Tracey Thorn released an album in 2010 titled Love and Its Opposite. When it comes to songwriting, it’s the ‘opposite’ that tends to throw up the more compelling discourse.
The anti-love song has been a staple in popular music since Elvis’s baby left him and he wandered off to ‘Heartbreak Hotel’. Presley is a useful weathervane: if asked to pick between the two, no sentient listener would choose the soppy slobbering of ‘(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear’ over the snarl and bite of ‘Hound Dog’. Pop is sunshine on the surface, but at heart it’s closer to Orwell’s Two Minutes Hate. As Tina Turner once pondered, quite loudly: ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It?’ The annual rigmarole of Valentine’s Day brings this truth into particularly sharp focus. Faced with the most banal set of romantic clichés – the dozen red roses, personalised chocolates and heart-shaped helium balloons – any songsmith worth their salt considers it a matter of honour to cut through the tawdry confections using the trusty cake knife of cynicism.
For proof, log into your streaming service of choice (or dig out your albums) and search for songs called ‘Valentine’s Day’. You will find that artists as diverse as Bruce Springsteen, ABC, Steve Earle, Solange Knowles, David Bowie, Marilyn Manson, James Taylor, Linkin Park and Blood, Sweat & Tears have released different tracks using that exact title. You will also discover that not one of them ends happily, the mood board running a spectrum from really quite sad to abjectly miserable; at least a couple of the songs involve murder. Less Al Jarreau, more Al Capone.
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