Alarm Clock Songs

Back in my single livin' days I had this sweet stereo with an alarm I could program to play the songs of my choice,  for the length of my choosing. Not only that, but the volume would slowly fade in from zero to the volume I selected. A lot of times, this worked well: I picked songs that I loved so much I couldn't help but wake up (and feel happy about it!). Unfortunately, I missed a lot of 8 AM math classes because my alarm clock dj-ing choices failed at least 30% of the time...especially if didn't choose songs that were jarring enough, and my off-timer was set too optimistically.

After I started sharing an alarm clock with my husband, I learned the joys of the snooze button: he is a master, and I found that - just like coffee - beginning to partake later in life doesn't curb prolific use. Now a snooze button addict myself, it is abnormal for me to go without those blissful extra minutes of sleep, taken 3-5 times as necessary. This in depth study of sleeping as long as possible has revealed there are three musical occasions by which the space-bar sized button is rendered useless.

Occasion #1: So Terrible, You Find Yourself Alarmingly Awake

Hootie and the Blowfish @ 1:10 *blech* This happened to me this morning...and there is just something about the key, or the notes the guitarist plays...I don't know, but I was WIDE and unpleasantly awake.

The ultimate combination of bile-inducing pablum...Rob Thomas and Santana. This song has been dogging me since Spanish 3, and it just won't die...it's a Smooth Zombie. Rather than including the video (and the ear-gouging intro-guitar riff) I offer you Rob Thomas' dragon shirt as a visual metaphor for the song.

 

Occasion #2: Great Songs, Unfortunate Timing

Sometimes a great song just comes on at the unfortunate point in the music: in-context the section would be particularly moving, but out of context, just strikes the newly awakened eardrum as tortuous. My prime example of this experience is with Penny Lane coming on at 1:13 -- still makes me feel queasy whenever I hear it.

Occasion #3: They Are Playing What?!?!

I like to imagine there is a time-between-times that allows music from parallel radio dimensions to filter through to us, like the first fingers of morning sunlight. In these early hours, before radio djs' bosses have arisen from slumber, the poor, top 40 beleaguered music lovers get a moment to stick it to the man, and play sweet, sweet symphonies of pop music.

How else can I account for hearing things like...

Bowie's "Heroes", when ever since Jakob Dylan covered it for Godzilla, it's like the original never happened (boo!). *Great video, btw.*

Patti Smith's "Gloria"; while a landmark, I've only heard it on the radio one time...and it woke me right up! G-L-O-R-I-A!

The saddest thing about this last category is that my shock, like the tenor of a dream, is long remembered, but the song that caused it is not. Maybe next time?

Guilty Pleasures from My Youth

The evidence is in. My "mixed from the radio" cassettes reveal the truth: my electronic lovin' phase started as soon as I got my hands on a boombox in 1992.  I was raised on Oldies, but couldn't resist the lure of early 90s dance music. I was obsessed with Haddaway's "What is Love?" (before Night at the Roxbury!!), Pet Shop Boy's "Go West," Real McCoy, "Rhythm is a Dancer," La Bouche, Ace of Base, Culture Beat, etc. At the time, I had no idea what those songs were actually called, or who they were by; written in sloppy kid-cursive on the tapes' white paper inserts are names for them that made sense to me at the time.

I LOVE Google images! My boombox looked almost exactly like this one.

Most of these songs aren't as embarrassing to listen to as I thought they might be. However, the videos are generally horrible; if you need a good laugh, a serious dose of weird, and a refresher on early 90s fashion, check out the video for "What is Love?" I refuse to provide a link to it, but I admit that I just watched it.

While I loved many dance-electro-rock songs, there are two in particular that I loved with the passion only a 13-year-old girl can muster.

"The Promise" by When in Rome

I'm not sure why I heard this on the radio so much when I was a kid because it came out in the late 80s. In any case, it had a featured position on one of my radio cassettes, and I'm sure the tape runs thin in that spot.

This song has a great melody, a killer chorus, a lovely, plunkety piano. The electronic bass line threatens to date the song, but the energy of the vocal keeps it fresh. The lyrics are romantic, and as an adult I find them realistically sweet:

If you need a friend,
don't look to a stranger,
You know in the end,
I'll always be there.

I still think "The Promise" is awesome.

"Always" by Erasure

This one came out in 1994, and remains my favorite Erasure song. 

I find the idea of not being understood terrifying, and there is a longing for connection and understanding in "Always" that really resonated with teenage Colleen. Through no fault of their own, adolescents wear a lot of masks; I wanted so badly to be who I felt I was, but was aware of the incredible pressure to conform. Andy's croon was irresistible...he knew what it was like.

Wear no disguise for me

Come into the open

There's also an underlying sexual tension, and a bit of desperation, that I find appealing. 

Vince Clark backs up Andy by filling "Always" with lush synths, touches of string sounds (I first saw the video yesterday, and the Eastern influence on the music is overt), and warm beats. Irresistible.