Say it in Song

I hesitate to write this one. Some of you are definitely not going to like it. Thursday is Valentine’s Day and it is de riguer to write something apropos (“de riguer? Apropos? – what’s with the French, all of a sudden?” You ask). Well, I used to live in Montreal, and as it happens now and then, I’m probably having difficulty shaking off the French influence, which is all I speak when I’m up there; or maybe it’s this “French is the language of Love” business, and this is a Valentine’s day article.
Now, in the spirit of the occasion, you’ll expect to get the usual mushy stuff, about how Love makes the world go round, and how wonderful Love is (see the Four Aces song below), and anyone who dares say anything else at this time is likely to get himself drawn and quartered, tarred and feathered, and run out of town on a rail.
And that’s why I hesitate to write this one. I’ve been drawn and quartered before, and I didn’t like the experience; and take it from me, getting tarred and feathered is no picnic either – it’s the very dickens, trying to get the stuff off afterwards. And as for the run out of town on a rail business, please, let’s not even go there. Much too undignified.
If you’re going to show any displeasure, be merciful: be quick about it. Do as the Romans did: kill the messenger.
Cause that’s what I feel like – a messenger. I didn’t make up the stuff that I’m writing about this week, as you will see. I just put it together and let you have it, along with my observations. See what you think.
I was running a few love songs through my head the other day, and I noticed a trend which, I believe, demonstrates what has happened to Love, good old Love, over the past few years (let’s say, in the latter half of the last century), if we go by the songs which are being sung.
First, you have the old songs, in the early Frank Sinatra period, say circa 1940’s; exemplified by, say, the Andrews Sisters - or the McGuire Sisters, I’m not sure which:
Sincerely, ooh oh sincerely,
Oh I love you so dearly,
Please say you’ll be mine…or words to that effect.
Fine, Great. Wonderful. I love you dearly, unconditionally.
Let’s go on from there, to the late nineteen forties, and listen to the fabulous Four Aces;
Love is a many splendoured thing;
It’s the April rose.
That only grows
In the early spring…
Wow! Magnificent stuff! Simply inspired! Couldn’t have said it better myself. Unless I were suave, Italian, handsome, had extraordinary charm and a fabulous, sexy, different-sounding voice, my name was Dean Martin, and I had become a popular crooner in the early fifties:
When the moon hits your eye,
Like a big pizza pie:
That’s Amore…
or,
Everybody loves somebody sometime … you know the rest.
Hey, we’re all on cloud nine. Love is lovely, Love is real, Love is pure, Love is sincere. We’re all swooning in June, by the light of the silvery moon.

And as if to emphasize it, we jump a few years ahead to the Beatles – the nineteen sixties – and they are letting us know:
Can’t buy me Love
Money can’t buy me love
Can’t buy me Love,
No, no, no, no …
But why are they putting so much emphasis on the no, no, no, no …? Are they sensing something which is rearing its ugly head, and so are trying desperately to deny its existence? Or do they already know and are just trying to deceive us? This is somehow reminiscent of the Shakespearean, “Methinks he doth protest too much”.
Oh yeah, oh yeah. The Beatles are on to something. For no sooner have they hinted at the association of money and love, than Ben E. King follows a few years later, wailing that:
I, I who have nothing
Adore you…
And further in the song cries,
Believe me, hear when I say,
That he can give you the world
But he’ll never love you the way
I love you…
He’s obviously lost his girl to some rich guy who “buys you diamonds; bright, sparkling diamonds”, etc.
“O.K.,” you say. “So what? It happens. Probably an isolated incident. It could be that the girl just left him for the other fellow, and it’s a coincidence that the new chap happened to have all the dough. After all, rich guys need love too, so let’s not pretend that the money was the motivating factor here.
Love, sweet, pure Love, is what is still in fashion today. And I’m sure it will say so in our love songs. Let me just prove it to you. Let’s go into this record shop here and listen to what’s being sung by our current pop stars.”
Surprise! Here’s what you get from almost every popular female star (especially the American ones – and that’s where the trends are set: except for the Beatles, every artiste mentioned in this piece is American) you are on the receiving end of:
You gotta have a J-O-B,
If you wanna be with me…
Or,
I don’t want no scrub
A scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me…
And great pains are taken to explain that a scrub is a fellow with no car and no money…etc.
We’ve come a long way, since the Andrews Sisters- or the McGuire Sisters. All the way to the Pointer Sisters. And brother, they’re letting us know that Love is becoming a no-nonsense affair. Attraction no longer lies in the warm look in your dark-brown eyes, or your engaging smile. At least, not in the modern love (?) songs.
A long time ago, someone came up with the saying, “When Poverty walks in the door, Love flies out the window”. Too many of our songs are beginning to reflect that sentiment.
Hey, I told you that some of you may not like this one. Don’t look at me. I’m just the messenger. A very hesitant messenger.
And please! No tar; no feathers. Makes one feel like a chicken.