On Wings of Song

I wake up this morning and
something is wrong. I can't
put my finger on it. This
song is playing in my head
when I open my eyes: The
Chi-Lites' Have You Seen
Her. Why oh why, did she
have to leave and go
awaaaay?
  Weird. I have this weird
habit; song lyrics that sum
up life situations
subconsciously will play in
my head as if my brain is
trying to tell me something,
interpreting information for
me and doing it with
snippets of songs both
popular and obscure.
  I'm not sure that it's my
brain. I think it's my
guardian angel, and she
likes to communicate in
music.
  This is what I'm talking
about: I used to drive
around Los Angeles and
look out at the landscape,
browned by the sun's
trampling feet and the
gulch of rainclouds, and I'd
look at the splashy
coloured billboards mixed
in with the dead vegetation
and the asphalt and the
buildings bleached white,
and the strains of Pat
Benatar singing we live in a
painted desert would go
through my head.
  Or, whenever I got stuck
in traffic I would hear
Talking Heads: Home is
where I want to be, pick me
up and turn me round.
  I hear Talking Heads a
lot. I think that's a band my
guardian angel prefers.
Don't ask me why she's
stuck in the 1980s.
  Let's say I get in an
argument with my brother
Wes. This is not
uncommon. Eris, the Greek
goddess of discord, made
us brothers as some sort of
lab experiment.
  We'll fight, and I'll hear
Talking Heads' Once In A
Lifetime, the part that goes
same as it ever was, same
as it ever was because
that's what fighting with
Wes is, it's something that
just goes on and on and on.

I don't miss my ex. I worked
all this out in therapy.
I've been divorced longer
than when we were married.
Believe me, I'm not in
denial. There is no reason
for this to be coming up. I
don't love her any more. I
haven't spoken to her in
three years.
Why, then?
I'm walking around my flat,
listening to the damn Chi-
Lites, and I'm talking to
myself and I'm trying to
figure this out, and I look at
the calendar and I realise
that tomorrow would have
been our anniversary.
I had no idea. I haven't
thought about it at all. It
hadn't even crossed my
mind. So I'm getting the
Chi-Lites because, why?
Because I have this strange
clock inside me that tells me
instinctively when it's time to
mourn? How could this
possibly be true? Is this true
for everyone?
Now I'm standing on the
precipice of what looks to
be a very long, depressing
day when out of the blue, a
line floats up, Talking
Heads, compliments of an
angel, or possibly
something remembered:
The sound inside your mind
is playing all the time,
playing with a heart of steel.

Will Kern is a sub-editor
with Life!/Sunday Plus

It's history. He's still mad at
me because when we were
barely out of kindergarten I
let one of the nuns from
our Episcopal school wash
her glass eye in his
favourite cup. He would
have murdered me, but I
was being watched over,
thank heaven.
Not that she's always
there. My guardian angel
was on her yearly
two-week vacation when I
met my ex-wife, and by the
time my angel got back
from Tahiti it was too late. I
was in love and I was
ignoring the radio in my
head that kept playing
Heartaches By The
Number.
So I wake up this morning
with the Chi-Lites' Have
You Seen Her. And I know
something is up, but I don't
know what it is. Have you
seen her? Tell me, have
you seen her?
I don't know if you
remember the song, it
came out in 1971, but it's a
great soul number about
this guy who's asking his
friends if they've seen his
girlfriend because she left
him about a month ago
and he misses the hell out
of her. And he hears her
voice on the radio and he
sees her face when he's
watching a movie.
So why is this striking a
chord with me?
I go to HMV on Orchard
Road to see if I can get a
copy of the song. I really
don't think I am going to
find it, it's pretty obscure,
but I do, in a boxed set
called The Seventies
Generation. Two CDs for
$10, so you know this is a
real hot buy.

Included in this aural feast
are other greats like Ride
Captain Ride and One
Toke Over The Line,
Sweet Jesus.
You probably won't
believe this, but HMV sells
more CDs of The
Seventies Generation than
they do Backstreet Boys
and Britney Spears
combined.
Okay, that's a bit of an
exaggeration.
So I take my CD home
and put it on, and as the
song plays I start to figure
it out.
I woke up with Have You
Seen Her because I was
thinking about my ex-wife.
But why would I be doing
that? We didn't have a
bad marriage but we had a
terrible break up. My ex
was cold as a hitman once
she made up her mind to
get out of it. It was actually
pretty amazing. I was
suddenly married to La
Femme Nikita.
The marriage lasted for 2
1/2 years. She divorced
me because she thought I
was too boring.
People have a hard time
believing that, it's such a
stupid reason, and they
eye me suspiciously like
I'm this big liar until I
mention she was an actor,
then I get nods of
understanding because
everybody knows actors
are crazy.
True enough, but people
who marry actors are
crazy, too.
And no, my ex is nobody
you've ever heard of. She
was a stage actress in
Chicago. She sells
computer software and
lives in Arizona now.
So why the song Have
You Seen Her?