"Our" Song

A song has come into my life, just begging to be shared as “our” song. But with whom do share it?

My online girlfriend Madeline asked if I had heard “Such Great Heights” by the Postal Service. I had not, so she sent it to me.

I liked the song on first listen. It was giddy pop, just 80s enough to suggest Depeche Mode on a good day, when the band was inspired and the producer was not there to muck it up.

It had a fun, upbeat chorus, so hippy in its imagery:

They will see us waving from such great heights
‘Come down now,’ they’ll say
But everything looks perfect from far away
‘Come down now,’ but we’ll stay

Lovely, right?

A few days later, Shelby was over. She left me some CDs to listen to as I work. Among these was the fine soundtrack to “Garden State,” a movie she really liked.

(She had insisted that I watch the movie too, which only confirmed my moviegoers’ crush on Peter Sarsgaard. He was dreamy as Clyde Martin, the bisexual assistant in "Kinsey"; in "Garden State," he was appealing as the pothead-next-door and third wheel of ambiguous sexuality.)

I put the soundtrack in heavy rotation. It reminded me of Shelby.

One night, as Madeline and I conversed over long-distance bourbons, my room was filled with a sad, slow song. I wasn’t paying attention, but these lyrics wafted across my consciousness:

They will see us waving from such great heights . . .

Was this the same song? It sounded entirely different—a male voice and acoustic guitar, so full of longing, of missing someone.

I looked at the playlist, written in Shelby’s hand. For the movie soundtrack, “Such Great Heights” was covered by Iron and Wine. I looked up the lyrics.

I am thinking it’s a sign
That the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and
When we kiss they're perfectly aligned

And I have to speculate
That God himself did make us into corresponding shapes
Like puzzle pieces from the clay

And true, it may seem like a stretch,
But it’s thoughts like this that catch my troubled
Head when you’re away when I am missing you
To death

When you are out there on the road
For several weeks of shows and when you scan
The radio, I hope this song will guide you home.

They will see us waving from such great heights
‘Come down now,’ they’ll say
But everything looks perfect from far away
‘Come down now,’ but we’ll stay

I tried my best to leave
This all on your machine but the persistent beat it sounded
Thin upon listening
That frankly will not fly
You will hear
The shrillest highs and lowest lows with
The windows down when this is guiding you home

Now, isn’t that sweet? Such sappy, romantic sentiments. It’s not a perfect song. The lyrics aren’t enhanced by the bit about the beloved being “out there on the road for several weeks of shows.” Do we need to know why the beloved is away? The important thing is that the singer is sending a song to the beloved’s radio to “guide you home.”

And what about that deft use of “that frankly will not fly?” Nicely done.

“Do you know this version?” I asked Madeline. She didn’t, so I called and sang it to her. She downloaded it immediately.

“Do you know this version?” I asked Shelby of the original recording. She didn’t, so I played it for her. She thought it was great, and very different from the more familiar second version.

Now, this was a fine moment to adopt a tune as “our” song. But . . . which version for which girlfriend?

It makes sense that the faster Postal Service version could be Madeline’s song. After all, she turned me on to it.

But she really likes the Iron and Wine version. She’s sought out their other songs. She plans to see them in concert.

So perhaps Shelby and I could take the Postal Service version as “our” song. She certainly likes it.

But you know, I think that if she weighed in, we might be considering another song by another band. She likes this song, but would she put it ahead of something by, say, Gem or Frou Frou?

I think not.

The song really seems to fit the situation in which Madeline and I find ourselves. We live far apart. We can’t see each other except via webcams. “Our” song should be about absence and longing.

Plus those lyrics about returning home . . . Madeline and I share the sad misfortune of rebuilding our lives and starting new homes after divorce. We want to return home.

Shelby, on the other hand, is young. "Home" still refers to that place where her parents live, the place she wants to put behind her.

Now that I’ve thought it out, I think “Such Great Heights,” in both versions, can be the song of Madeline and Jefferson.

Shelby and I will just have to keep listening.

Postal Service
Iron & Wine
Peter Sarsgaard
Kinsey
Garden State