While perusing Revolver Records’ limitless volumes of dusty records this week, I did not have to search long for the perfect addition to my growing collection of cheap –– and, too often, terrible –– vinyl. This immediacy was a relief considering how I usually spend close to an hour deciding upon these increasingly ridiculous purchases.
What struck me so abruptly with Ronnie Dove’s “Cry” was its simplicity. The ‘60s-themed blue-and-green color palate combined with a delicately combed-over Ronnie Dove is certainly less eye-catching than, say, a cravat-wearing DJ, but that must be part of this album’s charm. Besides, I’ve always been a fan of deep, polyester collars.
My only question is why a guy who, from the looks of this photo on the backside of the album, seems quite content with himself is so fixated on crying. Supposedly, this record is filled with “hit after hit after hit,” featuring song titles such as “I Won’t Cry Anymore” and “Years of Tears.” Must be some emotional roller coaster, eh?
Well, I have my Kleenex at the ready — let’s get weepy.
Side one:
“Walkin’ My Baby Back Home”
Right off the bat, this album has a lot more personality than I thought it would. The simplistic design of “Cry’s” cover art is nothing like the jazzy, Elvis-like tune I’m hearing now. Then again, I’m fairly certain that this is another white-guy cover of a Nat King Cole song. Oh, would you look at that: It is! C’mon, Ronnie. Show some creativity if you want to keep this gal “snuggling her head on your chest.” That said, it’s nice to know you’re not sobbing yet. This track must be the calm before the storm.
“It’s the Talk of the Town”
Here we go. The vocal wails paired with depressing lyrics are dead indicators that things are about to get sappy and wet; however, some things disturb me: “I can't show my face / Can’t go anyplace / People stop an' stare / It’s so hard to bear / Everybody knows you left me” is awfully dramatic (can’t say I didn’t tell you so, though). You don’t have to become a hermit just because some chick left you, Ronnie. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, perhaps even in the pool of tears I’m assuming you’ve taken the liberty of creating.
“The Little White Cloud that Cried”
First of all, this song title is all you need to know where this is going. I mean, “The Little White Cloud that Cried"? That’s just pathetic. Since Ronnie clearly has an abysmal understanding of natural earth sciences, perhaps I should clarify: “little white clouds,” also known as cumulus clouds, don’t precipitate. That’s why grey clouds are so ominous. But it’s OK, Ronnie. Sad people aren’t always deep.
Side two:
“I Won’t Cry Anymore”
“This is goodbye / I won’t cry anymore?” Something (i.e. looking at the rest of your track list) tells me that this may not be the case. I gotta say, hearing you claim that you’re done with “feeling blue” and “shedding a million tears” only to turn right around and sob again is kind of a buzz kill. You’re just a weepy guy, Ronnie. Accept it. At least pour yourself a glass of scotch like a normal person.
“One More Mountain to Climb”
Looks like you found yourself a new gal, Ronnie! And a crier, too! It seems like she has some serious baggage if she’s still hung up over her ex, but, come to think of it, so do you. It’s a perfect match. Go ahead and climb that last sad mountain together, but be sure to pack some water; crying so often is certain to dehydrate you.
“Years of Tears”
Really, Ronnie? Another one gone? I know you’re probably not in the right place to hear this right now, but maybe all of this crying was a deal-breaker for these women. I mean, everyone admires a little sensitivity, and I’m proud of you for defying society’s masculine stereotypes, but hearing someone sob 24/7 is just annoying. Try going on a vacation or something. And by “on a vacation,” I mean “to a clinic.”
“Cry”
I guess you’ll just never learn.
Send the reporter your favorite music to cry to at aplante@asu.edu or follow her on Twitter @aimeenplante
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