[MUSIC] Human League, "Don't You Want Me"
Sep. 10th, 2005 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rfmcdonaldThursday evening on Bloor Street West, I was coming out of a restaurant when I heard a car heading west, the chorus of the Human League's monstrous 1981 hit "Don't You Want Me" booming out of its sound system. That song, I realized standing there on the sidewalk, may be almost two years younger than me but it's still quite current. The song should be acclaimed as a classic.
It's a minor miracle that, after the 1980 split that saw the musically-trained half of the group head off to found Heaven 17, the Human League managed to come up with some exceptionally catchy music for "Don't You Want Me." Entirely synthesized, combining horror-movie electric piano chords with frantically chattering synthesizers, and eminently melodic, the music is a perfect singalong background for the almost spoken-word duet of Philip Oakey and Susan Ann Sulley.
The thing that made "Don't You Want Me" such an enduring song is its narrative. Cribbed from a story in an American women's magazine, on paper or the screen the narrative is fairly clichéd: boy finds girl, girl falls for boy, boy makes girl a star, girl leaves boy. It's a convention sort of fantasy, the sort of thing we've seen enacted before us with (to name two examples) Sonny and Cher or Zhang Yimou and Gong Li. In the context of a short four-minute pop song, though, this compact conventional narrative is something that a listener can easily latch onto.
Compare, if you would, the brilliant teen-drama songs written by Goffin and King for the singers and groups of Motown in the 1960s. In the space of just a few minutes they--the songs, the performers--managed to communicate an entire universe of impressions and assumptions and hopes. Can I let myself fall in love with you, even though everyone will be against us? Can I trust you not to hurt me? Will this work out? Simple songs, yes, but universal desires.
"Don't You Want Me" provides the listener with the added benefit of two contrasting voices. Is he delusional, even dangerous ("You think you've changed your mind/You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry")? The accompanying video does hint at this. Has she cruelly abandoned him, is she even now toying with him ("I still love you")? Again, in the video she does take on the appearance of a cynically pampered star. Is the true story somewhere in between? All this is left for the listener to decide, as the song chimes to its inevitable end. Genius can be found in unexpected places, and so it is with this song.
It's a minor miracle that, after the 1980 split that saw the musically-trained half of the group head off to found Heaven 17, the Human League managed to come up with some exceptionally catchy music for "Don't You Want Me." Entirely synthesized, combining horror-movie electric piano chords with frantically chattering synthesizers, and eminently melodic, the music is a perfect singalong background for the almost spoken-word duet of Philip Oakey and Susan Ann Sulley.
You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar
When I met you
I picked you out, I shook you up, and turned you around
Turned you into someone new
Now five years later on you've got the world at your feet
Success has been so easy for you
But don't forget it's me who put you where you are now
And I can put you back down too
The thing that made "Don't You Want Me" such an enduring song is its narrative. Cribbed from a story in an American women's magazine, on paper or the screen the narrative is fairly clichéd: boy finds girl, girl falls for boy, boy makes girl a star, girl leaves boy. It's a convention sort of fantasy, the sort of thing we've seen enacted before us with (to name two examples) Sonny and Cher or Zhang Yimou and Gong Li. In the context of a short four-minute pop song, though, this compact conventional narrative is something that a listener can easily latch onto.
CHORUS:
Don't, don't you want me?
You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me
Don't, don't you want me?
You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me
It's much too late to find
You think you've changed your mind
You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry
Don't you want me baby? Don't you want me oh
Don't you want me baby? Don't you want me oh
Compare, if you would, the brilliant teen-drama songs written by Goffin and King for the singers and groups of Motown in the 1960s. In the space of just a few minutes they--the songs, the performers--managed to communicate an entire universe of impressions and assumptions and hopes. Can I let myself fall in love with you, even though everyone will be against us? Can I trust you not to hurt me? Will this work out? Simple songs, yes, but universal desires.
I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar
That much is true
But even then I knew I'd find a much better place
Either with or without you
The five years we have had have been such good times
I still love you
But now I think it's time I lived my life on my own
I guess it's just what I must do
"Don't You Want Me" provides the listener with the added benefit of two contrasting voices. Is he delusional, even dangerous ("You think you've changed your mind/You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry")? The accompanying video does hint at this. Has she cruelly abandoned him, is she even now toying with him ("I still love you")? Again, in the video she does take on the appearance of a cynically pampered star. Is the true story somewhere in between? All this is left for the listener to decide, as the song chimes to its inevitable end. Genius can be found in unexpected places, and so it is with this song.
