I go to old songs, the “oldies”, as they are known, as a comfort food for my ears. They make me feel better, like old sweatshirts make me feel better. Have you ever noticed though how desperate they all are? They are pure earnestness, each and every track. Not a hint of irony or cynicism. No sarcastic self-defense lines that are designed to shield the writer from the pain.
The just let it all out onto the microphone, and many of them let their pain out in other, less constructive ways. But there they are, resonating in us, some kind of heartache and hurt that we all know too well, we just don’t know how to say it, or don’t want to- don’t want to expose those tenderest of places.
Yet Otis Redding nearly cries through 50 years gone by straight out of my laptop: “That’s how strong my love is… that’s how strong my love is.”
Just something I’m thinking about on a Saturday.