The guy looks like he's feelin' no pain, right? He might soon be feeling like he's gonna throw up, but that sound effect would only add to the fun of this oom-pah rock waltz. Yes, before the bombastic Tom Jones and "What's New Pussycat," here's Paul Evans, putting on a happy face as he does a tipsy dance. Maybe later on, his high will wear off and he'll drip the tears of a clown, and some piss down his pants leg.
Burt Bacharach's lyricist for “Feelin’ No Pain” is the usually reliable Bob Hilliard, the guy who co-wrote the hilarious yet passionate “Tower of Strength” (Gene McDaniel) and “Any Day Now” (which had a fine cover version from Judy Henske.).
We can't say Hilliard is an un-sung genius. His lyrics have been sung very often. With music by Mort Garson, Hilliard gave us “Our Day Will Come.” With music by David Mann, Hilliard penned “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning." With Phil Springer, he came up with “Moonlight Gambler” for Frankie Laine. And with Lee Pockriss, he knocked off the too-cute novelty “Seven Little Girls (Sitting in the Back Seat),” sung by this very same (but sober) Paul Evans.
Bob Hilliard either was sought after by every composer, or he couldn’t get along with any composer too long. Either way, he is long gone (he died in 1971 at the age of 53). "Feelin' No Pain" remains, if not for your amusement, then the same shock diversion as looking at car accident pictures and skank model wardrobe malfunctions in the London Daily Mail.
Some campy limp-wrists chortle about things that are “so BAD they’re GOOD.” No, they’re NOT. It's just a symptom of cruelty to snicker on the sidelines and make fun of somebody trying their best and being sincere about it. Or as Shatner would put it, “never was talkin’ about still trying.”
No way should you be laughing and enjoying “Feelin’ No Pain.” It’s here to CAUSE pain. Like a car accident, the point might be to see what went wrong and what could've saved it. Evans is no Tom Jones, so his voice can't fight the bombast of the band. He lacks the pathos of an Anthony Newley so you don't feel sorry for the guy who may know what kind of fool he is.
Then again, this was a B-side, so sometimes you take a swing and you miss, and back then, nobody really expected a B-side to be any good anyway.
It's cruel fun, sometimes, to laugh and give thumbs down to some utter idiot on one of Simon Cowell's "Got Talent" shows. Somebody comes out, unprepared and tone deaf, and deserves the boos. But here, professional musicians are at work, and if they've struck out, well, we don't laugh when a baseball player strikes out, either. We feel something, though. Which is better than feeling nothing at all, or worse, being a craven campy idiot hooting and knee-slapping because it's "the WORST!"
Of historical note; the arrangement here is one of the first in attempted pop-hitdom, or pop hit dumb, to use a tack piano. Go ahead and say it: it’s tacky.
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