"You're not the Only One I Know" by The Sundays

My infatuation with the now-forgotten British group known as the Sundays began, sadly, near the end. Their second CD, “Blind” was good, but not impressive (at least, I thought so back then). In 1997, which I think is the best year of music in my lifetime so far, the Sundays released their third album, “Static & Silence”. I fell in love with it and haven’t stopped listening since.
Nineteen ninety seven will also be permanently etched In my memory because it would probably be the last time I went abroad. The whole family went to the States on a package tour, and during an evening stop at the local Seven Eleven, me and my brother separated ourselves from the pack (after purchasing a Big Gulp, of course) to browse the nearest Wherehouse. It sold lots of secondhand records, and I found a beaten-up cassette of the Sundays’ first effort, the wonderfully titled “Reading Writing & Arithmetic”.
I must say, I wasn’t initially smitten by the thing. Most of the songs in side A are floaty, weedy indie jams. But when I turned the tape around (this being the days of the cassette), I encountered the thing of wonder that is “You’re not the Only One I Know”. Needless to say, i love it immediately. It’s a great pop song.
Musically, the arrangement seem to borrow wholesale from the Smiths’ “Well I Wonder”, though this has a more chipper pace and a rather juvenile attitude (more explanation about this follows). The bass-line on the intro is superb, and the economic guitar playing mid-song deserves thumbs-up for subtlety and grace. On hindsight, the Sundays resembled the Smiths with a female lead singer. ( Elsewhere, “Here’s Where The story Ends” has the same dynamic as “Cemetry Gates”). But just listen to that voice! I don’t think anyone has ever equaled Harriet Wheeler’s dulcet tones. Bjork is too quirky, Leigh Nash too baby-ish, Angie Hart too whimsical. Hell, I have begun to think that no other voice will equal that.
The lyrics, as I mentioned before, is, well, a bit immature. “Where’s the harm in talking out loud? What’s so wrong in reading my stars? I’m too proud to talk to you anyway” It’s a million miles away from the maturity displayed in “Static & Silence”. But these days I find myself longing for that kind of defiance. In society, in our workplace especially, its sometimes too easy to fall to other people’s expectation of normality. This song always brings a smile when some guy said I’m a bit weird. Hey, man, what’s so wrong in reading Batman comics in the age approaching 30? Where’s the harm in getting choked up from listening to classic Elvis? Dude, slag off, I’m far too proud to talk to you anyway!
OK, so, back to the day I purchased this precious piece of plastic… I listened to the whole tape over and over (alternating it sometimes with another second-hand purchase : Prefab Sprout’s “From Langley Park to Memphis”, but that’s another story), and the whole album grows on me. I listened to it on the bus, I listened to it while watching Star Trek, I listened to it while munching on industrial-size packs of Cheetos.
The Sundays became part of my life. They still are, and, I strongly suspect, will always be.