No. 299: "I Go to Sleep," by The Pretenders (1981)
No. 298: "Let's Never Stop Falling in Love," by Pink Martini (2004)
This post is part of a countdown series on songs that have stuck in my head and are part of my iTunes "hit parade" of most-played tracks. See all the posts here.
A lot of songs are about the desire to stop time — that is, to be able to inhabit a moment of joy or passion forever. (Turning back time, as Cher can tell you, is quite different.) A three-minute song is a perfect way to express this idea, since it's long enough to get us into a specific mood and is short enough to leave us wanting more. The end of a good pop song is like the hot water running out while you're taking a shower. (Nooo!) I think most of us have had the experience of getting so infatuated by a new song that we play it over and over, trying to extend that moment, and even getting impatient waiting for the end so we can start again. (In the days of record players, I would stare at a 45 and move the needle back to the beginning as soon as the song ended. On an iPod, I often cut off the last few notes of a song in my haste to repeat the whole thing.)
My last post was about freezing time, though I didn't think of it until moving on to "I Go to Sleep" and "Let's Stop Falling in Love." Rufus Wainwright's "Sanssouci" is a fantasy about a carefree (or hedonistic) moment that seems to last forever. (Note: Bruce Springsteen has said, "I think part of what pop promised and rock promised was the never-ending now.") Ricky Nelson's "Gloomy Sunday" (a.k.a. "The Suicide Song") is a fantasy about ending one's life, which is the most certain way of stopping time as far as the singer is concerned. Even better, the song is about killing oneself in grief over a loved one. It may seem strange to want to lock oneself into a moment of such sadness forever, but the feeling must be so pure, so noble — and, OK, so narcissistic — that one can understand the temptation.
(Spoiler: This post ends on a happier note, but we're not there yet.)
When morning comes once more I have the loneliness you left me.
Each day drags by until finally night time descends on me.
I go to sleep, sleep, and imagine that you're there with me.
I go to sleep, sleep, and imagine that you're there with me.
Perhaps she spends much of the day standing in the middle of the floor, not going left and not going right. She may not be killing herself, but trying to boil her existence down to a nightly moment of intense lovesickness is pretty close. ("If that's the way she feels about it, why doesn't she just end it all?" I can hear Peggy Lee asking and answering.)
I didn't realize "I Go to Sleep" was so downbeat when I first started listening to it, but that's often the case with rock songs. (Maybe it appealed to my fondness for afternoon naps?) And I still like it. It's pretty and well-crafted, and now it has a layer of nostalgia for a moment in time (whenever it was in college that I first heard it) that I can never get back.
But not all time-freeze songs are about depression and suicide, and I promised to end with something more uplifting. Pink Martini's "Let's Never Stop Falling in Love" ponders what it would be like to spend eternity in the hopeful beginning rather than the shattered end (full lyrics here):
I wish a falling star could fall forever
And sparkle through the clouds and stormy weather
And in the darkness of the night
The star would shine a glimmering light
And hover above our love
...
I know a falling star can’t fall forever
But let’s never stop falling in love
See? Wanting to stop time isn't always depressing or creepy.
Besides the sweet sentiment, I also like this song because I saw Pink Martini perform it in concert and because I remember it playing over loudspeakers during one of Providence's WaterFire festivals (see image above). It matched the atmosphere perfectly (and WaterFire is more romantic than you'd think possible in New England). I can't find a WaterFire video, but this concert version of "Let's Never Stop Falling in Love" is worth playing a few times in a row. (If you want the album version, it's here.)
Clock image from Uncyclopedia.
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