You Go, I Can't: Helen Shapiro: "Tell Me What He Said"

She is talking with her best friend, a confidante; the East London kitchen is warm and cozy, but she has been in grief over him - and now she has heard that he is going out with someone else. She sits on the edge of her seat when she asks, begs her friend to go to the party - there is no way she can go down to the party, not after what happened. She is down, in suspense, unable to eat or drink, longing to hear nothing but the report back the next day; today is the sabbat and she waits for the sun to go down, for the party to start, she longs to be at the party but cannot be there - she has a new dress, her hair is looking good, but it would come to nothing, she would just lock herself in the bathroom and cry if she went, or even worse, chicken out at the last moment and go all the way to Gospel Oak for nothing. So she sits in the kitchen as her friend leaves, the light slowly fading, playing this song over and over and wondering if she too is going to live or die, if HE will say what she wants him to, what she needs to hear, or whether he will be studiedly neutral. She knows it is silly to depend on just a few words, but she wants him back, wants some sign that he could even think about that. She gets some cold chicken out and makes a sandwich, sits and plays the song again. OH his voice; she knows it so well, and her confidante will hear it and not her. She is resolute; there is time, there is always time. She finishes her sandwich and looks out the window, to where he is, practically willing him to say something, to understand how she feels. She wants him back, she told her. She's sorry and needs to talk. Will you talk with her? She imagines his voice and his kind words, and this keeps her happy, for now.

Waking To A New World: The Everly Brothers: "Wake Up Little Susie"

Well no kidding your reputation is shot. Again? Again? Last thing you knew you were celebrating finally finishing your exams after weeks of late-night studying and worry, sweating your brains out as the phrase goes, gritting your teeth against the clock - and now here it is, four in the morning and yes it's with him again, you really like him but on the other hand you wish you could be stronger and get away. But when, how? He is a bit of a goof and you'll be grounded and maybe he will too...perhaps this is a good thing in a way?

All this is being thought as she yawns in the now-paling darkness under a very late moon like a slice of cantaloupe. She's not going to make herself look better because there is no reason - it's Saturday morning and she just hopes no one is at home waiting up, though when she gets there sure enough Mom is sleeping in her chair in the kitchen, Dad's in bed. How can they explain themselves to anyone? Sure the milkshake and extra fries at the drive-in were maybe a mistake, but they were hungry at the time. And usually she likes movies like those - because her favorite actor is in them - but yes this one was boring and she needed sleep...and so did he, the lunk. In a year she will get out of state to that college where she can take courses and be...well something more than a waitress, which is what she is now. He will inherit his dad's sporting goods store for sure in a decade or so; he's not going anywhere.

The Everly Brothers took their time waiting for a song after "Bye Bye Love" and this was their choice - composed in a car by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant (hmm) and probably learned on the spot, their marmalade-sharp voices cajole and seem bemused at their plight more than anything else; but there is still the knowledge that there will be consequences for their hapless snooze beyond what should be allowed. This is the 50s; reputation and appearances count for all, small-town American morality still being the norm, even in bigger cities (it was banned in Boston - ah, God love you, Boston). We are back in Appalachia here, probably not far from Johnny Duncan - there's that same fearless grin in their voices - but unlike Duncan we will be hearing from the brothers again, as they teach (inadvertently) many young men how to harmonize in a new way, not to mention get *that* into a song with good cheer.