Listening to “I Should Have Stopped”

John Wesley Harding’s “I Should Have Stopped” is a song that, for lack of a better phrase, speaks to me. But perhaps it’s an apt metaphor, because this is a very literary song — as much about words as music. It’s from Harding’s 2011 album, The Sound of His Own Voice, and it tells a short story with astonishing depth in a mere 3:55. It’s also melodic and jangly, sung with Harding’s trademark British accent and wry delivery. Give it a listen:

Song and Story

Harding (aka Wesley Stace) is also a novelist, so it’s not surprising that his songs should have a literary bent. “I Should Have Stopped” is one of his best in this regard as it contains a fully-formed plot, lots of idiosyncratic detail, and a series of clever transitions between past and present narratives. In short, the song is about a guy who sees a women at the laundromat with whom he once had the sort of unformed glimmer of romance that marks one’s early teenage years. He wants to talk to her, but he doesn’t.

What makes the story so compelling is the level of nuance Harding brings to the telling. Through a series of flashbacks, we learn that the narrator and his crush shared a few awkward encounters but always seemed to be kept apart by their differences in status and confidence. In the example of the school play, the narrator “ended up as prompter for the matinees,” while his crush, the more precocious of the two “played Salome.” The present moment is equally vivid, as the narrator spots his former beloved in the midst of laundry day. She’s “looking pretty special in her disco hat,” suggesting that she retains some of her former panache, but maybe it’s become a touch sad and out of date. Or as he puts it: “You’re eyes look kind of tired, but you basically look the same (the same).”

All of this makes for a striking story, and Harding even commented that, “Everyone asks me about the song ‘I Should Have Stopped,’ and they go ‘Who is that woman?’; and the answer is that I just made it up!” The first-person narrative combined with such exceptional detail goes a long way toward making this song feel real.

“We will never know the mystery again”

But the seeming verisimilitude is more than the result of clever songcraft. What makes “I Should Have Known” so captivating is an emotional truth with universal appeal. I think many people have someone like the crush in this song, not even a first love, but a first infatuation, a first person who made them understand, if only to a tiny degree, what a first love might be.

There’s someone I count in this category, a boy I liked in 8th grade and danced with at many a middle school dance. I remember they played “Say You’ll be There,” by the Spice Girls, and he told me how he liked the song  specifically because of the great harmonica solo. (A daring admission for a boy, and perceptive too.)  Even now, I remember our connection as being somehow real, our conversations having depth, despite our youth and the general impossibility of the fledging relationship going anywhere. These connections, though seemingly inconsequential in the long term, stick with us.

The poignant side to “I Should Have Stopped” comes out in the fact that the narrator should have stopped — but he didn’t. And his circumstances are even a little bit desperate. He acknowledges that rather than stopping, he’ll be going back to “the mess at home,”  a mess that surely must make the appeal of a lost flame that much more alluring. But ultimately, he accepts the reality that you can’t go back again. “Because it’s ancient history and we are not the same/And we will never know the mystery again.”

The reason I love this song is that there are some mysteries that we will never know again. I don’t particularly want to see any of my old crushes at a laundromat. But one of the joys of great art is that it lets you relive the experiences and emotions you may never have again— and explore what-ifs that will probably never come to pass.

Related listening

The Kinks’ “Do You Remember Walter?” is another marvel of economic storytelling that also makes use of a past-to-present shift. Ray Davies tells a story of boyhood friendship and explores sad fate of adulthood, all in under three minutes.

XTC’s “Harvest Festival” is another story-song that captures youthful infatuation and the perspective of age. The line “more than enough to keep me fed all year” is almost unbearably brilliant.

And believe it or not, “Say You’ll Be There” holds up rather well.