Tag: New Year's Eve

In the winter of 1996, the Counting Crows’ lead singer Adam Duritz composed the lyrics for a song that would be called “A Long December,” eventually released on Britney Spears’ birthday (three short years before the world would know who Spears was), December 2nd. Leaving the entire month to let listeners either take the song as a call to suicide based on its sound, or as an urging to have hope for the new year based on the lyrics themselves. The ones that naively assure, “It’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe/Maybe this year will be better than the last.”

Such a foolish statement to make, of course. Especially for anyone who’s lived more than a decade on this planet. But, as it is said, “Hope dies last” (thus, 28 Days Later proves humans keep going even when they should very clearly commit suicide). They say it’s the greatest testament to human strength and fortitude, but sometimes one can’t help but think it’s the greatest testament to human stupidity…and willful selfishness. The fact that, year after year, the worse the world gets, the more people become invested in the idea of their own personal well-being and “growth.” As though “turning inward” and becoming increasingly blind to the collective injustices wrought upon humanity is the best and only way to cope. Maybe it is. 

In 1996, the Year of Our “A Long December,” things were still, objectively speaking, slightly more “hunky-dory” than they are now. At least, one has to admit, climate change-wise. Hence, 2023’s transition into 2024 marking headlines like, “World will look back at 2023 as year humanity exposed its inability to tackle climate crisis, scientists say.” But since when has anyone ever listened to scientists (as 2020’s pandemic very clearly demarcated)? Not until it’s too late and the forewarning guidance is effectively rendered useless. Even on the U.S. political front, things were undeniably, let’s say “more manageable.” Not only was it pre-Clinton sex scandal, it was pre-existence-of-Trump-as-a-presidential-thought. With the advent of 2024, and the unfathomable reality that Trump somehow has yet another viable shot at the presidency despite being impeached twice, well, that should be enough to indicate, without a shadow of doubt, to even the most Pollyanna-esque of optimists that things don’t really get better with a new year. The more time wears on, in fact, the more it all has the potential to go horribly awry rather than become increasingly “repaired.” Perhaps that’s why when Duritz sing-speaks, “Maybe this year will be better than the last,” it sounds rather half-hearted and unconvincing. 

Written in response to a friend being run over by a car and getting badly injured, Duritz’s intent was to reflect on the pain of the past, while also looking forward to the “promise” of the future (even if, the older you get, the more society renders you invisible). At that time, it was Duritz’s glamorous present he might have chosen to reflect on, which, one supposes, he kind of did by including Courteney Cox in the video, directed by Lawrence Carroll. Indeed, it was after appearing in the video that the two started dating…this also being not long after Duritz already dabbled with another “Friend’s” vagina: Jennifer Aniston. So yes, his 90s present offered plenty to feel positive about. So did a lot of people’s 90s present, in fact. It seemed as though a general hopefulness had washed over most of the decade, in spite of it heralding the twenty-four-hour “tabloid news” cycle that would create a new breed of desensitization in the twenty-first century. 

But before that aspect of political fear-mongering and overexposed celebrity culture became so absurd, Duritz was able to feature Cox in his video with little fanfare (or not as much as there would have been in a post-TMZ world). With the segments divvied up to give both parties essentially the same amount of screen time, Cox is mostly shown in a dark, uber-depressing room that smacks of a prison cell as she sits on a bench next to a table and holds crumpled-up notes in her hand. The video also features a bevy of dates, including August 6th (incidentally, the same day that Hiroshima was bombed), indicating the temporal progress of the year, ergo the forceful and fierce passage of time that eventually portends all of our demises. This much is evoked via the scenes of Duritz and Cox featured throughout the video that soon become nothing more than Polaroid snapshots—the moments of their lives reduced to mere “recorded memories” (so it is that Duritz notes, “I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell my myself/To hold on to these moments as they pass”). The snow falling ambiently for most of the video also emphasizes the point of winter, the ultimate symbolism of “the end” of something. Whether an actual life, or the signal of a new beginning. However mundane or inauspicious it might be. 

Cox’s “character” in the video gradually grapples with that reality. Slowly coming to accept Duritz’s (and most people grasping at straws for some sliver of hope) philosophy that “life is what you make of it”—or some shit. No matter how ugly it all might get. The important thing, they insist, is to maintain a positive outlook (e.g., “It’s been so long since I’ve seen the ocean/I guess I should”). Yet even Duritz, for as optimistic as he tries to remain throughout this melancholic-sounding song, lets a more than faint trace of “cynicism” trickle in with the line, “And the feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters, but no pearls.” Perhaps the only truly honest observation Duritz makes throughout the still beloved “New Year’s single.” 

Which is why it’s so fleeting—barely detectable in the song for the undiscerning ear. Instead, all anyone can really hear is the hopeful tinge of, “It’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe/Maybe this year will be better than the last.” Even though, as any pragmatist knows, the lyrics, of course, should go, “It’s been a long December and there’s absolutely no reason to believe/That this year could possibly be better than the last.” The laws of devolution simply can’t make it so. And oh, how the devolution keeps progressing.