Inappropriate sleigh bells
What we can learn from Celine Dion's unreliable narrator
Happy new year! I’m going to be contrarian and say that 2020 was not a huge dumpster fire. Yes, it was hard and dumb and disappointing. But it also made me appreciate the little things I’d taken for granted, like stocked grocery store shelves and family and health.
That said, I like a blank slate as much as anyone else. This year, I’m focusing on three things:
Geting out of my own way. A friend once told me, “You make life harder than it has to be,” and I never knew what she meant. I’m starting to get it. Perfection is the enemy of done, for example. Also, Ludacris (NSFW).
Seeing and creating systems in my life, both professionally and personally. I read James Clear’s Atomic Habits in early 2019 and I’m still knitting its ideas into my life, like his emphasis on systems rather than goals.
Hearing and replacing my unspoken scripts. My inner voice can be helpful but she’s also mean. Really mean. So this year I’m replacing mean thoughts with three grateful ones. This is partly inspired by the last part of this article: be mindful of what you’re mindful of.
And with that, let’s cut to this week’s story: how one sound can reveal so much about character.
The story
“It’s All Coming Back To Me Now” is a power ballad (note 1) that looks back on a failed, obsessive relationship. As the song progresses, the protagonist works through the emotions that come with a break-up, starting with sadness and coming through to equanimity.
The song starts with string instruments, ominous chords and lilting piano before Celine introduces this delicious slice of self-pity:
There were nights when the wind was so cold
That my body froze in bed
If I just listened to it
Right outside the window
There were days when the sun was so cruel
That all the tears turned to dust
And I just knew my eyes were
Drying up forever (forever)
A touch melodramatic, you say? Yes, but even so, don’t you love that echoed “foreeeeeever”? A chorus of voices that literally backs up Celine’s presence at this pity party.
It’s in the next section, starting at 1:21, that the genius happens.
I finished crying in the instant that you left
And I can't remember where or when or how
And I banished every memory you and I had ever made
Did you catch it? “It” being the unmistakable sound of sleighbells (note 2), four per line:
It’s especially prominent in that last line, as the bells sound in double time (that is, twice as frequently) to emphasize “you and I had ever made.”
Celine’s character swears she’s over the ex-lover. But she’s not quite there yet. At 2:06, the sleigh bells are back, insistent and constant while she admits that:
It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now
The sleigh bells go dormant until the 4:03 mark, and this time they bring friends. The section kicks off with sleigh bells plus the crash of cymbals, and as the song goes on, they get backing from a full drum kit (note 3). They’re also chiming in double time, eight times per line:
Something curious happens at the end of the section. The first time we heard the sleigh bells at 1:21, they ratcheted into double time at the end of the section, when Celine sang “you and I had ever made.”
So when this melodic section shows up again at 4:03, we expect the same thing to happen. The fact the sleigh bells come in double time reinforces these expectations.
But these are not the same sleigh bells as before. They’re losing steam, fading into the distance, and as she finishes the phrase “I never wasted any of my time…” they drop out completely.
The sleigh bells aren’t just aural ornamentation; they’re a marker of her unresolved feelings. In the beginning of the song she says she’s over her ex-lover, but the sleigh bells belie her true feelings. It isn’t until she’s resolved her feelings (note 4) and finds her inner strength (“made myself so strong again somehow”) that she can honestly say that she’s done. And the sleigh bells go away.
Did a friend share this unnecessarily detailed analysis of sleigh bells in a ‘90s power ballad? If you’re enjoying it, subscribe to get more story dissections straight in your inbox:
Why it works
Sleigh bells are weird. They’re rarely used outside of Christmas carols, so when they are, we pay attention (note 5). The first time I heard the sleigh bells in this song, I laughed out loud because they were so unexpected and also so fitting for such a dramatic, operatic song.
The unresolved memories could have been represented by a more typical instrument, maybe with a prominent guitar riff or drum roll. Or, the song could have gone completely bonkers and used an instrument like the pan flute or a steel drum—but that would have been too obvious. The sleigh bells somehow fit into the sonic atmosphere of the song, while still drawing attention to themselves.
And haven’t we all heard proverbial sleigh bells before? It’s easier to distract ourselves with faux courage than to face our real feelings, to tell everyone that we’ve moved on when we haven’t. We can run from the pain but eventually it catches up with us.
What we can learn from it
Small choices and tiny details can make a big difference. Can you enjoy “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now” without noticing the sleigh bells? Sure. Do you get more enjoyment when you hear them, and even more when you realize what they’re doing? Absolutely.
When you’re making stuff, it’s easy to forget the many small choices that you make. Some may be subconscious or intuitive, but you make them nonetheless.
More to the point, there is pleasure and value in paying attention to what others might write off as silly. You just read 880 words about sleigh bells in a song that most people write off as Music You Hear At The Dentist’s Office. It’s easy to think of pop music, especially something like “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now,” as overwrought, manufactured drivel. The funny thing is, when you look at anything closely enough, you start to see the threads that hold it together, the choices that someone made, and the work that goes into making things (note 6). And more important, you learn to appreciate that work—and maybe bring elements of it to your own.
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Notes
(1) When I first heard this song, I thought it sounded like a Meatloaf song. No surprise, then, that it was written by Jim Steinem, who collaborated with Meatloaf on several albums.
What is surprising is that Celine Dion’s version is actually a cover. The original was recorded by Pandora’s Box for their album Original Sin, which was released in 1989. More surprising is that Steinem seems to have lifted the production from the Pandora’s Box version—strings, guitars, whooshes and all—and dropped it wholesale into the Celine Dion version.
This CBC article goes into detail about the weird and wonderful history of the song.
(2) Or are they? To my ear, they sound like sleigh bells, but I’m open to the possibility it’s a really jangly tambourine. The liner notes only reference “percussion” and aren’t much help here.
(3) The added backing of the drum kit and instrumentation seems to give oomph to the sleigh bells, but they can also be seen as Celine’s character exerting her own agency into the situation. As she resolves her feelings, the sleigh bells fade away; as she learns to own her story, the other instruments drown out the sleigh bells.
(4) If you’re only familiar with the radio edit, it’s worth listening to the full album version (which is embedded at the top of the post). It includes an extended second verse in which Celine’s character interrogates her complicity in the relationship’s failure:
There were those empty threats and hollow lies
And whenever you tried to hurt me
I just hurt you even worse
And so much deeper
(5) In this episode of Switched on Pop, hosts Nate Sloan and Charlie Harding dissect the use of unseasonal sleigh bells. For example: starting at 2:20 in the guitar-tastic instrumental of Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” (which is, surprise! also a Jim Steinem song) and in the introduction to The Beach Boys “God Only Knows.”
Since listening to that episode, I’ve developed bionic sleigh bell hearing. Take “Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child. The chorus is already an aural carnival, with odd sounds punctuating the ends of the vocal lines: two kinds of sparkles, an electronic sound that makes me think of a balloon drifting out of someone’s hand and, at 1:07, the single shake of sleigh bells.
Sleigh bells are also an unexpected, constant backing track in Snoop Dog’s “Gin and Juice,” where they add levity and lightness to the otherwise gritty-sounding song.
(6) I’d resigned Celine Dion to the cheesy pop category until I read Carl Wilson’s Let’s Talk About Love. It sets out to answer the question: “Why do so many people hate Celine Dion?” Had you told me it was a book about the philosophy of aesthetics and taste, I probably would have given it a pass—but framed through the lens of Celine Dion, I tried it. I’m glad I did. It made me think about the morals of taste, and what we gain or lose by conferring judgment on other people’s choices. Well worth the read. (Here’s the Amazon link for reference. Please support your local bookstore!)