-known song, which is probably why he can do things like pay for a house in Florida with $2 million in cash. Today, you can hear “Return of the Mack” in ads for Uber Eats, Frito Lay, Gain Detergent and, most infamously, a Burger King commercial for its limited edition Mac N’ Cheetos:
I’ve eaten some questionable things in my lifetime, but I draw the line at certain things. Like the KFC Double Down. The McLobster. And the BK Mac N’ Cheetos. I like “Return of the Mack,” mac and cheese, and Cheetos, but not as a combination. Kind of like how I like donuts and bacon, but don’t understand why I see that combination so often here in Chicago.
But hey, if being a pitchman keeps Mark Morrison on the straight and narrow, then keep those ads coming. Maybe Apple can license “Return of The Mack” for the iMac or MacBook. Or Nintendo can use it as Little Mac’s theme in a new version of “Mike Tyson’s Punch Out.” Or Morrison can turn on Burger King and give “Return of the Mack” to McDonald’s — a much more logical partnership, if you ask me.
Maybe he can get some pointers from The Violent Femmes.
