At the tender of age of seven, I would sing along to Karen Carpenter’s “Superstar,” pretending I knew the score — a guilty pleasure that’s followed me to adulthood, heartache, more heartache, and settling for comfort over passion.
In my 56 years, I’ve accumulated quite the greatest hits in my head, from the Carpenters and Marvin Gaye/Tammi Terrell to Level 42 and Julie C.
Before the advent of the World Wide Web, I’d play those hits in a loop in my head on TheBus to and from work. As Chinatown, downtown, and Honolulu Hale passed my rear-view, the trumpet announcement eased the pain of my constant loneliness as I imagined the shyly flirtatious camera clerk on Bishop Street busting out with the words to Lighthouse’s “Pretty Lady,” or “Something About You,” as killer bassist Mark King avoided romantic entanglements in that iconic music video, with him as our circus clown.
As I shed my childish dreams, I held onto this one last weakness: my love songs. I listen to them often, when I’m writing on assignment, writing for fun, writing to avoid going off on someone in my family (lockdowns suck), or writing to stop myself from cheating on my low-carb diet. I listen to them at night when I can’t sleep, wishing with all might, in spite of myself, wishing wishing…
You can tell who a person is by the company they keep. The same is true for the books they enjoy reading, the TV shows they watch, and…the love songs they sing to themselves when no one’s home.
These are my love songs. I wonder what they say about me…
Discovered this love song during a tumultuous time, when a friend’s wife left him for another man and made it all his fault. The thrill’s in that chorus, which we all long to be able to sing to the wronged Mr. Right.
My ex- played this Beatles song on his guitar for me. I didn’t know if he was breaking up with me or proposing. Turns out…neither. But the gold is in the lyrics, as they ebb and flow, like waves in the ocean.
The steady, deeply melodic piano, ribbony bass, riveting guitar narrative, prophetic lyrical reading in full besotted display…I most identify with the sentiments of this forgotten song. If music could embody a human, this would be me in a song.
Forgetting the video — scared the shit out of me, not gonna lie — “Deeper and Deeper” — represents the optimistic, twirling little ballet dancer inside, that jumpy, charming girl who never gave up on love, and found it one fateful day when she wasn’t looking. A true fairy tale.
Every time I play this 1987 song by British one-hit wonder Breathe, I feel all depressed inside, because it’s during the in-between, lonely years. I was still hurting/in denial from a major breakup in 1981 with a guy who came out as gay and looked just like lead singer David Glasper. Oof.
He can be forgiven “Against All Odds,” because…”Two Hearts.” Besides immediately smacking you in the face with cheery lovey-dovey goodness, the song makes love possible for everyone, even me. The way Phil Collins fixates on that catchy bridge, paying proper, romantic tribute: “She knows, there’ll always be a special place in my heart, for her, she knows, she knows, she knows, yeah, she knows…,” fools me into believing that could be me.
My theme song, gentlemen. From the smooth, male harmonies, the funky, popping bass line, and mystical lyrics, to the grand design of it all falling into place, “Something About You” remains the quintessential love song for the broken-hearted.
I believe in reincarnation.
I want to be Shania Twain, singing this to my special someone. The bridge is delicate, flowering out of nowhere. The strings, oh!, fluttering in between the jagged electric guitar, as she says, “You’re the reason I believe in love,” probably resonates with everyone.
