The continents have been conquered. The industrial revolution is over. So why are so many Americans still getting up at dawn and clocking the majority of their waking hours away. Why do we march to such a frantic drumbeat? Can’t we slow down? Haven’t we earned it?

In the 1930s, life in America was a struggle for many people. The average salary was $1,400. Luxuries that most of us take for granted today were scarce. People did what they could to make life happy. Movies were a popular escape. And people gathered around the radio to listen to stories, and of course to music.

Ah, music. It’s hard to picture the world without it. Its diverse styles can evoke countless moods from listeners. But among music’s myriad vibes, I believe the romantic ballad is most responsible for the proliferation of our species.

Look: a crescent moon is setting on the decade of the 1930s. And there’s a young couple parked at the overlook. Bing Crosby is singing a soft, quiet melody on the car radio. Thelma’s dress has slid up, and you can see the tops of her stockings. Biff is fumbling nervously with the clasp on her bra. Please, don’t let this lovely song end.

That’s why it’s difficult to believe that the song Over the Rainbow, which the American Film Institute recently named the greatest movie song of all time, was nearly cut from The Wizard of Oz (1939). Studio executives at MGM thought the song was too slow.



Too slow? Shows what executives know. When Harold Arlen and lyricist E. Y. Harburg, composed the songs for The Wizard of Oz, I think they knew the potential impact of a beautiful ballad. As a songwriter myself, I have a feeling that they knew full well that they had a classic on their hands when they finished composing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Some songs simply feel like they were always there, just waiting to be uncovered, rather than created.

Earlier this week, I played a solo piano gig at a local retirement center. When I play with The Roman Glowlights, we usually throw a few ballads in each set. At this solo gig, it was obvious early on that the old folks preferred the slow stuff. So that’s what I played for most of the gig. The polite, elderly audience was enthusiastic and appreciative at the end of each of the old standards. In the middle of the songs they were rapt. Silent. And as a chorus would resolve, I could hear a few frail voices singing along: “It’s love, this time it’s love, my foolish heart.”



A Slow Song
by Joe Jackson

Music has charms they say
But in some people’s hands
It becomes a savage beast
Can’t they control it
Why don’t they hold it back

You see my friend and me
Don’t have an easy day
And at night we dance not fight
And we need the energy
If not the sympathy

But I’m brutalized by bass
And terrorized by treble
I’m open to change my mood but
I always get caught in the middle

And I get tired of dj’s
Why’s it always what he plays
I’m gonna push right through
I’m gonna tell him too
Tell him to
Play us
Play us a slow song

It’s late - I’m winding down
Am I the only one
To want a strong and silent sound
To pick me up and undress me
Lay me down and caress me

I feel you touch my hand
And whisper in my ear
Ask me how I’m feeling now
And I want to get near you
But I can’t even hear you

But this is a fine romance
If we have to be so demanding
We need just one more dance to
Leave here with an understanding

And I get tired of dj’s
Why’s it always what he plays
I’m gonna push right through
I’m gonna tell him too
Tell him to
Play us
Play us a slow song