This seemed to be an appropriate (if a bit delightfully sacrilegious) song for the day before Easter. Holy Week itself has always had a bit of a “final countdown” feel to it, but it wasn’t until last year while I was getting vested to sing the Palm Sunday service that a friend of mine commented that the run up to Easter always put her in the mind of “that Europe song – you know the one?” And I, being a total goober who can recall obscure Monteverdi motets on command but not, like, I don’t know, anything more recent and normal, was like, “the what song?” Upon hearing her sing the synth riff, the lyrics of the song came back to me, and I have to admit that I laughed so hard I started crying. This, mind you, comes from a baptized, confirmed, tithing, choir-singing Episcopalian. Never mind that the words really don’t make any sense in any sort of context, nor, for that matter, does the video (marshland? a church spire? trains? what?)
So, while you’re decorating the Easter eggs, glazing the ham, breaking out all of your festive pastels, and relishing the thought of diving back into whatever it was you gave up for Lent*, I encourage you to share the day with the bouffant boys of Europe.
*I gave up cursing. It has been excruciatingly difficult. And, yes, while it was meaningful and now I am more aware of cursing, which is great, oh man – I’m going to be cursing like a happy little sailor while I cook Easter dinner Sunday afternoon.