Little Rock

Little Rock
by Bob DiPiero, Gerry House and Pat McManus

He sure loves his money
And I’m the one who pays the price

Hello, again. It’s Full of Woe Wednesday and I’m your host, Fuelgrip Skip. I told my brother Fireplug Doug that I might not be able to write for his little blog every week: believe it or not, I just can’t think of that many songs that I dislike. As I mentioned last week, there are probably thousands of songs that would set my teeth on edge (rap, punk, disco, atonal opera), but I just don’t listen to them. But then I remembered one of those “cheatin’ songs” in the Country Songbook. So here is this week’s candidate for Least Favorite Song, Little Rock by Reba McEntire.

Dennis Miller once said, “I got to thinking the other day that Mickey Mouse’s best friend is Goofy, who is a dog. And Mickey Mouse’s pet is Pluto, who is also a dog. And I just don’t think that’s right.” That, in essence, is my problem with this song. I'll try to explain.

I actually like Ms McEntire quite a bit. She’s a good ol’ Oklahoma gal from Stringtown, a champion barrel racer and a bit of a Renaissance Man (in that female country and western singer sort of way): albums, concerts, TV series, websites, perfumes, frozen dinners and other product lines – they all bear the Reba name. And I like her voice. She sings with that incipit (kind of like a little yodel) in her voice that is the hallmark of heirloom country singing – I’ll never forget the first time I heard LeeAnn Rimes warble her way through Blue – it was sheer Heaven. And even though I am horrified by what most other singers are doing these days with melisma (basically trying to cram as many notes into one syllable as possible), when Ms McEntire does it, it doesn’t bother me (although, thankfully, I’ve never heard her try to ululate through The Star-Spangled Banner – that would definitely change my opinion).

But Little Rock is a bridge too far. Actually, it’s two verses and a chorus too far, if you’ll pardon the expression. I know that many of you may be thinking that I’m actually taking out my frustrations on a certain former President through this song’s common zip code, but there is another country song titled Little Rock by Colin Raye and I think it’s terrific. Here’s a sample from Mr Raye's song:

I haven’t had a drink in 14 days
My eyes are finally clearing from the haze
I like the preacher down at the Church of Christ
Sorry that I cried when I called last night

I think I’m on a roll here in Little Rock
I’m solid as a stone, baby, wait and see
There’s only one small problem here in Little Rock:
Without you, baby, I’m not me

But I’m not here to write about good songs (that’s Fireplug’s job), so let’s hear from Reba:

Well I'm married to the good life
I said I'd be a good wife
When I put on this ring
I drive a new Mercedes
I play tennis with the ladies
I buy all the finer things
But all that don't mean nothing
When you can't get a good night's loving

There was a period when she went through a rash of songs about infidelity. Seems like she was really suspicious there for a while. Of course, looking back now at “When Whoever’s in New England’s Through with You” with the benefit of hindsight, I say “methinks she doth sing too much” about it.

Besides Ms McEntire, there seemed to be a whole spate of life imitating art moments in the country music world involving extramarital relations around this same time (see also Gill, Vince and Grant, Amy). Now, I’m certainly not here to stand in judgment of someone, and this isn’t some call for censorship, but I do wonder if people with artistic talent and a public forum could just think a little bit about the influence they might have on impressionable minds. I’m not saying there’s a straight line from Helter Skelter to Charles Manson or from The Matrix to Columbine, or even from Kenny G to brain-melting lasers, but to deny that art lacks any influencing or transformative power is, to me, a bigger slap in the face of the creative Muse than the people calling for censorship: at least those folks realize that creative energy, once loosed, is kinetic and not just potential. And for those of you who want to defend Ms McEntire with “a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do and, it’s just ‘art’, after all”, I just have two words for you: Leni Riefenstahl.

Actually, Ms McEntire has her own Triumph of the Will moment, when she reveals in the chorus the double meaning of the song’s title:

Oh, little rock
I think I’m gonna have to slip you off
Take a chance tonight and untie the knot
There’s more to life than what I’ve got . . .

Clever, huh? It actually is rather, and to me, that’s the whole problem with the song. Without reference to its message, I’d tell Dick Clark I gave the song an 86 (good beat, easy to listen to – I don’t dance). Of course, the problem is, the infectious, bouncy music has already set the song’s hooks in me before I’ve started processing the words.

Oh, little rock
You know this heart of mine just can't be bought
I'm gonna find someone who really cares a lot
When I slip off this little rock

Well, we already know what’s going to happen and we know that nothing’s going to stop her, but for some reason, she feels the need to use all of verse two to further build her case:

Well I wonder if he'll miss me
He doesn't even kiss me
When he comes home at night
He never calls me honey
But he sure loves his money
And I'm the one who pays the price
But when he finds this ring he'll see
He keeps everything but me

Look, I’m not trying to be callous: this guy sounds like a loser. And the sad thing is, it sounds like Ms McEntire’s denouement is a win-win – she gets her freedom and he gets his stuff. I’m just saying there should be more. I’d like to have seen a verse that talks about counseling and prayer and heart-wrenching decisions – or maybe if the song could have just been slower and in a minor key. Instead, we get a yee-haw, pedal-to-the-metal, fire-all-the-guns-at-once, good-timin’ song about two-timin’. And I just don't think that's right.

If I may try my hand at the chorus:

Oh woe, whoa,
Little Rock