What The Sundays Mean To Someone Who’s Never Been In Love
Words: Holt Daniels
December 8, 2023
I know I’m not the only one who’s stumbled upon The Sundays’s music this year and become entranced.
With their songs newly populating on Spotify playlists, Instagram stories from that one stylishly cool person you find yourself social media stalking a little too much, and this past summer’s niche-indie-girl-with-red-ribbon-and-dark-lipstick TikTok videos, it seems the band is making a comeback among a small fraction of Gen Z. Although the band is relatively known among an older generation that were teenagers and young adults at the time of the band’s three album releases over the 90s, discovering them in 2023 feels like a blessing. I found them and immediately wanted to discuss the beauty of their music with everyone I knew. Besides the band’s rich and all-encompassing sound, perhaps the most deeply felt aspect is Harriet Wheeler’s enchanting lyrics. They are effortless poems, providing words to the often confusing and ambiguous feelings associated with love. There comes a deep satisfaction when you even think you understand what Harriet is trying to say. And her unforgettable voice paired with her arresting melodies elevate her words until the only thing you want to do is roll around and soak in every single lyric she delivers.
I’ll never forget how seen I felt the time I discovered Harriet was singing the lyrics, “Oh, I never should have said the books that you read / Were all I loved you for,” on the song that got me into the band’s music, “Here’s Where The Story Ends.” I’d been leisurely listening to the song over the months as winter turned to spring, but frankly I had no clue what the lyrics were until I read them. My senior year of high school was almost over, I’d still yet to experience a serious romantic relationship, and the most intense crushes I’d had were more about the not-so-accurate idea of them I fantasized about rather than the actual person I had the crush on. Usually, my crushes deserved nowhere near that much credit.
I was “in love” with the books my crushes read, the music they listened to, or the films they watched. I thought if they also liked these things, it said something about our assured romantic compatibility. I usually knew nothing about who they were or what they had to say about the interests I thought we shared in common.
To me, in those lyrics Harriet regretfully, though bravely, admits she’s only in love with the idea of her partner. Our human nature leads us to desperately scavenge to create a person who checks the boxes of our ideal partner when we can’t seem to find them. Her lyrics signify a moment of letting go of that fantasy and looking at the person in front of her as who they are. And unfortunately, this is where their story ends. Maybe because they were never actually compatible; maybe because it’s difficult to accept people as they are and do the work to love them holistically – for their quirks and complications.
Through The Sundays music I feel I’ve found a new understanding of myself, one that becomes clearer as I make my transition into fresh adulthood. On “A Certain Someone,” Harriet speaks further to my pressing issue of idealized love. She carelessly sings the refrain, “If I could have anything in the world for free / I wouldn’t share it with anyone else but me,” and then in a whisper-like delivery, as if an afterthought, she adds, “Except perhaps a certain someone…” Harriet names the tendency to be self-restrained. While she could have flings with passing lovers or momentary encounters destined to eventually end, she’d rather keep her things and her life for herself. But the complication is, of course, maybe she would share with the right person. Maybe she has someone in mind, or maybe she has no one in mind.
Because I’m young and because I’ve yet to have that genuine, vulnerable romantic connection with someone, I’m self-restrained too. Especially living nineteen years as an only child, the world – as I’m most comfortable with it – is set out for me to encounter solo. It's extremely hard to foresee myself handing over any control over my future and how I spend my time to another person just because we're in love. Love is a silly thing, I think. As I age another year still single, I begin questioning: why is having a partner even so important? But then, in the depths of the night as I lay awake unable to sleep, I crave that perfect person. I crave some sweet reassurance to tell me I’m beautiful, that I can make it through the rest of my life present and content, and have the ability to be loved. Perhaps a certain someone – whoever they might be – would make living life, in that way, easier.
In my first semester at Brown, I’ve encountered some possible certain someones. And naturally, I’ve romanticized the idea of being with them, despite only knowing them for a few weeks, embarrassingly maybe even a few days. For the first month here, I had the song “Love” on daily repeat. The chorus sings “Love, love, love / Just love yourself like no one else,” a reminder to keep self-love and self-assurance at the center of my beginning here. But on the second verse Harriet sings something so arresting: “If you don’t have a clue about life / Then I’m happy, happy, happy to say / Neither have I, although / I’m not gonna shrug my shoulders and suck my thumb / This time.” It's an open invitation to kindling a relationship. You’re young and you don’t know what you're doing, and I’m young and I don’t know what I’m doing either. Like Harriet suggests, let’s figure it all out together. We don’t have to be like children indifferently sucking on our thumbs. We’re adults, pretty much, and it's time to try our luck – maybe something worthwhile will come from it.
Though, it’s hard to process the romantic messages people may (or may not) have been sending me. On “God Made Me,” Harriet sings, “The face that you had, face that you had / Is becoming a blur,” twice repeating the first part like its repeating image in her mind – an image she’s trying to grasp though it only becomes more misconstrued. But from their cryptic expression, she returns, “how was I supposed to know that?” Were you sending me messages? It can be hard to pick up on if someone is lending even the slightest vulnerability, timidly showing me their romantic interest. And it's even more vulnerable to come to a conclusion about if their look meant anything. If I do, I’m admitting that I may return that interest. I may have to make a move if I do: the scariest thing of all.
Harriet continues on the song, “Because God made me / That’s all they told me before / And how about you?” If I’m to return this possible romance – one that I’m not even sure you’re open to – just know I’m a creation and a human on this earth, she's saying. I’m bound to be vulnerable and take risks, that's just what humans do. Will you recognize that too? Can you let loose and trust me?
“Seeing it's worth the effort, I forgive myself,” Harriet sings earlier in the song. She reminds us it's okay for crushes, relationships, or love, to fail. Through each interaction we learn more about ourselves and what we want; The Sundays remind me there’s beauty in that.