THE LEFT BANKE: "Walk Away Renee"
And when I see the sign that points one way
The lot we used to pass by every day
Sometimes our hearts break. That's why we have pop songs.
In those moments when our world seems to shatter, the function of a pop song can vary. We may seek catharsis in celebration, in jubilant party tunes that urge us to jump up and down and all around in willful repudiation of the ache that grips us. We may prefer to reflect, to consider the good and the bad that bent our path this way, and to live in hope of deliverance, to wish for better things to come our way. We may succumb to anger, recrimination, the fury of our jilted souls giving louder'n God voice to our own righteous bitterness.
But the most natural, most common reaction to emotional devastation? We want to cry our freaking eyes out. Pop music offers an endless choice of soundtracks for such sorrow. Few are more effective, more eloquent, more exquisitely sad than "Walk Away Renee."
Just walk away Renee
You won't see me follow you back home
The empty sidewalks on my block are not the same
You're not to blame
There was a real Renee: Renee Fladen. In 1966, Ms. Fladen was dating a musician named Tom Finn, bassist for The Left Banke. Finn's bandmate, keyboardist Michael Brown, was smitten with this pretty Renee. Legend has it that Brown wrote a song about his unrequited love for her, then another song, then yet another, a trio of lush laments for this woman he couldn't have. Those three songs form the core of The Left Banke's enduring appeal: "She May Call You Up Tonight," "Pretty Ballerina," and the first of this trio, "Walk Away Renee."
From deep inside the tears that I'm forced to cry
From deep inside the pain that I chose to hide
Just walk away Renee
You won't see me follow you back home
Now as the rain beats down upon my weary eyes
For me it cries
Now, legend may not be fact. It took three people--Brown, Bob Calilli, and Tony Sansone--to write "Walk Away Renee," and Sansone has insisted he wrote the lyrics himself, with no thought of any real-life Renee. We will never know, will we? The song's story feels genuine, true to life--but then, the same could be said of The Grapes Of Wrath, or Romeo & Juliet, or I, The Jury. All right, maybe not that last one. For today, the legend will rule. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend. With an asterisk, at least.
Because this presumed-true back story of unattainable, unreachable love fits the song itself. A song of loss, even just romantic loss, can be so much more wrenching if it feels personal. And it can be all the greater a punch to the gut if it's delivered as a matter of fact, a dismal fait accompli. Hope dies last. After the hope is gone, tears are all that remain.
"Yesterday." "I'm Gonna Be Strong." Badfinger's "Baby Blue." "Cigarette," a lesser-known track by The Smithereens. These are among the saddest, most emotional first-person love songs I've ever adored with pure heart and misted eye. "Walk Away Renee" is the mournful king of them all. It was the first and biggest hit for The Left Banke, and a 1968 cover by The Four Tops also made the Top 20. Four Tops lead singer Levi Stubbs imbued the song with a nonpareil sense of swagger brought down by love's cruelty; Steve Martin of The Left Banke sang sweetly and beautifully, a more fragile casualty of the same damned arrows fired by an offstage Cupid indifferent to our lonely suffering. Either version is worthy of a turn as The Greatest Record Ever Made. Both versions hurt. Both versions soar.
Did Michael Brown love Renee, this woman he could not have? Was his life empty without her touch, barren without the warmth of her delight, pointless without the bright, promising vista of her smile? Yes. At least in song, the answer would have to be yes.
Your name and mine inside a heart upon a wall
Still finds a way to haunt me, though they're so small
Our hearts break sometimes. At these unwelcome sometimes, only the right song can help us mourn, can convince us to move forward. We need time to cry first. We need that opportunity to grieve for what should have been, but will never be. That's what pop songs are for.
Just walk away Renee
You won't see me follow you back home
The empty sidewalks on my block are not the same
You're not to blame.
"You're not to blame." It's addressed to Renee, but it's really what we say to ourselves. "You're not to blame."
A drink. A fresh tear. Let the song play one more time. You're not to blame.
"Walk Away Renee" by Bob Calilli, Michael Brown, and Tony Sansone. © Warner/Chappell Music Inc., Carlin Music Inc., BMG Rights Management US, LLC
TIP THE BLOGGER: CC's Tip Jar!
You can support this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon: Fund me, baby!
Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-Op, Ray Paul, Circe Link & Christian Nesmith, Vegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie Flowers, The Slapbacks, P. Hux, Irene Peña, Michael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave Merritt, The Rubinoos, Stepford Knives, The Grip Weeds, Popdudes, Ronnie Dark, The Flashcubes,Chris von Sneidern, The Bottle Kids, 1.4.5., The Smithereens, Paul Collins' Beat, The Hit Squad, The Rulers, The Legal Matters, Maura & the Bright Lights, Lisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it here.
No comments:
Post a Comment