The Persephone of contemporary music is back! Christina Perri may be known more now for her big hits like A Thousand Years and Jar of Hearts, but I think over time (and it could take decades) her most recent album A Lighter Shade of Blue will only grow in stature within the public music sphere. It’s such a quiet gem, full of tender, heartfelt ballads which I’ve found to be the most moving collections of love songs I’ve heard on one album. There isn’t even a close second. I just hope that amidst the demands of motherhood, Christina will return to songwriting again soon since her natural talent is still clearly bursting at the seams.
Perri’s journey – through addiction up until around 2012 and the tragic loss of her daughter Rosie in 2020 – reminds me of the Greek myth of Persephone, who moves between the underworld and the living world. As the myth goes, her return each year brings spring, growth, and renewal to the earth. That image of rebirth – emerging from a place of deep sorrow and carrying life and softness with you – feels especially present in today’s featured song, Roses in the Rain. I adore how Perri holds that quiet, feminine energy, and how she captures the beauty of nurturing something new after loss.
Roses in the Rain is one of the most gentle songs on the album. Despite what seems like just a simple song and melody – with lines such as ‘Maybe in a little while, I’ll put some coffee on‘ – Perri captures something deeply emotional and beautiful within the mundane. Her live performance below of the song on The Kelly Clarkson Show really brings that to the surface. There’s vulnerability in the way she sings it, but also calm and strength. Not many singer-songwriters can embody a song in a way that feels so honest and lived-in, like she does here.
[Verse 1] Monday morning, see the children on their way to school Clouds are hangin’ low around my heart, the air is cool I’ve got the strangest feelin’, like I’m waiting for a train Lookin’ out the window at the roses in the rain
[Verse 2] I walked around the supermarket, talking to myself The man behind the counter asked me if I need some help I knew that he could see it, but he didn’t know what to say So I asked him if he knew about the roses in the rain
[Verse 3] Maybe in a little while, I’ll put some coffee on Can’t stop wonderin’ where the spirits go when they are gone Maybe it was tomorrow, but it felt like today You and I were walkin’, you and I were walkin’ You and I were walkin’ through the roses in the rain
The last time I heard Jessie’s Girl played, I assumed I’d already written about it – since I always got a kick out of it during my late teens and early adulthood. That’s when I first heard it in nightclubs, like one called The Bin in Canberra (Australia’s capital). We’d slam dance to it – purposely crashing into each other in wave-like unison on the dance floor (as you do). Boys will be boys, as they say. It was a lot of fun at the time, though looking back, pretty reckless and just plain ol’ stupid. Anyway, strangely, I overlooked Jessie’s Girl in my Music Library Project – perhaps because I’d already written about Joshua Kadison’s breezier romantic escapade, Jessie (1993), and confused the two.
Jessie’s Girl had fallen off my radar until I heard it again in Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Golden Age of Porn” movie, Boogie Nights. This fairly innocent song about the unrequited love of a young man for his best friend’s girlfriend is used to great – and oddly jarring – effect in one of the most nail-biting scenes of the film. It’s where the junkie protagonists – Dirk, Reed, and their unhinged friend Todd Parker – try to scam local drug dealer Rahad Jackson by selling him a half-kilo of baking soda disguised as cocaine. Now, finally, onto some detail of the song itself… First and foremost, I had no idea this was an Australian song until reading about it just now.
The following was abridged from the Wikipedia article below: Jessie’s Girl is a song written and performed by Australian singer Rick Springfield. It was released on the album Working Class Dog, which was released in February 1981. Upon its release in the United States Jessie’s Girl was slow to break out taking 19 weeks to hit No. 1. It remained in that position for two weeks and would be Springfield’s only No. 1 hit. It won him a Grammy Award for Best Male Rock Vocal Performance at the 24th Annual Grammy Awards.
Background Rick Springfield was taking a stained glass class. Also in the class was his friend Gary as well as Gary’s girlfriend. Springfield initially wanted to use the actual name of his friend, but instead decided to go with a different name. He chose “Jessie” because he was wearing a T-shirt with the name of football player Ron Jessie on it.
Springfield says that he does not remember the name of the girlfriend, and he believes that the real woman who inspired the song has no idea that she was “Jessie’s Girl“. He told Oprah Winfrey, “I was never really introduced to her. It was always just, like, panting from afar.” Winfrey’s people tried to find her, and they got as far back as finding out that the teacher of the class had died two years previously and that his class records were thrown out one year after his death.
I used to go off in the bathroom, because the bathroom had tiles, so it was a slight echo chamber. I’d turn on the faucet so that water would run (I like that sound, it’s very soothing to me) and I’d play. In the dark. ‘Hello darkness, my old friend / I’ve come to talk with you again‘.
– Paul Simon
Like its title suggests, The Sound of Silence strips awareness down to its bare essence. It opens with a gentle, almost quaint guitar line and tiptoes forward as the narrator welcomes a deep connection with solitude and darkness. That quiet encounter plants seeds in his consciousness, which then sprout into a reflective journey – one that reveals a world numbed by indifference, injustice, and material excess.
Paul Simon wrote the song just three months after the assassination of President Kennedy, when he was only 21. It was released in early 1964. Following the tragedy, Simon (as he said above) locked himself in his family’s bathroom, searching for words in the silence.
The song has become so deeply woven into our cultural fabric that even the Catholic Church here in Colombia adapted its melody for a song called Padre Nuestro (Our Father) – much like they did with Dylan’s Blowin’ in the Wind, turning it into Saber Que Vendras (Know That You Will Come).
I think I first became aware of The Sound of Silence while watching the 1967 film The Graduate, a staple in our household. In fact, it’s hard for me to hear this legendary track without instantly thinking of that film.
Most of the following was condensed from the Wikipedia article below:
Simon & Garfunkel originally recorded an acoustic version for their debut album and received disappointing sales. An overdubbed electric version was released the next year, without S & G’s knowledge and went to No, 1 on the Billboard. Apart from The Graduate soundtrack album,The Sound of Silence was additionally released on the Mrs. Robinson EP in 1968, along with three other songs from the film: Mrs. Robinson, April Come She Will, and Scarborough Fair/Canticle. Interestingly, Bob Dylan drew upon arrangements by Martin Carthy – who introduced him to Scarborough Fair– and even retained a line from its refrain in his song Girl From The North Country: “Remember me to one who lives there, she once was a true love of mine.”
Origin Simon & Garfunkel billed themselves “Kane & Garr”, after old recording pseudonyms, and signed up for Gerde’s Folk City, a Greenwich Village club that hosted Monday night performances. In September 1963, the duo’s performances caught the attention of Columbia Records producer Tom Wilson, a young African-American musician and producer who would later help guide Bob Dylan’s transition from folk to rock. Simon convinced Wilson to let him and his partner have a studio audition; their performance of The Sound of Silence got the duo signed to Columbia.
[Verse 1] Hello, darkness, my old friend I’ve come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence
[Verse 2] In restless dreams, I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone ‘Neath the halo of a street lamp I turned my collar to the cold and damp When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light That split the night And touched the sound of silence
[Verse 3] And in the naked light, I saw Ten thousand people, maybe more People talking without speaking People hearing without listening People writing songs that voices never shared And no one dared Disturb the sound of silence
[Verse 4] “Fools,” said I, “You do not know Silence, like a cancer, grows Hear my words that I might teach you Take my arms that I might reach you” But my words, like silent raindrops, fell And echoed in the wells of silence
[Verse 5] And the people bowed and prayed To the neon god they made And the sign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls And tenement halls And whispered in the sound of silence”
The Show Goes On is a moving and poignant song which I first heard in the movie Backdraft during the training scenes of a rookie in a Chicago Firefighting department. Although Backdraft received mixed reviews I enjoyed watching it in my early adulthood particularly the scene when today’s featured music appears. Hornsby’s voice embodies a sense of intimacy and narrative which draws you in, like it does with his big hit – The Way It Is.
After all these years listening to The ShowGoes On, I still find it an emotional and immersive experience because of Hornsby’s singing and the skilfully crafted arrangement. It includes a nice piano solo in the middle, and a sweet little electric guitar solo towards the end of the song.
Bruce Hornsby clarified the meaning of The Show Goes On In a 2019 interview here with John Beaudin:
“It’s about a girl who uses bad judgement. It’s about a girl that I (the singer) really like, and I see her falling for the wrong guys who use her. She’s on a long list of victims. The “show” is basically she’s putting on this show and everyone’s just gossiping about her”.
The song was not a single but remains a popular song from Bruce Hornsby’s catalogue. It comes from his second album – Scenes From the South Side. The single The Valley Road from the record was Hornsby’s third (and last) Top 10 U.S. hit, peaking at number five on the Billboard.Also it became his third chart-topper on the Billboard adult contemporary chart, following The Way It Is and Mandolin Rain.
[Verse 1] What’s the long face, what’s all the crying for? Didn’t you expect it when you opened your door? To the man with the long coat, and the long list of victims Everybody watching knows he’s the one keeping the score
[Pre-Chorus] From where she sits, everyone stands in judgment People watching as the curtain falls down See the lights do a long slow fade
[Chorus] The show goes on, and the sad-eyed sisters go walking on Everyone watching all along The show goes on As the autumn’s coming and the summer’s all gone Still without you, the show goes on
[Verse 2] Some say she’s alright, some say she’ll never learn Some rush into things, some stand and wait their turn I’ve been here all along standing here all this time But you never noticed, just let the same tired flames burn
[Bridge] Time is passing, slowly passing you by You better try, try to find it before it passes you by As I watch you walking to another cold dawn And you keep on walking And they keep on talking Talking all along
[Outro] Oh, the summer’s all gone Still without you, the show goes on Oh-oh, oh, the summer’s all gone Still without you, the show goes on
References: 1. Scenes from the Southside – Wikipedia
Thanks to the Coen Brothers for reviving the folk ballad The Shoals of Herring in their film Inside Llewyn Davis. Oscar Isaac, who plays the down-on-his-luck protagonist Llewyn Davis, delivers a tender rendition of the song to his father in a care facility — moments before the poignancy is undercut by the father soiling himself just as the final notes fade. The scene is consistent with the film’s tone, portraying Llewyn as a lost soul trapped in a brutal world where relentless misfortune hammers him at every turn. They sure did give him a lot of crosses to bear. However, the version of The Shoals of Herring I want to look at today is Luke Kelly and the Dubliners version.
The following was condensed from the two Wikipedia articles below: Originally written by Ewan MacColl in 1960 for a BBC radio documentary called Singing the Fishing, the song became a staple among folk singers and was later popularized by The Dubliners. MacColl wrote it after interviewing real-life herring fishers, and it reflects the gritty reality of their lives. He wrote that the song was based on the life of Sam Larner, a fisherman and traditional singer from Winterton-on-Sea, Norfolk, England. You can hear MacColl’s original here. Liam Clancy (The Clancy Brothers) said the following about the song (which he said was one of the most requested) before his version here: “he (MacColl) tape recorded all the old fisherman up along the east coast of England. And he never used one word of his own. … He rhymed the lines that the fishermen had given him, and he made it into a song…”
The Dubliners were an Irish folk band founded in Dublin in 1962. The line-up saw many changes in personnel over their fifty-year career, but the group’s success was centred on lead singers Luke Kelly and Ronnie Drew. The band garnered international success with their lively Irish folk songs, traditional street ballads and instrumentals. Luke Kelly was more of a balladeer than Drew, and he played chords on the five-string banjo. Kelly sang many defining versions of traditional songs including today’s song The Shoals of Herring.
In 1980, Luke Kelly was diagnosed with a brain tumour. Occasionally Kelly was too ill to sing though he was sometimes able to join the band for a few songs. While on tour in Germany he collapsed on stage. He continued to tour with the band until two months before his death. Kelly died on 30 January 1984. One of the last concerts in which he took part was recorded and released: Live in Carré, recorded in Amsterdam, Netherlands, released in 1983. In November 2004, the Dublin city council voted unanimously to erect a bronze statue of Luke Kelly.
With our nets and gear we’re faring On the wild and wasteful ocean It’s out there on the deep we harvest and reap Our bread As we hunt the bonnie shoals of herring
O, it was a fine and a pleasant day Out of Yarmouth harbour I was faring As a cabin boy on a sailing lugger We were following the shoals of herring
Now you’re up on deck, you’re a fisherman You can swear and show a manly bearing Take your turn and watch with the other fellas As you’re hunting for the shoals of herring
Now we fished the Swarth and the Broken Bank I was cook and I’d a quarter-sharing And I used to sleep standing on me feet As we hunted for the shoals of herring
We left the home grounds in the month of June And for canny Shields we soon were bearing With a hundred cran of the silver darlings That we’d taken from the shoals of herring
In the stormy seas and the living gales Just to earn your daily bread you’re faring From the Dover Straits to the Faroe Islands And you’re hunting for the shoals of herring
Well, I earned me keep and I paid me way And I earned the gear that I was wearing Sailed a million miles, caught ten million fishes We were hunting after shoals of herring
You’re net ropeman now, boy you’re on the move And you’re learning all about seafaring That’s your education, scraps of navigation As you hunt the bonnie shoals of herring
Night and day the seas we’re daring Come wind or calm or winter gale Sweating or cold, growing up, growing old Or dying As you hunt the bonnie shoals of herring
Here endeth the short trip down Australian music lane, prompted by the Top 30 Australian songs listing by the Australasian Performing Right Association (APRA). Being Aussie, my blog is choc-full of Australian songs, though most lean more towards the independent and lesser-known side than the commercial hits I’ve highlighted over the last few days — including today’s heavy-rock mega-hit from that APRA list.
Now, heavy rock or metal aren’t exactly my go-to genres, but every now and then something blows my musical senses — like Metallica’s One, or let’s just have at it — AC/DC’s It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll).
It’s a Long Way is about the grind and hardship of rock ’n’ roll bands trying to make it big. The irony, though, is that AC/DC make it sound so effortless — with fantastic writing, scorching instrumentals (featuring one of rock’s most iconic guitar riffs and a bagpipe solo to die for), and Bon Scott’s voice slicing through the air like a razor. He sings about bad conditions: poorly paid gigs in dodgy venues, endless time on the road in cheap transport, and dealing with everything from hostile crowds to plain hard living.
Unlike so many other heavy rock tracks, I never tire of this early masterpiece from the legendary group. It’s a Long Way to the Top sits as my joint favourite AC/DC song alongside their later smash-hit Thunderstruck — which, rest assured, won’t take long to turn up here. Long Way is the first track of the group’s second album T.N.T., released only in Australia and New Zealand on 8 December 1975, and was written by Angus Young, Malcolm Young and Bon Scott. Despite being one of the band’s most popular songs, AC/DC chose to retire the song from live performance out of respect for Scott following his death.
ACDC were formed in Sydney in 1973 and became Australia’s most successful musical export selling over 200 million records worldwide, making them one of the best-selling artists of all time. They are cited as a formative influence on the new wave of British heavy metal bands and were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2003.
The music video below was filmed in 1976 for a budget of $380. It features the band and the members of the Rats of Tobruk Pipe band on the back of a flatbed truck travelling on Swanston Street in Melbourne. A street, by the way I’m more than familiar with, having worked just a block away.
[Intro] Alright
[Verse 1] Ridin’ down the highway Goin’ to a show Stoppin’ on the byways Playin’ rock ‘n’ roll
[Pre-Chorus] Gettin’ robbed, gettin’ stoned Gettin’ beat up, broken-boned Gettin’ had, gettin’ took I tell you, folks, it’s harder than it looks
[Chorus] It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll If you think it’s easy doin’ one-night stands Try playin’ in a rock-roll band It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll
[Verse 2] Hotel, motel Make you wanna cry Ladies do the hard sell Know the reason why
[Pre-Chorus] Gettin’ old, gettin’ grey Gettin’ ripped off, underpaid Gettin’ sold, second-hand That’s how it goes, playin’ in a band
There are few, if any Aussie songs more ‘true blue‘ and ‘dinky-dy’ than Men at Work’s – Down Under. It’s yet another song which made the all-time Top 30 Australian songs listed by the Australasian Performing Right Association (APRA). It came in at No. 4 just below Midnight Oil’s – Beds are Burning (1987) which featured here way back in 2019. Down Under is just a hoot, showcasing Australian’s unique humour, lexicon and openness traits. It’s beyond catchy and simply leaves the listener more jovial and lighthearted than before they went in. Also, there is perhaps no other Australian song more internationally recognised as quintessential ‘Aussie’ than Down Under.
Australia is referred to as Down Under due to its location in the Southern Hemisphere. The term originated from the perspective of European explorers who viewed Australia as being “below” the rest of the known world. The song further popularised the nickname.
Down Under was originally self-released in 1980 as a B-side to their first local single before the band signed a recording contract with Columbia Records. The slightly faster re-release went to number one in Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the United States. In fact it stayed at No. 1 in the US for four consecutive weeks and selling over 2 million copies alone. Even I had no idea how big a hit it was – at least not until I just read that. I assumed it was a sleeper hit and developed more of a cult status over the decades, but not to be.
Down Under remains popular of course and is often played at sporting events. As part of Triple M’s “Ozzest 100“, (an Australian radio station) – the ‘most Australian‘ songs of all time so far, Down Under was ranked number 2 behind Cold Chisel’s Khe Sanh which was yesterday’s featured track. Down Under is perceived as a patriotic song in Australia, but co-founder and co-writer Colin Hay described the meaning of the lyric as follows:
The chorus is really about the selling of Australia in many ways, the overdevelopment of the country. It was a song about the loss of spirit in that country. It’s really about the plundering of the country by greedy people. It is ultimately about celebrating the country, but not in a nationalistic way and not in a flag-waving sense. It’s really more than that.
As I ease my way out of bloggerland for today, I just saw Men at Work are still touring. They are currently appearing at the The Great South Bay Music Festival at Shorefront Park in Patchogue, New York.
Traveling in a fried-out Kombi On a hippie trail, head full of zombie I met a strange lady, she made me nervous She took me in and gave me breakfast And she said
[Chorus] “Do you come from a land down under? Where women glow and men plunder Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder? You better run, you better take cover”
[Verse 2] Buyin’ bread from a man in Brussels He was six-foot-four and full of muscle I said, “Do you speak-a my language?” He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich And he said
[Chorus]
[Verse 3] Lyin’ in a den in Bombay With a slack jaw, and not much to say I said to the man, “Are you trying to tempt me? Because I come from the land of plenty” And he said
We continue our journey down the Australian music rabbit hole with another one of the all-time Top 30 Australian songs listed by the Australasian Performing Right Association (APRA). Khe Sanh by Cold Chisel entails the testimony of a Vietnam Veteran dealing with his return to civilian life. It is one of the most popular songs ever recorded by an Australian act and generally seen as a resonant symbol of the Australian culture. Allmusic describes it as, “a song that will forever epitomize this period of Australian music.” It has been included in the National Film and Sound Archive of Australia.
When I was a Navy Midshipman undergoing three years of training, Khe Sanh became our unofficial anthem. At every pub we hit while on leave, the song would come on and we’d chant it at the top of our lungs, parading in a circle with our arms around each other’s shoulders. So it’s befitting Khe Sanh is recognised as part of a sub genre of music called Pub Rock (Australia) which is named after the live music circuit in inner-city and suburban pubs (known as bars in the US). It peaked in popularity throughout the 1970s and 1980s, and still influences Australian music today. These often noisy, hot, small and crowded venues favoured loud, riff-based heavy rock – more hard-edged than British pub rock. Acts like AC/DC and Cold Chisel achieved mainstream success developing on the sound.
Khe Sanh was the debut single from Cold Chisel and named after the district capital of Hướng Hóa District, Quảng Trị Province, Vietnam. It was written by pianist Don Walker who was known as a sort of Beat poet, and went around observing, especially around the seedy streets and soaking it up like a sponge. In fact the first draft of Khe Sanh was written in Sweethearts Cafe in Kings Cross, Sydney. Walker said the song was inspired by a number of people, including, “the guy from the next farm,” who came back from Vietnam, “severely changed for the worst“. He added “I originally wrote it as a punk song, but we found it worked better with a country-rock approach.”
Another Australian track about the experiences of a Vietnam War veteran which heavily impacted Australian society and culture was the song by Redgum called I was Only 19 (presented below Khe Sanh at the end of this post). It also featuring prominently during my military training period. Songwriter John Schumann wrote ‘I Was Only 19’ based on the stories and recollections of his brother-in-law (the “Denny” in the song is Schumann’s wife). The song went a long way to changing Australia’s attitudes toward those who fought in a very unpopular war.
[Verse 1] I left my heart to the sappers round Khe Sanh And my soul was sold with my cigarettes To the black market man I’ve had the Vietnam cold turkey From the ocean to the Silver City And it’s only other vets could understand
[Verse 2] About the long forgotten dockside guarantees How there were no V-Day heroes in 1973 How we sailed into Sydney Harbour Saw an old friend but couldn’t kiss her She was lined, and I was home to the lucky land
[Verse 3] Well she was like so many more from that time on Their lives were all so empty Till they found their chosen one And their legs were often open But their minds were always closed And their hearts were held in fast suburban chains
[Verse 4] And the legal pads were yellow Hours long, pay-packets lean And the telex writers clattered Where the gunships once had been But the car parks made me jumpy And I never stopped the dreams Or the growing need for speed and novocain
[Verse 5] So I worked across the country end to end Tried to find a place to settle down Where my mixed up life could mend Held a job on an oil-rig Flying choppers when I could But the nightlife nearly drove me round the bend
[Verse 6] And I’ve travelled round the world from year to year And each one found me aimless One more year the worse for wear And I’ve been back to South East Asia And the answer sure ain’t there But I’m drifting north, to check things out again Yes I am!
[Verse 7] Well the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone And only seven flying hours, and I’ll be landing in Hong Kong There ain’t nothing like the kisses From a jaded Chinese princess I’m gonna hit some Hong Kong mattress all night long
[Verse 8] Well the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone You know the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone And it’s really got me worried I’m goin’ nowhere and I’m in a hurry And the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone
[Outro] Well the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone You know the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone It’s really got me worried I’m goin’ nowhere and I’m in a hurry You know the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone
The Ship Song – written by Nick Cave (both lyrics and music) – was one of the first songs I ever heard by him, if not the first, back in my late teens. It’s my desert island pick from his catalogue and still ranks as one of my all-time favourite Australian songs. In fact, I just found out The Ship Song was named by the Australasian Performing Right Association (APRA) as one of the Top 30 Australian songs of all time.
From the very first listen, I was floored by the raw lyrical imagery and swept away by the grandeur of its hymn-like melody. Honestly, I’m still in awe of it – even after hundreds of listens over the decades.
The tragic romance that is The Ship Song carries an almost apocalyptic air, and stands as one of his most anthemic works, right up there with Straight to You from the following album, Henry’s Dream. The video of Nick at the piano, surrounded by little ballerina-like princesses, perfectly captures the song’s strange blend of fairytale innocence and the turmoil of a ship at the mercy of a wild sea. That tension makes it feel timeless.
The music video was directed by John Hillcoat, who also directed the haunting Aussie western The Proposition – written by Cave himself – as well as The Road (2009), the adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s bleak and brilliant novel, which featured here on Friday’s Finest last year.
The Ship Song appears on Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ sixth studio album, The Good Son, and as alluded to above, it’s widely considered one of his finest works. Publications like Far Out and Mojo included it in their top 10 Nick Cave songs. What’s remarkable, though, is that despite all the praise it gets now, The Ship Song only peaked at No. 138 on the ARIA charts when it came out.
The following was abridged from the Wikipedia references below:
After two dark and harrowing studio albums with Your Funeral… My Trial (1986) and Tender Prey (1988), The Good Son was a substantial departure with a lighter and generally more uplifting sound. The change of mood was greatly inspired by lead vocalist Nick Cave falling in love with Brazilian journalist Viviane Carneiro, and an apparently salutary spell in rehab which purged much of the despair and squalor reflected in the previous two studio albums.
Cave later said, “I guess The Good Son is some kind of reflection of the way I felt early on in Brazil. I was quite happy there. I was in love and the first year or two was good. The problem I found was … in order to survive you have to adopt their attitudes towards everything, which are kind of blinkered.”
[Intro] Come sail your ships around me And burn your bridges down We make a little history, baby Every time you come around Come loose your dogs upon me And let your hair hang down You are a little mystery to me Every time you come around
[Verse 1] We talk about it all night long We define our moral ground But when I crawl into your arms Everything, it comes tumbling down
[Chorus] Come sail your ships around me And burn your bridges down We make a little history, baby Every time you come around
[Verse 2] Your face has fallen sad now For you know the time is nigh When I must remove your wings And you, you must try to fly
Yesterday afternoon, I watched the Bee Gees documentary How toMend a Broken Heart. Apart from their music, breakout performances in Australia during their youth, their disco heyday, and the early passing of twins Robin and Maurice, I realised I knew surprisingly little about their full story as a group. What really struck me was how, after their initial run of hits, they became something of a musical pariah – pushed aside and doing the rounds on the has-been concert circuit by the early to mid 70s. Then, almost out of nowhere, things turned around. Inspired by Eric Clapton’s success recording at 461 Ocean Boulevard in Miami, they packed up and relocated to Florida. The sunny climate reminded Barry of his childhood in Australia, and it seemed to ignite something. Teaming up with record producer Arif Mardin, they began weaving elements of soul, funk, and American pop culture into their sound and lyrics.
Then came Saturday Night Fever, which blew the doors off everything – it became the highest-grossing album of its time and launched the Bee Gees into the stratosphere, with a string of US Billboard Top 10 hits that rivalled even Beatlemania. And let’s not forget – a big part of their success came down to Barry discovering that unforgettable falsetto voice. He didn’t even know he had it until he was messing around in the studio one day. But once the others heard it, they knew they were onto something. From then on, they milked it for all it was worth and pretty much built their sound around showcasing that voice. But……
Their meteoric rise had a strange backlash. As disco fever took hold, every Tom, Dick, and Harry jumped on the bandwagon, often with laughable results, and the genre quickly became a punchline. The Bee Gees, unfortunately, were lumped in with it. Radio stations and record companies wouldn’t go near them with a barge pole. So, left with few options, they reinvented themselves as behind-the-scenes hitmakers – and to remarkable effect. They wrote a slew of massive hits for other artists, including:
How Deep Is Your Love is one of the first songs I remember hearing in my life. We had the Saturday Night Fever album – like just about every other Australian family at the time. I have vivid memories of it playing during family and friend get-togethers, so saying I feel sentimental when I hear it now would be an understatement. I always found this song kind of a couplet with Chicago’s If You Leave Me Now (1976), which came out just before and was also on heavy rotation during the family outings and social gatherings we went to.
Funny thing is, I didn’t really warm to either song for years. Maybe it’s because they felt a bit too grown-up for my younger ears. But now, when I hear them, I find myself drifting off with a kind of revived appreciation – finally understanding what the adults were swooning over. Both songs don’t just share soft, melodic arrangements and bittersweet themes of love and longing – they really did dominate the airwaves around the same time, almost like musical siblings of the same mood.
The following was condensed from the Wikipedia article below:
How Deep is Your Love was ultimately used as part of the soundtrack to the film Saturday Night Fever. It was a number-three hit in the United Kingdom and Australia. In the United States, it topped the Billboard and stayed in the Top 10 for 17 weeks. It is listed at No. 27 on Billboard‘s All Time Top 100. Alongside Stayin’ Alive and Night Fever, it is one of the group’s three tracks on the list. How Deep Is Your Love is ranked number 375 on Rolling Stone‘s list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.
This track was written mainly by Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb. Barry worked out the structure with keyboard player Blue Weaver. Co-producer Albhy Galuten later admits the contribution of Weaver on this track, “One song where Blue [Weaver] had a tremendous amount of input. There was a lot of things from his personality. That’s one where his contribution was quite significant, not in a songwriting sense, though when you play piano, it’s almost like writing the song. Blue had a lot of influence in the piano structure of that song“.
Weaver tells his story behind this track:
“One morning, it was just myself and Barry in the studio. He said, ‘Play the most beautiful chord you know’, and I just played, what happened was, I’d throw chords at him and he’d say, ‘No, not that chord’, and I’d keep moving around and he’d say, ‘Yeah, that’s a nice one’ and we’d go from there. Then I’d play another thing – sometimes, I’d be following the melody line that he already had and sometimes I’d most probably lead him somewhere else by doing what I did. I think Robin came in at some point. Albhy also came in at one point and I was playing an inversion of a chord, and he said, ‘Oh no, I don’t think it should be that inversion, it should be this’, and so we changed it to that, but by the time Albhy had come in, the song was sort of there
[Verse 1] I know your eyes in the mornin’ sun I feel you touch me in the pourin’ rain And the moment that you wander far from me I wanna feel you in my arms again
[Pre-Chorus] And you come to me on a summer breeze Keep me warm in your love, then you softly leave And it’s me you need to show How deep is your love?
[Chorus] How deep is your love? How deep is your love? I really mean to learn ‘Cause we’re livin’ in a world of fools Breakin’ us down When they all should let us be We belong to you and me
[Verse 2] I believe in you You know the door to my very soul You’re the light in my deepest, darkest hour You’re my saviour when I fall
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