Thoughts on the Lyrics of Limerance

"I think love lyrics have contributed to the general aura of bad mental health in America" 

- Frank Zappa

It will soon be February 14th. For a long time I used to refer to this as Singles Awareness Day, and I even wrote a song about the way that single people can feel overlooked or portrayed negatively, as though only one lifestyle is valued by Western society. You only have to turn on the TV to see adverts, programmes and films that all tap into the 'one size fits all' philosophy. The reason for this is perhaps obvious in evolutionary terms. A lifestyle that generally results in the propagation of human population is going to be seen as 'desirable,' although with the number of humans increasing exponentially out of pace with resources on a finite planet, it may be time for society to enter a new paradigm.

Then I had a period where February 14th didn't really bother me at all. My girlfriend (who later became my wife) and I exchanged cards but we weren't always together on this particular day. We had plenty of chances to catch up all year round after all. That said, it was always nice to go out for a meal, although we didn't actually need an excuse to do this.

Now, things have changed again and my thoughts on the 45th day of each year are perhaps different once more. I now think of this as the Festival of Limerence, because if you think about it, it's not really for couples who are already together and secure, but more about declaring interest in the early days of uncertainty - cards signed with a question mark and all that mystery and intrigue. I feel that I should apologise at this point for one incident around thirty years ago when I was at school where I was embarrassed to receive a card from a girl I wasn't attracted to, tearing the card up, which in hindsight was horrible, but as a young teenager who had yet to experience such emotions I guess I had yet to fully develop skills of empathy. It was poetic justice that I didn't receive a card from anybody for many years after this!

It recently struck me that much of what society thinks of as romance is really 'limerence,' a term coined by Dorothy Tennov in 1979 who postulated the kind of intense romantic infatuation that is often considered 'romantic' is a very different beast to familial love and other uses of the other L-word.

Let's look at some love songs that might just be limerence songs.

The first ditty that springs to mind is Robert Palmer's 1986 hit, 'Addicted to Love,' which pretty much compares the romantic experience to that of drug use; 'Your mind is not your own.' One of my favourite songwriters is Bob Dylan and albums such as 'Time out of Mind' (1997) are littered with expressions of unconsummated frustration. He sings about being 'sick of love' and 'in the thick of it,' and exclaims 'You have no idea what you do to me' and [it feels] 'like the universe has swallowed me whole.' If you rewind to the 1976 track 'Isis,' he sings 'What drives me to you is what drives me insane.'

Leonard Cohen was another master of seemingly limerent lyrics, in songs like 'There Ain't No Cure For Love' (1988), once again equating the experience with that of being ill, and in the 1971 song 'Avalanche' he sings 'I stepped into an avalanche, it covered up my soul.'

Often lyrics simply glory in the sheer misery of it, as though there is some apparent virtue in feeling like a sack of effluent! However, one song that really doesn't glorify the feeling is Barry Ryan's 1968 classic 'Eloise,' with lyrics like 'And only time will tell, and take away this lonely hell.' Then there's the Temptations' 1971 hit 'Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me),' which leads the listener to believe that the vocalist is blissfully happy before declaring that it's all just fantasy. Another song that smacks of limerence is John Lennon's 'Abbey Road' composition for the Beatles, 'I Want You (She's So Heavy)' where he repeats the line 'I want you so bad, it's driving me mad' throughout the song and the band attempts to represent the heaviness of the feeling musically with the endlessly circling coda.

Taking all of this to its logical conclusion, could we infer that a greater percentage of creative and artistic people experience limerence, rather than the ordinary more controlled form of romantic feelings? Or to turn it around, is it this profoundly unpleasant and obsessive experience that prompts the person to release some of the tension creatively?

Food for thought. So what actually is it?

The fascinating book 'Living with Limerence' by the mysteriously named 'Doctor L,' postulates that three factors must be present for limerence to occur. These are an initial sign of hope followed by sufficient ongoing fuel for this hope to survive and a level of uncertainty. I am of the opinion that much of our romantic fiction is entirely based around this concept. It's not a love story if a couple merely meet, start dating, mutually agree upon a relationship and end up getting married (or whatever substitutes as the ultimate fulfilment in modern societies). There has to be a certain level of impossibility. For example, one or both partners could be in another relationship, or there could be geographical or socio-economic barriers ('Romeo and Juliet,' anyone?). If the limerence is expressed and the result is positive it could be passed off as romantic comedy, with all the frustrations seeming comedic in the light of the happy ending. If the limerence does not produce the desired effect the story will be more tragic, as well as being the source for a million love songs (Barry Manilow / Take That pun intended).

The point about uncertainty is particularly interesting. Professor Robert Sapolsky in one of his many fascinating YouTube lectures demonstrates how a perceived 50% chance of an action resulting in success produces the maximum amount of dopamine in anticipation of the desired result. Both a 25% chance and a 75% chance result in less dopamine. I would postulate that with relationships the brain views the 'yes / no' nature of a potential partner as a 50/50 chance even if it is not. Thus, the dopamine goes through the roof and one can be stuck in a state of limerence.

It is also postulated that the experience is a kind of sticking plaster over deeper issues, such as lack of fulfilment, being the brain's way of creating its own excitement when things are not quite right at a more profound level. For example, it is commonly assumed that John Lennon's extreme emotions for Yoko Ono were a result of losing his mother at a young age.

Returning to art and literature, it does seem that a huge proportion of such creativity stems from this experience that the majority will fortunately never have, in spite of idealising its themes. I guess it is some consolation to turn such unpleasantness into something that is, on the whole, appreciated. Take the novel 'Love in the Time of Cholera' by Gabriel Garcia Marquez for example, where a man simply pines away his whole life for a woman who he eventually pairs up with in old age. In truth, that's not romantic, that's just disturbing, and thankfully our brains agree. Generally periods of limerence have a shelf-life that can be measured in months and at most a few years. And the more generally experienced non-limerent form of passion is not so different either in its lack of longevity. And this is down to our old friend, evolution.

If a couple could be completely obsessed with one another for life, you can see how any potential children might be neglected. The parents would be too wrapped up in one another to fully concentrate on the needs of the child. However, literature and films rarely depict the period after the wedding when passions die down, but die down they must, because that's how it was for our ancestors. In other words, the children that survived had the parents that cooled off after the usual time it takes to produce offspring, and thus these traits were passed on.

Returning to limerence, it is perhaps a perfect example of something called ambiguous grief. When a person dies, the death is final and once grief has been experienced those left behind can recover, but a limerent has to deal with an ambiguity where they can both imagine a life alone and a life where the potential partner becomes an actual partner. And one thing human brains can't stand is duality. And with all that dopamine sloshing around (among other hormonal changes), it is a chemical addiction just like heroin or cigarettes! It seems that Robert Palmer wasn't so far off the mark after all.

[Adam Colton is the author of numerous psychological fiction books as well as '2021: A Musical Odyssey,' which reviews classic rock albums.]

Adam's Music Reviews #6 (Dec 2020)

It was while walking to the car one day that I realised that programmers are missing a great opportunity to create a game called 'Social Distancing.' The character walks relentlessly down an alley as people come towards him at various positions along the path. The gamer has to move the character left or right on the path to maintain two metres distance. There could be a second round set in the aisle of a supermarket with the added interest of trolleys and prams being used as battering rams!

Er... That said, yes, here we are, still in tier three in Kent, which is about as exciting as watching emulsion go from a liquid state to a solid state. Thank goodness for music. And beer! So here I am with another batch of albums that I've blasted my way through since my last post, occasionally getting up to join in on the guitar or the keyboard on my way to the fridge. People of the future, this is what 'hedonism' meant in 2020...

Blur - Parklife (1994)

I remember my sister wanting this album on in the car on a family holiday to Lancashire in the nineties and finding it irritating. Like Liam Gallagher, who compared Blur to Chas & Dave (who I actually like), I had dismissed the band prematurely based on an accent. Schoolboy error. This album has far more than the singalong anthems of 'Girls and Boys' and 'Parklife.' There's some punky stuff in the form of 'Bank Holiday,' a Syd Barrett pastiche called 'Far Out,' and the album's highlight in my opinion, 'This Is A Low,' an anthem that the Oasis boys would have surely been proud of.

Blur - The Great Escape (1995)

Critics panned this album and declared Oasis the winners of the Britpop war at the time, but in hindsight this was unfair, especially knowing now that Blur went headlong into avant-garde territory with their next two albums. They were no 'one trick pony.' This one has a similar structure to Parklife with some anthems like 'The Universal,' which sees the band emulating the gang of thugs in 'A Clockwork Orange' in the video, as well as the odd punk blast, and the National Lottery themed anthem 'It Could Be You.' However, in spite of the great melodies and harmonies, there is a darker feel to this album than Parklife, from the jaded guest vocal from Ken Livingstone on 'Ernold Same' to the resigned sadness of 'Best Days.' If your mood needs picking up again at the end, simply replay the openers, 'Stereotypes' and 'Country House.'

Hawkwind - Levitation (1980)

This album is Hawkwind at a junction point, returning to a certain extent to the space rock and psychedelia of their early years. The rock anthems like Motorway City, Levitation and Who's Gonna Win The War are broken up with ethereal instrumental music. The bonus tracks go much deeper into experimental territory, particularly the completely bonkers 'Douglas in the Jungle.' 'Valium 10' is also good fun (not taking it, listening to it, I hasten to add), and the live rendition of Brainstorm gives an oldie of theirs a twist, opening with a jazzy drum solo. (Review refers to disc one of the three-CD set.)

The Beatles - Abbey Road (1969)

It does seem that no matter what new music and genres I discover, the Beatles always get a regular airing. There were perhaps more adept musicians around in the sixties, but there is something legendary about the combination of the four of them with George Martin, the only contender for the epithet 'fifth Beatle' in my opinion, as he literally made the impossible possible. Perhaps it is partly the way four working class lads conquered the world and partly the 'love and peace' ethos, sadly lost in the era of Trumpism and hate masquerading as political views. Visit the Cavern Club in Liverpool and you'll find it still alive. Anyway, Abbey Road, what can I say? Classic follows classic, and there is Paul's symphonic finish which even Elbow couldn't touch with their rendition of Golden Slumbers a little while back. One of my favourites is 'I Want You (She's So Heavy)' which sees the foursome simultaneously dabbling in jazz, lyrical minimalism and heavy rock. I rest my case!

Photo: Myself on the famous zebra crossing in 2011.

The Beatles – A Hard Day's Night (1964)

One from the earlier years of the Beatles. Young and innocent days? Well, not really, and I get the impression that John Lennon in particular hated the manufactured image. Anyway, the music holds up. My favourites are not the big hits but the more introspective songs, particularly 'If I Fell' and 'Things We Said Today.' That said, the rock and roll of 'You Can't Do That' is tremendous, with Ringo pushing the cowbell into overtime. When you think that this was hastily assembled as a soundtrack, you realise that the Beatles could just churn out quality at the drop of a hat! Other favourites of mine from the early years are 'I'll Follow The Sun,' 'Anna (Go To Him),' 'Baby, It's You,' 'Yes It Is' and 'This Boy' which all have a surprisingly melancholic quality for such successful young men.

Oasis – Definitely Maybe (1994)

Often the first album released by an artist has a vibrancy that the other albums don't quite have. Examples in my opinion go from John Lennon's first proper solo album 'Plastic Ono Band' to Travis's 'Good Feeling.' I sometimes put this down to not having the comforts of money and fame, but I've already undone my own argument with the 'John Lennon' example as he'd had a good six years of both by then and appeared thoroughly sick of it! So, Oasis. When this album came out the band literally were an oasis in the desert of dance tracks that filled the charts. Guitars were back in and I let out a 'Hallelujah.' Favourites of mine are the psychedelic blues of 'Shakermaker,' the brooding mantra-like 'Columbia' and the epic 'Slide Away,' announced by its memorable opening guitar note. There's even room for a bit of comedy with 'Digsy's Dinner' and 'Married With Children.' People said they were the new Beatles at the time, although the influence wasn't blatantly obvious until the release of 'Whatever.'

I've also added a new Miles Davis album to my collection recently, a mix of ethereal ambiance and eighties lounge jazz called 'Aura.' However, after only a handful of listens I don't feel qualified to review it yet. I'll be back with another batch soon, and again, and again, and again, until the poxy pubs are open! Please Boris, we're climbing up the walls here. And that's a Radiohead reference to finish. Another time...

STOP PRESS: The musical musings and humour continue in '2021: A Musical Odyssey' - now available in digital and paperback formats.

Desert Island Albums - 2013 [Adam's Music reviews #1]

Many of the pieces I write for this blog are edited versions of articles I write for a local magazine. This month I am going to give you something different. I always enjoy writing about music, so I thought I'd initiate a 'Desert Island Discs' feature. [This is BBC Radio 4's programme where famous people choose records they would like to have with them if stranded on a desert island.] I have selected ten of my favourite albums (or downloads) in no particular order and given the reason why I have chosen them. The musical musings and humour continue in '2021: A Musical Odyssey' - now available in digital and paperback formats.

Pink Floyd – The Dark Side of the Moon (1973). 'Money' is about the only song on this album which receives regular airplay (usually edited because of the rude word), but the album spent 6 consecutive years on the UK album chart. All human life is explained in the lyrics. 'Time' is particularly apt. If I had to pick a second PF album it would be a tough choice between 'The Wall' and the totally bonkers 'Ummagumma,' which features a track called 'Grantchester Meadows' (see photo).

The Beatles – White Album (1968). The sequel to Magical Mystery Tour (which in turn followed Sgt Pepper). On this album, the Beatles did whatever they felt like with no constraints towards commercialism. Styles vary from folk to Charleston to country and western to heavy metal, and 'Revolution 9' simulates the effect of waking up during a series of bizarre dreams, before Ringo lulls us back to sleep with 'Good Night'.

Bob Dylan – Bringing It All Back Home (1965). Lyrically I think this is Dylan's masterpiece. You've got 'Mr Tambourine Man' and 'Subterranean Homesick Blues', but for me the highlight is the verbal deluge of 'It's alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding'. This album is half folk and half rock – both sides of Mr Zimmerman's oeuvre. For a second Dylan choice, 1996's 'Time Out of Mind' comes close, but so do about ten others!

Brian Wilson – Smile (2004). The Beach Boys' lost album from 1967 finally appeared in the early 'noughties' as a solo effort (but still sounding like the surfing group). More like a concert-piece of linked songs, the lyrics are fun and random (such as a song about vegetables), but with a sense of triumph that the composer, who pretty much lost his mind making this the first time around, had finally pulled the album together. Includes 'Heroes and Villains' as it was supposed to be heard and 'Good Vibrations' (often voted the best single of all time).

Radiohead – OK Computer (1997). The 90s were almost like the new 60s in terms of music, with a return to rock styles. The Oxford band here went beyond rock with experimentation hinting at what would come on later albums, whilst retaining some very memorable songs such as 'Paranoid Android' and 'Karma Police'. The lyrics seem to be a rather cynical look at life (a la Dark Side of the Moon). 'No alarms and no surprises' depicts provincial life very adeptly too.

Blur – 13 (1999). Blur are usually remembered for the Chas and Dave-esque singalongs from the 'Parklife' era, but on this album they pushed the envelope, with everything from a 7-minute folk anthem ('Tender') to several all-out sonic assaults worthy of Hawkwind. I think Damon Albarn was trying to illustrate how his head felt at the time following a break-up, and he did a pretty good job. Phew.

Mike Oldfield – Hergest Ridge (1974). Most people would opt for Tubular Bells. This album follows the same format, with two very long pieces on which Mike plays most of the instruments. The mostly relaxing style (inspired by rural walks on the aforementioned ridge) makes the intense sonic assault a third of the way into side two even more striking.

The Kinks – Arthur (or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire) (1969). Following the more famous 'Village Green Preservation Society' album, this one depicts an old man looking back over his life and assessing the worth of it, from the Victorian era ('when the rich were so mean' to quote the lyrics), to the world wars, to his family emigrating to Australia, and finally the sad repeated refrain of 'Arthur' at the end. Here the Kinks gave us longer instrumental jams like 'Australia' and it is unfortunate that the band are generally only remembered for their singles.

Dire Straits – Love Over Gold (1982). Here, most people would go for 'Brothers in Arms', but this album includes the 14-minute 'Telegraph Road' (which seems like a brief history of civilisation),'Private Investigations' (where a Spanish guitar has never sounded so menacing) and the amusing 'Industrial Disease' in which Mark Knopfler impersonates a doctor!

Beethoven - 3rd symphony "Eroica" (1804). You have to have a 'token gesture' classical piece when you go on Desert Island Discs so here is mine. This one has the famous melodic first movement (make sure you get the full 17-minute version), followed by a dramatic funeral march, a light third movement and a rousing finale. Initially composed to honour Napolean, Beethoven changed his mind as the leader's lust for power became apparent. The 5th 6th and 9th symphonies are also pretty essential.