There was always a thick gloop of innocent sentimentality clogging up the Merseysound arteries - there's been evidence enough of this to date, but nothing to quite prepare the unwary for the full on atrophy of 'Little Children'. And that goes twofold, because even if its broken musical box rattle was tweeness personified in 1964, the intervening years have only served to add an edge that's too sinister for its own good. To whit; Billy J wants to have a good snog with his girlfriend but he's worried that her father wouldn't approve. The problem is that the girl has younger siblings with loose tongues so Bill tries to bribe them with "candy and a quarter" to keep them from grassing.
Well ok I guess, and if you take it at absolute face value then there's a cutesyness at work ("I wish they would take a nap, little children. Now why don't you go bye-bye, go anywhere at all") that might appeal to some. But to pick at any of the loose threads flapping around here leads to very dubious territory that casts Billy J as some paedophilic predator up to no good at all with the innocence smothered under a ton of readymix sleaze and innuendo:
"Little children, you better not tell what you see
And if you're good I'll give you candy and a quarter
If you're quiet like you oughta be
And keep a secret with me"
Of course, Kramer is simply singing lyrics that somebody else wrote (Mort Shuman no less), but even in that, a twenty one year old's (Kramer's age in 1964) 'little children' plea sounds unlikeably patronising, especially from a bloke too scared to front up to his girl's old man. Which begs the question just how old was she anyway? "With little children like you around, I wonder what can I do around little children like you" - oh forget it...this is horrible whichever way you cut it.
Wednesday 5 May 2010
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