EARWORM OF THE DAY: SHE'S NOT THERE by the Zombies

This is a 1964 song about a ghost.  I don't mean it was planned and written that way, I'm talking about the way I hear it in my head 47 years later, over and over again.

Ghosts are personal, part of the imagination, the life of the mind.  Please don't bother trying to find them, they're not there.   But let me tell you about the way they laugh, the way they act and the color of their hair.  Their voices are soft and cool, their eyes are clear and bright.

But they're not there.

Ghosts are valuable as psychological metaphors, as universals much like the parabolic characters in our fiction at large.  They're there even when they're not there, like the vanishing Madeleine/Carlotta/Kim Novak in Vertigo.  This song, "She's Not There," would fit in the soundtrack of Vertigo or any number of other movies, of other stories.

For instance, take Cornell Woolrich's Phantom Lady.  You and your wife have an argument.  You leave angry and go for a walk, you may even seek diversion and spend the evening flirting with some stranger.  While you are gone, a fiend kills your wife, and, as these horrific things go, you are confronted not only with your loss but with your mournful guilt for the silly little argument, for leaving her alone.

But it's too late to say you're sorry.

You explain to the police, tell them what little you know about the lady you were with that night, sketchy details, you describe the color of her eyes and her hair, the sound of her voice.  But when the police try to find her--you guessed it: she's not there.

Nobody can tell you about her.  No doubt she lied about herself.  Even more mysterious, people report seeing you dine alone.  No use in trying to find her.

I love this song, especially the electric organ solo in the middle which eerily sounds like all the ghosts laughing at your dilemma, death hilarious.

The song is told with urgency, breathlessly; she must be found.  The fact that keeps slapping you in the face is the realization that she somehow may be just a part of your imagination.  She's not there!  But she must be, you insist.  Just let me tell you about the way she looks, the way she acts and the color of her hair. . .

The song is continued, looped in ironic noir and perpetual tragic abeyance.  You can see her as plainly as your can hear this song in your head, even when it isn't actually playing.  Years afterwards.

The original recording is better, especially the electric organ, but you can hear the song here, at the youtube link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5IRI4oHKNU


  Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there

Well no one told me about her, what could I do
Well no one told me about her, though they all knew
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there

Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there

------ electric piano ------

But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there

Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there