1968 Mary Hopkin: Those Were The Days

One thing I've noticed as I've travelled along this thing called life is that it's not uncommon for me to change my viewpoint on any given song from like to extreme dislike. Sometimes it goes further - I fond it hard to believe that in the mid eighties I (for a short time anyway), loved Chris deBurgh to distraction. I still have the albums I bought as proof and very now and again I'll take them down from the shelf and ponder in wonder at what the hell I ever saw in any of it. But see in them I did, albeit through an innocence and naivety that gave those songs a kind of meaning which age has since withered and the realisation that I no longer see the world through sixteen year old eyes tends to promote a sad shake of the head before I put them back in their proper place in my racks - unplayed yet undeniable (though you can read more of my deBurgh years here).

Conversely, 'Those Were The Days' is a song familiar from my seventies childhood and conspicuous in that it was something the 'me' of 'then' had little time or appreciation for. The whole 'message' of the song did not resonate with me at all. Even in my late teens I thought that Hopkin, barely older than I was, was far too shrill in telling her tale and just needed to get out more - 'these' were the days as far as I was concerned and would always be thus. In truth it's hard to be nostalgic when you have no past to speak of, but the passing of time has by default righted that particular 'wrong' and now, having experienced many 'taverns' and many dreams, I find 'Those Were The Days' has matured alongside me to the point where my views have taken a U turn.*

Far from shrill, I recognise now that Hopkin interprets the lyric with a wistful prettiness, invoking regret in a way that belies her own eighteen years. When she paints herself as an older 'lonely woman' it's more than characterisation or interpretation - it's entirely believable. And more than that, Hopkin gives the song a universal appeal perhaps not intend by lyricist Gene Raskin who put the English lyric to a Russian folk tune. Raskin's song was time and place specific in that it related to New York's White Horse Tavern in Greenwich Village, an important venue for the sixties folk scene whose passing the song laments. Hopkin negates such self indulgence by locating the song's heart in the simple passing of youthful joy and idealism but at the same time making it clear in the last verse that happiness is not solely the province of the young.

There's a Beatles connection here that wouldn't have hindered either - the first release on the band's new Apple label and a Paul McCartney production to boot, McCartney in turn is savvy enough to realise that Hopkin's voice is as big a star as the song itself and he gives it the room it needs to stress the open ended daydream on the verses, allowing the vocal to wind down before pushing the song's Russian origins to the fore on the clockwork klezmer dance chorus (which nods to Topol's recording of 'If I Were A Rich Man' from 'Fiddler On The Roof' that reached number nine the previous year) until it's hard not to get caught up and sing along.

If I have any complaint, it's that the five minute song would have been more effective cut down to three, but Hopkin's voice is easy enough on the ear not to irritate and the whole 'point' of the song is encapsulated in that recurring chorus, a sepia toned sadness given colour by the camaraderie of the present. Which means if listened to in the right company then it can't come 'round often enough.


* In a similar vein, I had great difficulties with Pink Floyd's 'Time' - "And then one day you find ten years have got behind you. No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun". "How could anybody let ten years slip away?" I used to think? A fair enough comment when you're barely ten yourself but ah dear reader, my hubris is still biting my arse with a vengeance.