Following the recent passing of the legendary Burt Bacharach, many are revisiting his extensive catalog of hits. For some, like myself, it evokes personal memories, in my case of a childhood music box playing a familiar tune. It was only later that I realized this seemingly simple melody was “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head,” the soundtrack to the iconic film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and not just some American nursery rhyme. This song, “Song Raindrops Falling On My Head,” became a cultural phenomenon, a testament to Bacharach’s genius for crafting melodies that resonate across generations and contexts.
The success of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” is undeniable. Released in 1969 as part of the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid soundtrack, the song quickly transcended its film origins. The movie itself was a box office smash, becoming the highest-grossing film of 1969, and Bacharach’s score was equally lauded, earning an Oscar, a Golden Globe, and a Grammy Award for Best Original Score. Adding to this acclaim, “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” also secured the Oscar for Best Song. Perhaps even more remarkably, given its somewhat nostalgic and gentle sound, the song topped the Billboard Hot 100 chart for the first four weeks of 1970. This placed it ahead of musical giants of the era, including Diana Ross & The Supremes, Led Zeppelin, Peter Paul & Mary, The Jackson 5, and even The Beatles, highlighting its broad appeal and unexpected dominance in a diverse musical landscape.
Beyond its commercial success, the enduring appeal of “song raindrops falling on my head” can be attributed to Burt Bacharach’s distinctive approach to songwriting. As a musician, I’ve always been fascinated by the unconventional construction of his songs, and “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” is a prime example. Even a cursory glance at the song’s structure reveals its unique characteristics. The verses are an unusual nine bars long, while the bridges, intended as ten bars, arguably feel more like nine bars with a one-bar extension. This rhythmic ambiguity is further emphasized by the outro at 2:25, a section with a peculiar nine-beat meter that feels deliberately out of sync with the preceding sections, possibly intended as a structural echo of the verse’s unusual length.
Harmonically, the song is equally intriguing. The verse progression is built around a tonal cycle of fifths, a sophisticated harmonic device that creates a sense of movement and resolution. Bacharach cleverly omits the diminished chord on the leading note of the F major scale, and repeats the iii and vi chords, resulting in a progression of I-IV-iii-vi-iii-vi-ii-V. This creates a rich and slightly unexpected harmonic landscape within a seemingly simple pop song. Interestingly, the bridge shares a similar harmonic DNA with the verse. It retains the basic I-IV-iii-vi-ii-V outline but adds extra V chords around the IV chord. This subtle yet effective technique musically links the bridge and verse, creating a cohesive and unified song structure despite the unusual section lengths. This approach offers a valuable lesson for songwriters, demonstrating how harmonic relationships can be used to create unity and coherence, even when experimenting with unconventional forms.
The vocal melody of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head,” sung by B.J. Thomas, is another element that sets it apart. It’s far from a straightforward or easily singable tune, a characteristic often noted by Dionne Warwick, Bacharach’s primary musical collaborator, regarding his compositions in general. A striking example of this melodic complexity is the rising major seventh interval first heard on the words “his bed” at 0:13. This is a highly dissonant interval, notoriously difficult to sing accurately, especially on an instrument like the human voice without fixed pitches. Historically, 16th-century vocal church-music composers deliberately avoided melodic major seventh intervals due to their inherent difficulty. Even in contemporary song, major sevenths are typically used only when the melody immediately resolves upwards by a half-step to complete the octave, providing a mental framework for accurate pitching. However, Bacharach’s melody ends the phrase directly on the major seventh, and the subsequent phrase begins a whole step below. This unusual melodic contour likely contributes to the occasional pitch inaccuracies noticeable in B.J. Thomas’s performance throughout the song, yet these imperfections arguably add to the song’s charm and vulnerability.
Adding to the song’s distinctive character are the slightly out-of-tune ukulele and jangly piano that feature prominently in the arrangement. The opening ukulele and the piano that enters at 0:23 are not perfectly in tune, but this is not a flaw. Instead, it imbues the song with a “down-at-heel saloon” atmosphere, perfectly aligning with the revisionist Western setting of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. This highlights the crucial aesthetic role that tuning decisions can play in shaping the overall feel and context of a piece of music. The piano sound itself is also noteworthy; it’s highly likely a tack piano, an upright piano modified with metal tacks on the hammers. This modification creates a percussive, metallic timbre that further enhances the song’s slightly off-kilter and vintage vibe. However, the pianist’s unexpected Ab after “done” at 0:34 does sound like a genuine, albeit minor, mistake.
It’s important to acknowledge that “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” exists in multiple versions. Two primary recordings were made: one for the film soundtrack, where B.J. Thomas’s vocals are noticeably raspy due to laryngitis, and a separate version recorded for the single release, which is the version most commonly heard and analyzed. However, navigating the various remasters and compilations of early singles releases can be challenging, often resulting in inconsistent sound quality. This issue is particularly evident with “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head.” Upon examining several popular versions from iTunes, significant disparities in audio quality become apparent.
My preferred version is found on The Scepter Records Story Vol. 3 compilation. It boasts a clean and clear mastering with a conservative loudness level of -18LUFS. The Very Best Of B J Thomas compilation offers reasonable headroom at -13dBLUFS but inexplicably reverses the stereo image and applies heavy-handed digital noise reduction, causing undesirable high-frequency artifacts that make the opening ukulele sound distorted. Super Hits: B J Thomas goes even further, summing the mix to mono, pushing the loudness to -10dBLUFS, and presenting the left channel 2dB louder than the right, effectively panning the mono mix off-center. It’s also slightly faster and sharper in pitch, and exhibits a strange pitch wobble in the ukulele intro, raising suspicions of a vinyl rip source. The most egregious example is a compilation titled 1960s Happy Days, which reaches an absurd loudness of -8dBLUFS, louder than contemporary pop tracks like Lizzo’s “About Damn Time.” This extreme loudness results in frequent distortion of the lead vocal and severe mix pumping during the trumpet solo at 1:33. The mastering choices on some of these compilations highlight the importance of careful audio preservation and mastering practices, especially when dealing with classic recordings.
In conclusion, “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” is more than just a catchy tune; it’s a masterclass in unconventional songwriting and arrangement. Burt Bacharach’s genius lies in his ability to blend sophisticated musical elements with broad popular appeal. From its unusual structure and harmonic richness to its quirky melody and slightly imperfect instrumentation, the song’s unique character is a key factor in its enduring charm and lasting legacy as a beloved classic, forever linked to the cinematic world of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Published on 03 Mar 2023
