Lately I’ve been listening a lot to the “Guardians of the Galaxy” soundtrack. The cover art pays tribute to the touching (if somewhat predictable) story behind the improbable collection of late 70s pop that suffuses that comical interstellar romp: it’s a mixtape given to the protagonist by his ailing mother. (No real spoilers, all of this happens in the first 5 minutes of the film.) I say “improbable” because, while you’re likely to recognize most of the songs on this album, there’s no “Rocket Man,” no “YMCA” or “Brick House.” The songs feel like deep cuts but they’re all readily recognizable; at the very least, you’ll know Blue Swede’s “More Than a Feeling” as the “ooka-chaka” song that played behind that eery dancing baby from the late 90s.
Granted, you’ve got the Jackson 5, David Bowie, and Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky” (also featured in the soundtrack to the film “Phenomenon” which, despite being a forgettable film, had a very good soundtrack). The song that I keep listening to, though, is “I’m Not In Love” by 10cc. Like many of the other songs on this album, the song was very familiar, though “10cc” was not a name I recognized. But the melody, the chords, were so resonant, that I’ve been listening to more of them, and I’ve been really impressed.
There’s a temptation, when first hearing “I’m Not in Love,” to categorize it as schmaltzy pop music. But that would be a mistake. It’s a very wry, cynical, and funny song about a guy who’s involved with a girl, and he’s trying to avoid the l-word. There aren’t enough clues to determine if he’s actually in love but afraid to admit it, or if he’s actually just in the relationship for fun; but that very ambiguity is part of the song’s charm. (The self-referential humor reminds me of Carly Simon’s brilliant “You’re So Vain,” but that’s a whole new blog post.) Check out the lyrics, and you’ll see what I mean.
The Song: Don’t Hang Up
But tonight I want to talk about one of 10cc’s other great songs: “Don’t Hang Up.” Recorded in 1976 and released on their album “How Dare You!”, this song is about a strained relationship. What caught my attention, though, is the melodic complexity. Clocking in at over 6 minutes, this song has plenty of space for you to get acquainted with the story and the feel, something rare in pop music.
The song starts out slow, with a phone ringing in the background; after a couple of rings, a female voice says, “Hello?” Then the music goes from major to minor, the strings swell, and the storm begins. After the intro, the chords return to the same major back-and-forth of the first few seconds. But the story the singer tells immediately identifies the source of the turmoil: he’s called a million times, but she’s “never let [him] in.” He admits to being flawed, lacking the “dash of Errol Flynn.” He then tries to play off his insistence, talking about how well he’s doing in his new apartment; but even that facade crumbles quickly, and he’s asking: if I get mugged, would you even know? It’s bad enough to suffer a tragedy; but to endure a trial and find that no one noticed is the ultimate disappointment.
Then, the refrain: “Don’t hang up. Don’t hang up.” Sung over plaintive chords, and a yearning bassline. It’s this theme that really touched me; the entire song is a monologue told over a phone line, praying that the party on the other line doesn’t hang up. It opens with the ringing, and ends mid-sentence with a dial tone (or rather, a poor approximation of one). While navigating a malnourished romance isn’t a new phenomenon, the ways that we conduct these negotiations do change, and the telephone presents a new twist in the world of sexual dynamics. (For another wonderful illustration of the tension around calling a loved one, listen to the wonderful “Telephone Line” by the magnificent Electric Light Orchestra.)
Then there’s this great middle section where the singer, emboldened by his listener’s tolerance, begins to recall the history of the whirlwind romance.
I stumbled from my stag night
To a never ending limousineThe band went la-di-da-di-da
And I got lo-di-do-di-dodied
Lousy violins began to play
He’s acknowledging his naïveté in approaching a marriage, but then goes right into talking about the external factors straining the relationship:
We had some honeymoon on itchy bedding
Scum buzzing round your busy body
Dumb waiters waiting sweating straining
All mass-debating my woman
We got a Bum Guatemala pensione
Crumbling about our ears, Ole
Even the trash man he say
You got a dustbin romance
It’s going down the drain
You got a low impedance
She’s got a rocky terrain
So there were a lot of circumstances working against them, and yet, here he is, too late, trying to work for something he took for granted. And then comes the line that really caught my attention on my 3rd or 4th listen:
Surprise surprise
There’s a hell of a well in your eyes
Have we won the no-nobel Prize.
I’m not certain that I understand what he meant by “no-no-bel prize” but I think it’s a joke (and if so, an admittedly sophomoric one) that they could win prizes for doing things wrong. Even if it is a silly word-play, I really like it.
Then, after another corny joke (bartender asks what he’s drinking, he says “marriage on the rocks”) he returns to the chorus of “Don’t hang up” but, before he can get through a full chorus, he’s cut off by a dial tone. She’s hung up. His pleas, the very refrain of the song, is fruitless.
The Verdict
There is so much to love about this song. There is some real music depth here; I honestly think that, with its variety of moods, narrative lyrics, and key changes, that this song could stand up next to Queen. (I’m not saying it’s better than Queen, just maybe as good as. Please don’t hurt me.) And the lyrics are poignant without being saccharine; they’re domestic.
The way that the music changes to match the lyrics (and backing singers hop in to give the impression of the party on the other end offering occasional objections) and occasionally the story (with a quasi-tango beat and little glissandos after the mention of Guatemala) make this a complex portrayal of a dying relationship. Maybe I’m listening through rose-colored headphones, but the cheesy humor actually adds to the song for me; after all, this is a song about trying (and failing). Don’t we all get a little cliched sometimes when we’re trying desperately to make our case? Don’t we say things we later regret?
I hope this has convinced you to give these guys a listen. I think they’ve got some real songwriting chops, and I look forward to getting to know more of their music. Let me know what you think in the comments.