Why it works #5: “Every Rose Has Its Thorn”

Songwriters: Bret Michaels, C.C. DeVille, Rikki Rocket, Bobby Dall

Artist: Poison

Producer: Tom Werman

For this edition of “Why It Works” we jump back to the ’80s and if there was one band that epitomized that decade…

You have to give Poison their due. In the 70s and 80s, bands from all corners migrated to L.A. with visions of playing the Strip, getting signed and making it big. Of all of the groups that came and went, none embodied the L.A. dream as Poison did. They understood promotion and the value of a memorable live performance. If their stage show was quintessential glam rock, behind the scenes, they were willing to do the non glamorous work that most bands aren’t. As for the music, who hasn’t played steering wheel drums or air guitar to “Nothin’ But A Good Time” or “Talk Dirty to Me?” No, those songs didn’t win Grammy awards and probably aren’t being analyzed in songwriting classes, but people enjoy singing along to them and innocent fun should always be allowed its place.

Which brings us to the subject of this post.

What I don’t like

There’s nothing wrong with escapist entertainment and guilty pleasures. But why do people still listen to this song? It’s all of the self-seriousness of the 80s with none of the fun. Musically, there’s nothing noteworthy going on; as ’80s power ballads go, “Love Bites” is more harmonically interesting and has a less predictable arrangement while still puting hooks first. Lyrically not much ground is broken here either. I happen to believe that old formulae can still work if they have a new twist, but to describe heartbreak as cutting like a knife isn’t exactly original. This might be nitpicking, but starting the chorus with the short “e” sound of “Every” is a poor choice – long melodic notes should take long vowel sounds (“every breath you take.”) And are “thorn”, “dawn” and “song” supposed to rhyme with each other?

Yes, a lot of making out was done to this song in the late ’80s, in some cases resulting in millennials named Bret, but is it really possible to enjoy it other than ironically in 2019?

Why it works

Intentionally or not, Poison employed some clever compositional tricks with “Every Rose.” The verse uses the same two guitar chords over and over again – which may seem simplistic, but it creates something not often seen in hair metal: space. Thus, the song has somewhere to go: in the prechorus, the same two chords are repeated but less time is spent on each, creating a sense of movement without actually changing the harmonies. When the third chord is finally introduced (on the lyric “though I tried not to hurt you”) it helps set up the payoff of the chorus. The vocal line likewise starts out simply, just going back and forth between two notes, but the distance between the two notes increases as the chords start moving faster, contributing to the build up. The song has the repetition necessary to establish good hooks without becoming monotonous – a trait not just of successful pop and rock songs but also classical music. Were Bret and the boys listening to some Mozart on that long drive from Harrisburg to L.A.?

Lyrically, if the song doesn’t provide a novel take on breakups, it states its case in a way that multiple generations of listeners have found relatable. As this article points out, “If the 1980s power ballad taught us anything, it’s that even lipstick-loving, hairspray-abusing, pointy guitar-playing glam rockers experienced their fair share of women troubles…regardless of how many porn stars and supermodels you bed, or backstage mother-daughter threesomes you partake in, you’re still…headed for an eventual heartbreak.”

Lastly, let’s give Bret love for considering that he might be partially to blame for the breakup – “Was it something I said or something I did/did my words not come out right?” Hair metal bands aren’t known for taking responsibility.

What I learned

From its origins in a Dallas laundromat to the numerous remakes it’s seen over the years, the saga of “Every Rose” is as instructive as the work itself. Celebrities are flesh and blood just like the rest of us and when, as the story goes, Bret Michaels called his girlfriend from the road out of loneliness, only to hear another man with her, it “cut [him] like a knife.” Capitol Records didn’t want to release the song as a single but Michaels insisted and turned his heartbreak into a number 1 hit.

Yes, Michaels has often been a punchline in the years since Poison’s glory days, but he has survived, probably because he has something more valuable to musicians than a ’51 Fender bass – the ability to laugh at himself. Even looking back on his darkest hour, Michaels found humor: “It was obviously a guy’s voice. Now, a female voice, that I could’ve lived with, you know what I’m saying? Hell, I may have even welcomed it.”