I knew it would happen. I threw "EVERLASTING LOVE SONGS" into the CD player
knowing this would happen. I looked over the titles, and was forewarned that
of the 17 songs thereon, 15 of 'em were some of the most banal country music
recordings ever made. But I sat down to listen anyway, and made it to "All
This Time" by Reba McEntire. Everything went black; the next thing I knew I
was on a gurney in the Riverside Methodist Hospital emergency room, being
treated for diabetic coma. The things I do for you.
Now, I've got nothing against love songs. Nothing at all. But they have to
have some emotion, some soul, to 'em. It may seem like an oxymoron to talk
about soulful country music, but it's not at all. Listen to Hank Williams, or
Vince Gill, just for starters. In fact, a couple even snuck onto this
collection, those being "Look At Us" by the aforementioned Vinny and "Loving
You" by The Mavericks. The other 15 songs on here are by-the-numbers
Nashville sound, with the tempo slowed down to a paralytic crawl and enough
syrup on the strings to supply the Route 3 Waffle House for a month or two.
Virtually everyone represented on here, from George Strait ("Baby Blue") to
Toby Keith ("Me Too") to Lee Ann Womack ("Some things I Know") has done
better elsewhere. And at least one of the songs has been done better
elsewhere, as well. Listen to Kathy Mattea's version of "Sending Me Angels;"
then dig up Delbert McClinton's soulful, heartfelt rendition, which is enough
to make even a born-again agnostic like myself fall to his unworthy knees to
give a prayer of thanks, and see what I mean.
The problem with a compilation like this is the thought process that goes
into it. A bunch of suits are sitting around in Nashville, sipping on their
lattes, and imagining themselves as an integral part of a Dixie Chicks'
sandwich. Someone says, "We've got all of these love ballads that were hits;
let's throw 'em on a CD and call it "EVERLASTING LOVE SONGS;" it'll give
Jethro something to buy for the Mrs. on his way home from the Bakersfield
run, and salve his conscience for the lot lizard he picked up in Jellico!"
The others assembled nod sagely. And here's the result. What they forget it
is that some of this stuff is halfway tolerable if it's on the radio and
you're in the car or folding laundry or something like that and its
sandwiched in between Brooks and Dunn or Randy Travis or something. But cut
after cut after cut will make you want to cut your throat.
When my sons were younger, this is the type of stuff I would make them
listen to as punishment; if I did that now, the Children's Services' nazis
would take them away from me. And they would be right. Again, there's two
good songs out of seventeen here, and you've probably got 'em already. Pass.