
After a brief introduction build up with a hint of drama to come, 'Congratulations' soon and permanently settles into a gentle Johnny Cash in carpet slippers boom chicka boom rhythm that exerts just enough force to buoy the main melody with a twinkling eye wink. Cliff himself makes no concessions to his roots in his performance - this is Cliff as light entertainer pure and simple, content to let the song play him with its own faceless anonymity; there's no stamp of personality here, virtually any Brit singer from the class of 1959 could have sung it to no greater or lesser effect.
No harm in that - 'Congratulations' isn't something that lends itself to individualistic interpretation. Like hospital food, it's purely functional and serves its purpose by getting multi-cultural hands clapping at its predictability to the point that its own language is superfluous; does nobody think to question just what is being congratulated here and why? Is Cliff congratulating himself on finding such a lover, or are his mates slapping him on the back in a more polite version of a Sid James 'Phwoaar!!'? And aren't both just a teeny bit patronising? Ah who cares; just like hospital food, 'Congratulations' is too bland and tasteless to be worth the worry. Collect the points and move along.
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