I’ve always had a special affinity for the soft rock hits of the ‘70s and ‘80s. As an (admittedly odd) adolescent I’d lay in bed, listening for hours in the dark to K-Lite, Phoenix’s easy listening radio station. There was something warm and comforting about soft rock that I really connected with, even if I couldn’t understand the complications of love that artists like Phil Collins and Ambrosia sang about. I may have been the only eleven-year-old in 1992 who had a crush on Peter Cetera.
My college boyfriend had a similar fascination with genre, though his was more cynical than mine, and eventually I crossed over to the snarky side too. We’d sit around our apartment making fun of sappy songs like Air Supply’s “Making Love Out Of Nothing At All,” laughing at the angst of gentle rock stars. That’s an activity reserved solely for 21-year-old jerks who’ve never actually been hurt by love.
One day he turned on Gilbert O’Sullivan’s “Alone Again (Naturally),” a song I had somehow missed in my dorky adolescence. I remember my boyfriend dancing around sarcastically to the song, bursting into giggles at the song’s most melodramatic moments and me laughing at how utterly ridiculous the song was. I mean, look at its repeated phrase, the closest O’Sullivan gets to a refrain: “alone again… naturally.” Here I am, all by my lonesome, nobody cares about me – and of course they don’t, who could blame them?, he seemed to be saying. I mean, how self-defeating and wimpy can you get? Somebody clearly needed to take some self-empowerment classes, or at least listen to some disco.
It wasn’t until years later, living in New York and having gone through a few rounds of being alone myself, that I returned to the song in a moment of post-breakup weakness and realized with shock how utterly, crushingly sad the song is.
He goes:
In a little while from now
If I’m not feeling any less sour
I promised myself to treat myself and visit a nearby tower
And climbing to the top, will throw myself off
In an effort to make it clear to whoever
What it’s like when you’re shattered
And later:
As if to knock me down, reality came around
And without so much as a mere touch
Cut me into little pieces
Leaving me to doubt,
Talk about God and His mercy
Oh, if He really does exist
Why did He desert me
In my hour of need?
I truly am indeed
Alone again, naturally
I listened closely to the lyrics and realized that the guy is singing about suicide contemplation, being left at the altar, adult orphanhood, and questioning the very existence of God. How even if you find love in this godforsaken world, you will eventually end up either dead, or alone and THEN dead. It seems the line between melodrama and tragedy is thinner than we ever thought, and it’s drawn in the form of a feathered haircut and polyester suit.
I’ve often thought this would be the perfect song to sing at karaoke, the kind you only sing at 3am, very drunk, and make everyone in the room feel super-awkward before throwing down the mic and stumbling offstage. (Works best if you exist in a movie montage about broken heart-itude.) But then I saw this video of Gilbert O’Sullivan singing it, his performance peppered with the puppy-dog eyes, cocked head and subtly angry tapping of toes that are the hallmarks of bitter solitude and I wondered, how can any human with a beating heart sing this song aloud without bursting into sobs?
Through the many romantic disappointments of my twenties, “Alone Again (Naturally)” became something of a standard in my pity-party playlists. Like “Against All Odds” or “Superstar,” if you haven’t yet arrived at the fierce, Beyoncé stage of singleness, “Alone Again” is the perfect song to wallow to. Just lay down on the floor and look up at the ceiling and listen to this song and think about how terrible everything is. It’s even better if you have a rainy window to look out of as you sing along to the words. Because there’s something in this song’s earnestness that is still kind of funny. Diving into your despair with a song like this is a great way to realize how ridiculous you’re being.
Listening to “Alone Again” when you’re down is the pop/soft rock equivalent of George Michael Bluth walking around with the Vince Guaraldi Trio’s “Christmas Time Is Here” in the background. Sometimes there’s nothing to do but hang your head, slump and mope around, and if you actually do it, the sense of self-indulgent woe becomes so heightened that it turns cartoonish, and you have to stop. It creates a distance between you and your own melancholy, like a reverse-psychology Chicken Soup For The Soul.
The song was listed #5 in Casey Kasem’s “American Top 40 of the 1970s,” just a few notches behind Debby Boone’s “You Light Up My Life.” You could say it was the anthem for the lonely people at the singles’ tables at the weddings of those people dancing to Boone’s saccharine ballad. In later years O’Sullivan waged a number of legal battles trying to protect the song from commercialization and sampling, saying he didn’t want the song to be tarnished since “it means so much to some people.” The wallowers of the world had someone on their side, protecting their ultimate moping theme song from derision.
What is it about this song that gives me such pleasure? The song’s repetition of crescendos and cascades not only make it undeniably catchy; they also mimic the pattern of hope and disappointment that the lyrics reference. But how is it that “Alone Again” makes me want to both laugh and cry in the space of a few bars? Do minor keys really have that much power?
I think it’s the song’s utter earnestness that makes me feel simultaneously sarcastic and tender. It’s a defense mechanism followed closely by the thing it’s defending.
There’s a reason this song belongs to the same era as half-dissolves and flowy dresses and wispy hair: in soft rock, gentleness was king. Sincerity was all. From a modern perspective, Gilbert O’Sullivan’s blatant vulnerability is scary and sad and, above all, relatable. These days, we never want to show that pathetic, defeated part of ourselves; it’s easier to laugh it away, make fun of it, because to be weak is silly. Better yet is to overdramatize, indulging oneself in the soaring melisma of so many American Idols. But in an era where a man could sing a song about overwhelming self-pity while surrounded by sweeping violins and a guitar soloist in a black turtleneck, and still make it the #5 song of the decade, there was proof that there’s something in all of us that, sometimes, just needs to feel sorry for ourselves. “Alone Again (Naturally)” gives us permission to pull up the corners of our mouths, regardless of whether it’s in a wince or smile.
I also love this song, but I hate it when I hear it in public. Then the inevitable internal struggle: “Don’t cry don’t cry, don’t even listen to the words, gee I wonder how many ceiling tiles this room has let’s count OH GOD HIS MOTHER IS DYING OF A BROKEN HEART, no no, just blink a bunch, you’re fine, pretend there’s something in your eye, it’s fine you’re fine we’re all fine.”
Also applies to Mr. Bojangles.
Mr.Bojangles gets me every time, as does Elton John’s “Daniel’s leaving tonight on a plane…” (Gah, I’m getting weepy just THINKING about it; don’t just let Daniel get on that plane without saying “I love yoooooooo”)
OH GOD Mr. Bojangles you guys I’m tearing up just thinking about it.
That wallowing-to-the-point-of-ridiculousness can be really helpful for certain stages of depression. I’ll just lie in the middle of the floor with a towel over my head and whine until I start to giggle.
Right? I go chain smoke and sulk in the cemetery behind my apartment until I feel too ridiculous and can laugh at myself, at least.
Yeah!! And when I’m grumpy and irritable for no reason I fold my arms high and stomp around like a toddler until I feel better.
K-LITE!!! Well that brings me back.
I was more of a KOOL 94.5 girl, but ditto!
I’m old enough to remember when this song was new. I was young then, but I listened intently to pop songs to learn about what grown up life was like. At the time I remember thinking, “man, grown up love is tough”. Now, it’s that line about his mom brings on the tears. It is a heartbreaking thing to comfort your mom when your dad dies. I take that shit seriously now.
I LOVE SOFT ROCK I LOVE GORDON LIGHTFOOT I LOVE JIM CROCE I LOVE CAT STEVENS I LOVE DAN FOGELBERG I LOVE DON MCLEAN
Gordon Lightfoot is coming to my rinky-dink town HALLOWEEN NIGHT! And yes, I do have at least two Gordon Lightfoot CD’s that partner and I have blasted at all hours of the night while dancing around in the living room, much to the chagrin and delight of our neighbours.
I LOVE A RAINY NIGHT
My husband told me that Al “Time Passages” “Year of the Cat” Stewart was one of his clients and I shrieked so loud I scared the cat.
Dating my now-husband, I knew we were compatible when The Day The Music Died began playing on the radio as he had just parked the truck. Without a look, without a word, we both sat there in the idling pickup, not getting out until the very end. It was the long version, y’all.
I was in a wedding a few weeks ago. The wedding party was being driven to a photography location in downtown LA in an enormous Lakers-themed limo (I don’t know), and The Day the Music Died came on, and one by one people started singing quietly, and then all of a sudden everyone was singing, together but also by ourselves. It was this beautiful thing, and no one felt the need to talk about it afterwards. I like to think we are all like Mary in the Christmas story, treasuring it in our hearts.
Are y’all talking about “American Pie” or is there another song with that title?
Oh hells yes Jim Croce.
The number of times I listened to “Time in a Bottle” during my lovelorn teenage years and realy FELT IT is frankly embarrassing. I love him so much.
My hippie 5th grade art teacher played Don McLean’s “Vincent” for us, turned off all the lights and made us put our heads down and “just really listen to the words, kids.” Ever since that day I’ve been hooked.
SHE RAN CALLING “WIIIIIIILLLDD–FIIIIRRE”
it’s easier to laugh it away, make fun of it, because to be weak is silly
Have you been listening in on my therapy sessions?
Seriously, though this is actually a really good article, and I like what you had to say about the way so much of our culture is emotionally dishonest and knee-jerk cynical in our response to earnestness.
NEGL, I love me those angsty rock songs. SING IT ENRIQUE. I love that earnest broken-hearted stuff because it keeps my bitter, shriveled heart from becoming completely brittle.
Why, why did you make me *think* about the lyrics?! Now when this comes on at the dentist’s office they are going to think I’m a weirdo when I insist they change the station.
I used to just tune out and follow the see-saw pattern of the rhythm in the song. And that flute-y outro!!! Ugh.
The “lite rock” song that creeeeeeeps me out is…. The Year of The Cat. It’s just the way Al Stewart sings it, all Esss-y and curling around the r’s. Shivers.
I once “watched” an entire 2 hour infomercial for a soft rock 70’s CD collection and revelled in the music snippets. Sad, but true.
Oh, yes my internet stranger friend. Oh yes.
This essay is a magnet, and I am steel.
I describe my friendship with one of my friends thus: We were the only two 15-year-old girls in 1992 who were big ELO fans.
Not to take anything away from Gilbert because I am a serious 70s easy rock fangirl, but have you heard Nina Simone’s version? She reworked the lyrics to talk about her father’s death. It’s pretty special.
http://youtu.be/1FOhboyfn4Q
I just realized that She’s an Angel by They Might Be Giants may well be an homage to this song- at least the verses.I don’t know how to embed, but here’s a link: http://youtu.be/zZ4J-jvDAuQ
I just spent a very confused three minutes and forty-two seconds wondering why this didn’t sound like any Gilbert AND Sullivan song that I had ever heard.
You know, like “I am the very model of the melancholic major general”.
ME TOO
I have a long-standing grudge against Gilbert O’Sullivan for clogging up my internet search results when I wanted Gilbert and Sullivan as a teen. I see his name and I just go ‘grrrr’.
I’d like to do a shoutout to “Seasons in the Sun”. How anyone managed to keep from strangling the narrator on his deathbed, I’ll never know.
Oh god, now THERE’s a song. There’s a version by Black Box Recorder that gets me in the gut but the original does, too.
“See the tree, how big it’s grown, but friends it hasn’t been too long, it wasn’t big, I laughed at her and she got mad, the first day that we planted it, ’twas just a twig…” “And Honey I miss you, and I’m bein’ good…”
My no-Google recollection.
Colin Firth’s character says this in “Love, Actually” and I wondered if it was an intentional reference. He says it with the comma/pause and it summoned up the song for me. There were giggles in the theatre that led me to think I wasn’t the only one.
I've always hated this song, not for it failing but succeeding. So I also love it. For me it's brilliance is in the title of crescendoing pathos. Alone (sad) Again (sadder) Naturally (saddest). But he extends It beyond himself to late-in-life love lost (mom's). Your review is insightful and spot on!
I was in a wedding a few weeks ago. The wedding party was being driven to a photography location in downtown LA in an enormous Lakers-themed limo (I don't know), and The Day the Music Died came on, and one by one people started singing quietly, and then all of a sudden everyone was singing, together but also by ourselves. It was this beautiful thing, and no one felt the need to talk about it afterwards. I like to think we are all like Mary in the Christmas story, treasuring it in our hearts.
Not sad! I've done it, too!
I cannot even begin to express how much this means to me. I love soft rock and always will.
Oh my god. As a kid, I was a devout listener to the Dallas area’s “good times; great oldies” station, so I first heard this song when I was 10. I realized there was something incredibly grave about the lyrics even if my child brain couldn’t process just HOW depressing they were yet. Now I wail along with it sometimes.To harken back to Arrested Development, it’s the equivalent of “gross sobbing in the shower” music.
I just spent a very confused three minutes and forty-two seconds wondering why this didn’t sound like any Gilbert AND Sullivan song that I had ever heard.