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The popular music of my lifetime is littered with examples of songs that became huge hits despite the fact that they advocated for, romanticized and sometimes even celebrated deviant behavior. Among all the unlikely, improbable things our heroine expects listeners to accept, this, somehow, is the one thing that really sticks in my craw. We had the live version in videos but now the full HQ studio version of “Make It Rain” is available for purchase on iTunes and Amazon.
When I was a child, I had neither the critical nor social acumen to determine the difference between a benign piece of pop confection and, say, an ode to pedophilia disguised as a love song (I’m looking at you, Kip Winger). Now we encounter the song’s coup de grace of iniquity, also known as the third verse:Then it happened one day, we came ‘round the same way You can imagine his surprise when he saw his own eyesSo, wait. If you need to hear it first before making the purchase then go ahead and stream Ed’s new song below! Now, though, with the perspective of encroaching middle age, when I hear these songs I often end up feeling displaced in time, divided into two selves — the younger me who loves the songs with the indiscriminate enthusiasm of a child, and the older me who can’t believe the responsible parties weren’t dragged into a Senate hearing along with Twisted Sister and Motley Crue.Of all the potential candidates for dissection, though, for me one song rises again and again above the rest. It’s at least a few years later, and she now has a child, and this child … is Toothless Pete’s? You want me to believe that this guy — who couldn’t even be bothered (or perhaps couldn’t afford) to wear a jacket in the rain — turns out to be not Toothless Pete, but Don Juan?
Putting that aside for (only) a minute, can we talk about the fact that this song was released in 1990? It seems Ed specifically recorded this stunning slow jam titled “Make It Rain” to be the main song of an episode of the Season 7 of FX's "Sons of Anarchy”. And even if he was a talented lover, everyone who’s ever had a genuine one-night stand can tell you that, for all the big talk and romanticizing that follows, they’re usually pretty lame. By which I mean that period when good, God-fearing, straight white people were finally clueing into the fact that HIV didn’t just prey on gay men and heroin addicts?
It is, quite simply, a catalogue of aberrant behavior that somehow garnered and retains the reputation of a sweet and heartwarming ballad. You don’t know each other’s bodies, and blood alcohol levels are such that fine motor skills — not to mention erectile function — are often compromised.
Because what we’re coming to understand, now, is that the song’s narrator didn’t merely pick up a random guy on the side of the road, drag him to a hotel and have anonymous sex with him, but she did so without protection at pretty much the height of the AIDS epidemic.
The best one can hope for is that the sex is just good enough that you don’t completely rue the entire tawdry episode. She’s driving on a sodden country byway after dark, and spies a man standing on the shoulder.

So already this is tough to swallow — but our narrator isn’t yet finished with the hyperbole, as demonstrated when she ups the ante even further in the next couple of lines:He broke the woman in me So many times, easilyI confess that, not knowing exactly what it means to “break the woman” in someone, I had to ask a trusted female source what her interpretation of that phrase might be. And not only has she been cheating on her husband, but her tryst with Toothless Pete was less about a night of ill-advised passion and more about getting pregnant? God only knows what this guy’s story is — maybe he’s a drunk trying to get home, maybe he’s got a human head in a duffel bag — but it doesn’t really matter, because she’s safe inside her car, doing 60 or so, and she’ll buzz right past him. Perhaps he’s got his thumb out, in which case she, as a woman alone in the dead of night, should obviously not stop. Why, when she could hand-pick the seed of a 6’3” investment banker to “plant her tree,” does she instead risk rape, murder, dismemberment, disease, a scarlet letter, bedbugs and divorce on a single sex act that statistically will result in pregnancy only 5 percent of the time? Or perhaps he’s just standing there, not trying to catch a lift but rather staring dead-eyed at passing traffic as the rain pours down — in which case she should definitely never ever stop in a million years. First, like any good American, I’m accustomed to encountering both mixed metaphors and utter nonsense in my pop songs, but this is really beyond the pale. And by the way, if her husband is in fact sterile, and knows it, then how in hell did she explain the fact that she was suddenly pregnant?Or wait — was her husband IN ON IT?And this is the point at which — even as a man approaching mature adulthood — I finally lose it.
In either case, let’s not overlook the clues we do have here, most notably that the guy possesses neither an umbrella nor a coat.
No matter which angle you come at it from, the whole thing explodes like a watermelon at a Gallagher show by the third line.
At best he’s scatterbrained, at worst he’s a serial murderer oblivious to the weather because he’s hopped up on meth, and somewhere in between those two poles he’s a transient who may or may not harbor ill intent. And forget about trying to take it literally — what you end up with then is the visual of a flower and a seed strolling together through Eden, then pausing to somehow plant a tree despite the fact that neither of them has, you know, hands.
Or a shovel.Second, I find myself wondering if these are the words she actually wrote in the letter to her lover, or if this is some kind of paraphrase. Better still, probably, to try and continue to listen to the songs of my childhood with the ear of a child.
My desperate hope is that the latter is the case, that the actual note said something like “Dear Pete, thanks for a great time last night. After all, thanks to a sweet harmony and Ann Wilson’s opera-ready voice, “All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You” still sounds very romantic — so long as you don’t pay a lick of attention to the lyrics.
And even if she weren’t, even if in fact she were a little bit cracked, she still wouldn’t be foolish enough to pull over to the side of the road.
I understand it was a different time when the song was written — hell, even I hitched a ride once or twice back in the early ‘90s (though I hasten to add that I usually had to wait for a pickup truck to happen by, and then I was pointedly invited to sit in the bed, not the cab) — but really, has there ever been a time in America when it was considered no big deal for a woman to pick up a strange man on the side of a highway in the pouring rain in the middle of the night?

That no one in the history of humanity has ever actually, literally had sex from dusk until dawn? What on God’s blue orb is she thinking?He accepted with a smile —Oh man, she is in trouble and doesn’t even realize it. That it’s probably a lot more like “Ooh, we made love for, like, seven minutes or so, at which point he pleaded exhaustion and asked for a time-out, which was sort of a relief because he was dripping sweat in my eyes like Chinese water torture, and he flopped onto his back and lit a cigarette, which we shared, and when that was done we started up again and this time it lasted maybe five minutes tops, after which I took a shower while he turned on Letterman, and when I came back I found he’d gone to the vending machines and bought a bag of Cheetos, which he was eating in bed, which was mostly fine because it’s not like it was my bed at my house or anything”? Anyone who knows anything about psychopaths can tell you that they work very hard at ingratiating themselves to others and putting people at ease. In other words, they do things like smile broadly at women they mean to turn into soup.— so we drove for a whileThings are getting ever weirder, here.
There is no mention of any conversation whatsoever between the two — which fact, combined with her picking the guy up in the first place, has me wondering now which one of them is actually the psycho.
I mean, she appears perfectly comfortable with scooping up a stranger in her car and then taking off down the road without so much as a hello.I didn’t ask him his name, this lonely boy in the rain Fate tell me it’s right, is this love at first sightYou know, I’ve actually been on this date before. In the car?All I wanna do is make love to youListen, I’ve got no problem with casual sex if that’s what you’re in the market for, and I would never discourage anyone from seeking pleasure in whatever form. Let’s look at the circumstances: she’s picked up a homeless guy who may not even have been soliciting a ride in the first place.
And she has decided that the only thing in the world she wants is to drop the seats and make the Beast with Two Backs, right here, right now.Say you will, you want me tooLet’s be real. This guy just came out of the rain to find himself in the midst of a Penthouse Forum letter. Smart money says he’s on board with whatever she’s got planned.All I wanna do is make love to you I’ve got lovin’ arms to hold on toLovin’ arms? And even assuming that the object of her sudden and completely irrational lust is whole-bodied, it’s possible that his arms aren’t lovin’ at all. Even though I’m still convinced that this is a terrible idea, obviously it’s happening, and given that, I’m forced to grudgingly admit that  finding a hotel is a good move. It is, after all, a marginal improvement over getting frisky in the back of what is probably an ’84 Chevy Malibu.It was a place I knew wellNow wait one goddamn minute. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, here, and assume that maybe she works the front desk, or else is a traveling saleswoman or something.

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