Following the recent passing of the iconic Burt Bacharach, reflections on his vast musical legacy are inevitable. For many, including myself, memories are stirred by unexpected connections to his work. My personal link is a childhood wind-up music box that played a familiar tune. Years later, I realized this wasn’t just a simple nursery rhyme, but “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head,” the memorable soundtrack to the classic film Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid, a movie about charming outlaws. This realization highlights the song’s broad appeal, extending far beyond its cinematic origins. The 1969 film’s immense success, becoming the highest-grossing movie of the year, naturally propelled Bacharach’s soundtrack, and specifically this song, into popular culture. The soundtrack’s accolades – an Oscar, Golden Globe, and Grammy for Best Original Score, with the song itself winning the Oscar for Best Song – further cemented its place. Perhaps surprisingly, given its gentle, almost nostalgic sound, “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” dominated the Billboard Hot 100 for the first four weeks of 1970. It impressively outperformed major hits of the time, including Diana Ross & The Supremes’ ‘Someday We’ll Be Together’, Led Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’, Peter Paul & Mary’s ‘Leaving On A Jet Plane’, The Jackson 5’s ‘I Want You Back’, and The Beatles’ ‘Come Together/Something’. This chart-topping success speaks volumes about the song’s enduring quality and Bacharach’s songwriting genius.
As someone deeply fascinated by music, I believe part of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head”‘s charm lies in Burt Bacharach’s unconventional approach to song structure. Even a basic look at the song’s architecture reveals unusual choices. Verse sections stretch to nine bars, while the bridges between them extend to ten. Intriguingly, to my ear, the bridges also feel like nine-bar sections, albeit with a one-bar addition. This structural quirk raises questions about Bacharach’s compositional intent. The unexpected nine-beat outro section at 2:25, for instance, feels deliberately placed, perhaps as a subtle structural echo of the verses and bridges. This unique phrasing contributes to the song’s distinctive character and makes it stand out from more conventional pop compositions.
Harmonically, “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” is equally engaging. The verse progression centers around a tonal cycle of fifths, skillfully omitting the diminished chord on the F major scale’s leading note. The progression unfolds as I-IV-iii-vi-iii-vi-ii-V, creating a rich and satisfying harmonic movement. Interestingly, the bridge progression shares significant similarities with the verse. It retains the fundamental I-IV-iii-vi-ii-V framework but strategically inserts extra V chords around the IV. This subtle harmonic link raises a compelling question: does this technique musically unify the bridge and verse sections? It’s a thought-provoking consideration and a practical technique for songwriters. This approach of extrapolating musical ideas, perhaps developing choruses from existing verses, or middle sections from choruses, can be invaluable for completing unfinished songs and creating cohesive musical structures.
The vocal melody of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head,” sung by B.J. Thomas, is also notably quirky and far from simple to execute. This is a characteristic often associated with Bacharach’s compositions, as highlighted by his primary muse, Dionne Warwick, who frequently commented on the melodic challenges in his tunes. Consider the rising major seventh, first heard on the words “his bed” at 0:13. This interval is highly dissonant and notoriously difficult to sing accurately, especially without the aid of frets or keys. Historically, 16th-century vocal church-music composers consciously avoided melodic major-seventh intervals due to their inherent difficulty. Even in contemporary songwriting, melodic major sevenths are typically used as passing tones, quickly resolving upwards by a half-step to complete the octave, providing a clearer pitch reference. However, Bacharach’s melody deliberately ends phrases on this challenging major seventh interval, and the subsequent phrase then begins a whole step lower. It’s perhaps no surprise then that B.J. Thomas occasionally struggles to maintain precise pitch on this note throughout the song, adding a touch of vulnerability to the performance.
(alt: Burt Bacharach and B.J. Thomas performing “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” live, showcasing the collaboration behind the iconic song.)
Adding to the song’s unique sonic texture is the slightly out-of-tune ukulele intro and the jangly piano that enters at 0:23. However, this imperfection is not a flaw but rather a deliberate aesthetic choice. It imparts a ‘down-at-heel saloon’ atmosphere, perfectly aligning with the revisionist Western setting of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. This serves as a powerful reminder that tuning is not merely a technicality but a crucial element of artistic expression. Tuning decisions can significantly impact the emotional and contextual feel of a piece of music. (Although, I would still argue the pianist’s unexpected Ab after “done” at 0:34 sounds more like a genuine mistake!) Furthermore, the piano sound itself strongly suggests a ‘tack piano’. This effect is achieved by inserting metal thumb-tacks into the felt hammers of an upright piano, causing the strings to be struck by the metal heads, producing a percussive, slightly metallic timbre.
It’s important to note that “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” exists in two distinct recordings: one specifically for the film soundtrack (where B.J. Thomas’s vocals are noticeably raspy due to laryngitis) and another recorded for the commercially released single, which is the version primarily analyzed here. However, navigating the numerous remasters and compilations of early singles can be challenging, often making it difficult to find a high-quality version. This issue is particularly relevant to “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head”. Downloading several popular versions from iTunes revealed significant discrepancies in audio quality.
My preferred version is found on The Scepter Records Story Vol. 3 compilation, which exhibits a clean and clear mastering with a conservative loudness level of -18LUFS. The Very Best Of B J Thomas compilation also maintains reasonable dynamic range at -13dBLUFS. However, it inexplicably reverses the stereo image and employs heavy-handed digital noise reduction, creating noticeable high-frequency artifacts that make the opening ukulele sound as if it’s submerged underwater. Super Hits: B J Thomas, on the other hand, opts for a mono mix, pushes the loudness to -10dBLUFS, and strangely presents the left channel 2dB louder than the right, effectively panning the mono mix off-center. This version also runs slightly faster (approximately 20 cents sharper) and exhibits an odd pitch wobble in the ukulele intro’s fourth beat, suggesting a possible vinyl source.
The most egregious example of poor mastering is found on a compilation titled 1960s Happy Days. This version reaches an absurd loudness of -8dBLUFS. To put this in perspective, it’s a decibel louder than Lizzo’s recent hit ‘About Damn Time’! The extreme loudness results in frequent distortion on the lead vocal, and the mix pumping on the trumpet solo at 1:33 is remarkably distracting. The mastering engineer responsible for this compilation arguably needs to reconsider their approach to audio production.
In conclusion, “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” is far more than a simple, catchy tune. Through Burt Bacharach’s masterful songwriting, the song showcases unconventional structure, rich harmonies, a quirky melody, and distinctive instrumentation choices. Its unexpected chart dominance in 1970 and enduring appeal solidify its status as a timeless classic. For further information, explore the Wikipedia page dedicated to the song. Join the discussion to share your own thoughts and interpretations.
