Written by: Roland Orzabal, Curt Smith (AKA the two vocalists for Tears for Fears with the awesome 1980s feathered locks that we all wanted. Don't lie, you wanted it as much as I did)
Head over Heels Video
I always think of one thing when I hear this song. It is not Donnie Darko, the fantastic film that most people think of while wishing Drew Barrymore was their English teacher. No, it is a flea market in Rogers, Arkansas in the late summer of 1985. The summer before seventh grade, before the bad unwashed times, the beatings and the Members Only jacket that might have well been stapled to my torso and the Tennessee hat that was stapled to my greasy head. Jesus, no wonder I could never get a girlfriend.
This flea market saw the purchase of my first two cassette tapes, which not only provide a nice statement about the 1980s but also about my musical tastes. I picked up from a cardboard display the following:
1. Songs from the Big Chair: I knew the song "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" and liked it. I had heard "Shout" also but thought it sucked. Thus, when I saw "Head over Heels" on the track list the Meatloaf Requirements were fulfilled: Two out of Three Ain't bad so I ponied up my $3.95 and bought it.
2. Pyromania by Def Leppard. Yes, yes. Def Leppard was awful.
These two albums represent one of the following three things:
- The 1980s were a time of incredible musical variety. Just add in Elvis Costello, Metallica, The English Beat.....the list goes on!
- I had absolutely no musical taste whatsoever. Give me a fuckin' break. I was 12 and it was on the radio.
- This was a signal of my as-of-then undiagnosed bipolar disorder. You be the judge:
- Head over Heels: I wanted to be with you alone/to talk about the weather
- Photograph: Got a photograph picture of a passion killer/It's too much/You're the only one I wanna touch
- Everybody Wants to Rule the World: Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure/Nothing ever lasts forever
- Rock of Ages: I know for sure there ain't no cure/So feel it don't fight it/go with the flow/Gimme gimmie gimmie one more for the road
Personally I think it is #3. Most people would point to the Everest sized mountain of evidence for #2. Haters gonna hate.
Songs From the Big Chair was a white cassette with a rose colored label; of I remember correctly this was the same color layout of my cassette of the coke fueled awesomeness that was Black Sabbath Vol 4. What is important for me in the scope of this song is the video. This is perhaps the only song that I did not hear before I saw the video. Thus, the video runs along with the song when I hear it. It involves a guy trying to impress a librarian, a chimp wearing a Red Sox jersey, an Orthodox Jew and an awesome cut in which the keyboard flies in from the right
Not only did this leave me utterly confused and laughing, it left me with one of my three fetishes. No, not for keyboards, but for librarians who wear glasses. Ah hell, that could have been Velma from Scooby Doo. I have always been partial to this song because of the opening notes (the 1980s version of Beethoven's Fifth) and the slow build to the drum fill at the end of the first verse. The video is completely meaningless but quite funny, a showcase for guys lip syncing with all their might in the oddest places.
This song has staying power because of 1984 and 1985. It was quite possibly the last time I felt truly at ease with myself. In seventh grade something broke in me; in sixth grade I was happy with my lot even if dad randomly punched me from his chair and mom looked the other way. The refrain of "Don't take my heart/don't break my heart/Don't throw it away" mirrored what my parents were doing and quite possibly touched a part of me that threatened to vanish during seventh grade. When I hear this song it is pure nostalgia for a time that my family was not unalterably fractured. I was twelve, not failing classes, still bathing regularly, not getting yelled at or beaten every other day, still had a reasonable dad who once in a while got angry and then spent the next three days apologizing.
By December of 1985 things were completely different. I was indifferent to grades, football and being alive. I was in trouble at school and routinely detained. I did this because I did not want to go home. If one looked at my behavioral record (you know, that Permanent One that I threaten kids with even though I know it does not exist) I would bet that the majority of my detentions occurred on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. These were the days I was sure that dad would be home and I would be stuck alone with him. Threats would be made and fists would be thrown. Every so often I fought back and this would make him angry. Dad was a dirty fighter, so at least my face was spared. While I can say he never gave me a black eye he did cut my scalp in several places, bruised my kidneys, hit me once in the liver which kept me at home "sick" for two days, kicked me in the knee to get me on the ground.
In a sense, though, the worst part was the yelling. Voices raised everywhere around me. At school (Where is your book cover? Take that hat off! You are a student here not a guest! Again no homework? Why don't you try?) at home (Where the fuck have you been? It's none of your God damn business you drunk bastard. Let me in! If you tell your mother about this I'll fucking kill you, understand?). Nowhere was quiet, nowhere was easy. So while the lyrics of this song make little to no sense, they provide a small sense of comfort and hope.
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