Didn't You Know How Much I Loved You - Reception

Reception

Jim Malec of The 9513 gave the song a thumbs-up rating. Although he described the verses as "disposable and generic", he thought that the song's hook compensated. "“Didn’t you know how much I loved you?” is a great hook. Great enough that we’re not going to remember how average the rest of the song is, only the tremendous power of those words." He also complimented her vocals: "Pickler hits the song’s melodic peak she’s soaring, squeezing out every bit of power and emotion her voice can muster." Roughstock reviewer Bobby Peacock also described the verses as "pedestrian" but added, "ith a good enough vocal performance, even a trite lyric can be elevated greatly." His review also desecribes the title hook favorably. Kevin J. Coyne of Country Universe gave the song a C rating. "There’s such an incongruity between the softly sung verses and the bombastic chorus that it’s hard to get a handle on how she’s asking the titular question. Is she angry? Sad? Disappointed? Disbelieving? Take any twenty seconds of the song, and you might get a different answer."

Read more about this topic:  Didn't You Know How Much I Loved You

Famous quotes containing the word reception:

    To the United States the Third World often takes the form of a black woman who has been made pregnant in a moment of passion and who shows up one day in the reception room on the forty-ninth floor threatening to make a scene. The lawyers pay the woman off; sometimes uniformed guards accompany her to the elevators.
    Lewis H. Lapham (b. 1935)

    I gave a speech in Omaha. After the speech I went to a reception elsewhere in town. A sweet old lady came up to me, put her gloved hand in mine, and said, “I hear you spoke here tonight.” “Oh, it was nothing,” I replied modestly. “Yes,” the little old lady nodded, “that’s what I heard.”
    Gerald R. Ford (b. 1913)

    Aesthetic emotion puts man in a state favorable to the reception of erotic emotion.... Art is the accomplice of love. Take love away and there is no longer art.
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858–1915)