In a rare moment of FM radio listening recently, I was taken back to my youth; Bryan Adams was the culprit. There’s something about a raspy voice that gets one’s adolescent juices flowing, don’t you agree? Bonnie Tyler knows the score. So do Rod Stewart, Sheryl Crow and that Amanda girl from American Idol.
What was interesting though, was that as I listened to Bryan croaking on about heaven, what came to me was only the memory of being carried away. Do you remember feeling that unmistakable mixture of romance, rebellion and longing for independence that somehow has a home in disproportionate bass lines and dramatic drum solos? Yeah. Me too.
Why, I wonder, is it only a memory? Why does this song, or any other for that matter, fail to carry me away into that realm of intensity today? Have I lost my ability to emote? My reaction to the toothpaste I found smeared on the laundry room wall the other day would certainly suggest otherwise. But I think that’s an emotion of a different ilk than what 1986’s top 40 could yield. To highlight what I mean, let’s take an in depth look at one of the decade in question’s finest raspy voiced offerings: Peter Cetera and The Glory of Love. Text in blue shows how I might have responded then, text in red shows how I would likely respond today.
You keep me standing tall
You help me through it all
I’m always strong when you’re beside me
I have always needed you
I could never make it alone
Of course you can make it alone. You can, and you will if you don’t stop sounding like such a wuss.
I am a man who would fight for your honor
I’ll be the hero you’ve been dreaming of
We’ll live forever knowing together
That we did it all for the glory of love
Totally! The GLORY OF LOVE!! That IS what it’s all about!
Exactly what situation would require my honor to be fought for I wonder. That lady that cut in front of me for the shady parking spot at WalMart the other day certainly could’ve used a talking-to, but frankly, the whole fighting for honor
thing’s a bit of a turn-off.
It’s like a knight in shining armor
From a long time ago
Just in time I will save the day
Take you to my castle far away
Be still my heart! Oh my gosh this songwriter TOTALLY knows the longings of my soul!
And who’s going to clean that castle, do you suppose?
Well, you get the idea.
You’ll be happy to know I have developed a theory. It stems from an actual auditory memory that I have involving this exact song (or one very much like it, I assure you). I actually remember the fading out of the unnecessarily repetitious final lyric and then the DJ’s cheery voice announcing, “Time to flip over!” This was for the benefit of those of us who were “laying out.” This was obviously before people knew that “laying out” meant “cancering up.” Could it be that all the emotional viscosity of our youth can be attributed to the effects of the sun?
Well, barring some impossible scientific research, there is no way to know for sure, and I am left with a fist full of perhapses. Perhaps it was the sun. Perhaps today’s youth are able to make some sense of the disjointed lyrics of their music and therefore feel just as I did. Perhaps life’s responsibilities will catch up with them one day, too. Then again, perhaps there’s nothing I can say, I’ve got a total eclipse of the heart.
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