The sad passing of singer/songwriter Dan Fogelberg will aptly be noted online, and via TV entertainment news rollouts the next few days. But before the singer's 'soft rock' songwriting legacy is moved to the great chyron in the sky (Dennis Leary used to have a bit about suing Fogelberg for turning him into a p***y'), let us devote a few minutes to a song of his that will last long after all of us have checked out. Dan's 1981 hit 'Same Old Lang Syne,' which has become a holiday radio staple, has grown in stature through the years for reasons well beyond its seasonal appeal. Verse for verse - the simple retelling of an accidental-meeting with and old flame in a grocery store is one of the most deceptively compelling narratives in pop music history. I first remember it has the object of much derision for me and my art school buddies, schooled in the post-punk thrashings of the Clash and Elvis Costello, Fogelberg's 'Syne' came off as overly-sentimental pap. Upon its annual return to radio station playlists throughout the holidays, it became - at best - a guilty pleasure. A few more years passed and I began to miraculously notice there was a pretty damn good lyric woven into that sentimental tapestry of his. A lyric that, admittedly, Elvis Costello might have even written. The past few seasons - married - kids of my own - all past loves and indulgences dutifully banished to boxes and bags in the attic of my memory like bad tinsel - the song has become, unapologetically, a throat-catching, red-light must-hear - the kind of perennial holiday gem that if you catch just the right verse as you turn that car radio knob - you're suddenly transported away from the rest of the world waiting eternally for that light to turn green. A soul-rattling 5-minute ghost-of-a-Christmas story that maintains the ability to stop you colder than any horn-blaring a**hole behind you ever can. Ultimately, Fogelberg's unvarnished delivery of that final passage as he laments the onset of 'that old familiar pain' (as ex-ex-high school sweetheart silently drives away) rings even more true each with each passing year, most of us having owed up, by now, to at least a few better angels having driven off in the other direction. The throat-catching final breath he let's us take before the song's heartbreaking coda - '... the snow turned into rain' - rightfully cements its place as a bittersweet treasure of the season. A wistful sonnet capturing simultaneity of human emotions that Kris Kristofferson once said (no slouch himself in the songwriting department) is the most powerful one-two combo a good songwriter can deliver. The ability to remind us, achingly, how we often abandon the fleeting 'better' for a much-less transient and complicated 'merely OK.'
Dan Fogelberg - may he rest in peace - left us a lamp of a song that reminds us it is indeed 'OK' to re-acquaint ourselves with all those missing parts. Necessary, in fact - to our very survival. With the current holiday cycle now sped-up beyond human capability to enjoy it; with unrealistic family expectations and bloodless retail forecasts drummed into us 24/7 - somehow being left standing in that parking lot drizzle with Mr. Fogelberg at the end of each year seems like a purpose accomplished in itself.
Made it through another one? I think so. How about you?
Cue the glasses clinking.
Cue the asshole beeping his horn.
Thank you Dan Fogelberg.