Sarah, I Can't See You, Your Hair Has Grown Too Long
Substack Week 16: Duchess of Rock
Gather close, friends. Please read this week’s installment of my Substack: Duchess of Rock with extra humor and compassion, perhaps fed by your own recall of a moment when you were driven a bit mad. Good news: as I was recently reminded when I rediscovered a song that had helped me to ride out a heartsick season – with enough time, distance, and perspective, the ending can turn out happy. What once felt so significant, like the boarding pass you anxiously clutch until you’re safely on the flight can so casually be discarded (with gratitude) once you’re at your destination.
Today’s pick: “Sarah” by Mojave 3, from their 1995 album, “Ask Me Tomorrow”
Partway through book tour last week, feeling nostalgic for songs of my past, a memory surfaced of a mix I had made many years ago. It was during one of those breakups that was far more painful than it should have been, because my fantasy of the relationship’s future had been such a clear embodiment of what I most wanted my life to become. In particular, I felt that great frustration, which can be painful in art and business, as much as in love, of not being appreciated for who we see ourselves as — our best selves — and feeling dismissed because of it.
At this particular apex of angst, wanting badly to be seen, I compiled a mix of songs about Sara(h). Of course, I never gave it to my ex, but for a time, I listened to it on repeat, and it soothed me. Re-creating the mix in my mind, I knew the obvious culprits: Bob Dylan’s “Sara,” from which I was named; John’s Children’s “Sara, Crazy Child,” by my beloved Marc Bolan’s first band; Fleetwood Mac’s “Sara,” which an old lover worked into his band’s live set the night we first rendezvoused. And, of course, the obvious songs that had frequented my young adult years: Starship’s “Sara,” Hall and Oates’s “Sara Smile.” But that wasn’t enough for a full mix.
Digging deeper, I recalled: Ween’s “Sarah,” which a teenage crush had played for me before falling in love with my best friend. Plus, songs I grew to love from the mix, such as Thin Lizzy’s “Sarah,” not my favorite song by a great band I’ve adored since my glam-rock years. Finally, I unearthed the track that had most solaced me in my original valley of sadness: the Mojave 3’s “Sarah,” with a fuzzed-out ache so perfectly matched to my distraught state of mind at the time. Somehow I had missed this lovely band — formed by Neil Halstead, Rachel Goswell, and Ian McCutcheon not long after Slowdive’s demise — but was instantly smitten when I found them.
The opening sets the mood, weaving a guitar awash in wavering tremolo with a dirge-like piano. A romantic male voice is echoed, just a beat behind, by a crystalline female harmony. It’s a perfect little pop ballad, less than four minutes of midtempo melancholia, that never builds to a resolve, simply stays in the sad shuffle of despair. Although I had forgotten about it for many years, it instantly felt familiar and comforting, like a beloved fuzzy blanket. Out of all the songs on the mix, this was the one I had played the most. Whereas some of the songs had felt like a performative act of heartbreak, this one was a necessary balm. Of course, none of the songs were ever for anyone but me, and as the best music does, they graphed onto my bruised heart as I healed enough to finally move on, and on, and on.
Please sing along to a song that once healed your poor, foolish heart. Love, the Duchess
In book news:
My debut novel, “The Last Days of the Midnight Ramblers,” is out now from Flatiron Books. The first leg of my tour is in the books — thanks to everyone who turned up in support! Next, come see me in Phoenix, Tucson, and Seattle. (Book tour details here.)
Many friends have asked what they can do to support me and my book, and here’s a big one: whether you purchased my novel on Amazon or not, please log on and leave it a rating (I’d recommend 5 stars, but you do you!) and even a one-line review. Without enough reviews, my book won’t come up as a recommended title when readers search for related books. Thank you!
Listen to my far-reaching and high-low conversation with Tony DuShane on his fabulous podcast Drinks with Tony.