The true beauty of music is revealed in its most subtle transitions - those fleeting moments which soar so high you feel they could take you anywhere.
The devastating delivery of the final line of Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell. The gorgeous convergence of synth and oboe during the extended version of Say Hello, Wave Goodbye by Soft Cell. The Vox Teardrop guitar break in The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen. The quiver in Gram Parsons' voice when he sings "But I don't want no one but you to love me" in Hot Burrito #1.
We all have our own versions of this alchemy. Some of them - Wichita Lineman, for example - have the ability to connect with many of us. It is, after all, the ultimate hymn to loneliness.
Dylan Jones wrote a brilliant book about the song (if this sounds indulgent, it isn't) and in a 2019 article he reports that a New York University professor believes that we hang onto songs because they are part of our "identity construction" and potentially help us get back to "our lost paradise".
In the case of Wichita Lineman, the emotional connection and weight of loneliness is something we can all relate to. But this sense of "our lost paradise" is something altogether more personal because only we know the importance of certain moments in our life, big and, more often, small.
Of the songs listed above, the one that really stays with me is Say Hello, Wave Goodbye. It's an incredible piece of music beloved by many of my generation but, when I think about it now, there are two reasons why it's so special to me.
Firstly, it is set in the town where I was born and co-written by someone who grew up round the corner. It all feels very close to home. But secondly and arguably more significant is the timing. I was a teenager when the single was released - everything was possible, everything was in front of me. Hopes and dreams. Heartbreak and disappointment. For the first time these were not just nouns in a dictionary, they were feelings I was starting to experience. Life's rollercoaster was suddenly speeding up and this song soundtracked that perfectly - it could make you smile and make you cry at the same time. It still can.
Of course, few of us analysed the song like that at the time - it was just a great pop song. But on reflection it's a pop song that means so much more - even the title captures the thrill of meeting and the pain of leaving in just four words. It's a stunning snapshot of life's great adventure, its transcendental highs and its crushing lows and I, for one, am grateful to have it on the journey with me.
13 Comments
11 more comments...No posts
I echo your thoughts totally. I thought it was a simple but haunting pop song when it came out. Fast forward three decades or so and I searched for it when I needed it. And I understood it so much more - a piercing anthem to the transient nature of love. The "Take your hands of me" line sends shivers down my spine.
Crackin read that chief... Music is Everything... 😀