We’ve all been there, those times in life where we have to let go of something, somewhere, or, hardest of all, someone. As the lyrics here suggest, it is often inevitable that such a break is better in the long run, and that both parties need to accept that they will find happiness elsewhere, yet whilst you are in that moment, something truly devastating.
And that the bitter-sweet feeling of the if-you-love-them-let-them-go breakups is reflected in the soft melancholia that floats through the music. That blend of soft, wistful female vocals and chiming, precision guitar line, the rhythm guitar echoing the momentum of life, the gradual transition of the song into a hazey half-duet, and even its short duration, all embody those increasingly empty sensations as you find yourself standing there alone, teary-eyed with now just memories of your departed love. How can doing the right thing feel so wrong?
“Summer Lovers” is the more positive flip side of the coin; perhaps it is the opening chapter of the story that results in the previous song. Is this the soundtrack to those two would-be lovers meeting for the first time? Perhaps. The song shimmers with ’60s West Coast sweetness, its hazy harmonies echoing the sounds of, say, Brian Wilson, Gary Usher, or Phil Spector‘s less intense work; it feels musical, innocent, full of life and potential.
BeaVoys has always rippled with a sixties sound, something formative wandering through the more modern layers, but here, more than ever, it is 1963, surf is up, the sun is out, and this is the soundtrack for the newly liberated teenager.
A great double package, a nod to the past whilst making music for the here-and-now, and in that cyclical way that musical fashion always runs on, perhaps also a future echo of what’s to come…you never know. Music can be funny like that.
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