I Listened to Night Ranger's “Sentimental Street” On Repeat For An Hour
When the blog inspiration well runs dry, time to fall back on the ol' standby of listening to a song on repeat and furiously typing stream-of-consciousness thoughts in real-time. Lord help us all.
I started working on three blog posts this month. I scrapped two of them because they were basically nothing but pissing and moaning about topics I have no solutions to. In hopping between the two posts (plus another that's still on the docket, but I haven't had time to fine-tune given my self-imposed "fart out at least one blog post per month" mandate), I lost steam. And quite frankly, Dear Reader, you deserve better than half-assed slop. (Thank you for sticking around!)
That's where this post comes in. Whenever I'm strapped for an idea, I fall back on the ol' standby of listening to a single song on repeat for a full hour and typing my thoughts in real time. Previously, Dear Reader, I've subjected you to mad musings while listening to "Bad Medicine" by Bon Jovi, ska-sponsored existentialism with "The Impression That I Get" by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Vin Diesel's ode to being an awkward penguin at the club with pandemic banger "Feel Like I Do", and Chris Brown's treatise on the fickle nature of hoes in "Loyal."
The song at the heart of this hour-long listen is no stranger to this blog. Back in 2011, it was the subject of a hotly-contested debate about acceptable workout music, with both my brother and I staunchly defending its iron-pumping honor. As your humble pop culture archaeologist, this time I'm unearthing Night Ranger's 1985 chart topper, "Sentimental Street." It's not quite a power ballad, but not (using a cliched phrase from every issue of RIP, Metal Edge, and Circus magazine I'd ever read) a "driving rocker," either. Nevertheless, it's a forgotten gem that bears repeat listens.
You Know the Rules (And So Do I)
Much like how I berate myself to knock out one blog post per month, I also impose rules on this type of blog post:
There are no breaks in the action. It's full-on immersion with a single song for an entire hour. Once you hit play, there's no turning back!
That includes no bathroom breaks. Dam it up until the hour is over.
Snacks are permitted, but present their own peril. High fiber snacks come with high stakes -- prompting the possibility of having to take a dump during the hour, which is also verboten.
You can dance if you want to. (You can leave your friends behind.)
Post-production notes can be added afterwards. Writing in real-time often prompts thoughts that need to be explored later or that require more digging in order to present something of substance for readers beyond the equivalent of giving them a front row seat to my slow descent into madness and writing on the walls with my own poop like a far less freaky Marquis DeSade.
Listening to "Sentimental Street"
I have a fondness for '80s hard rock and metal. While I've always enjoyed "Sentimental Street" by Night Ranger, I'd noticed it cropping up in several of my suggested Spotify playlists. With summer just around the bend and lazy golden-hued days on the horizon, there's no better time to take a stroll down the abandoned sidewalks of Sentimental Street. At 4 minutes and 11 seconds long, that puts me on track to listen to this one 15 times on repeat. Let's get down to it!
1st Listen
That tinkling piano sounds pretty damn sentimental.
Aww shit. Now we're starting to build up. And lead singer/drummer Kelly Keagy¹ is pissed.
¹ Post-production footnote #1: Although co-lead vocalist/bassist Jack Blades wrote "Sentimental Street" and features heavily as singing in the video, his fellow lead vocalist/drummer Kelly Keagy actually tackles lead vocals on this song. (Side note to a side note: Keagy also performs lead vocal duties on Night Ranger's best-known hit, "Sister Christian.") Singing drummers are a bit of a rarity, with Keagy joining the ranks of such luminaries as Phil Collins in his Genesis years, Peter Criss of KISS, and El Duce of The Mentors.
This street isn't just sentimental. It's bitter.
Okay... Second verse. He's calmed down a bit. This is very much a slice-of-life recounting of a blossoming relationship that suddenly went down the tubes.
Yep. We're back to bitter. And maybe a little sad.
Nope. Back to bitter: "You're having too much fun when you're selling romance." That might be the most poetic way ever to call someone a ho.
Ah. Now we're on apathy right before the guitar solo. "Guess I'll leave it up to you."
There's a surprising amount of emotional range tucked into this not-quite power ballad.
2nd Listen
Round 2: FIGHT!!!! I'm hearing the growly Mortal Kombat voice over the piano intro.
Come to think of it, "Sentimental Street" is akin to a one-sided lover's spat. It's the Mortal Kombat of failed relationship inner monologues where you throw every verbal sai, frozen ice shard, and projectile grappling hook at an ex you still have feelings for.
Great. Now I'm thinking of Liu Kang vs. Baraka while Kelly Keagy is spilling his metaphorical (not physical) guts about a Sunset Strip relationship fatality.
What if one of the backgrounds to Mortal Kombat wasn't The Soul Pits, but rather, the Sunset Strip?² Would a Kombatant's fatality involve eviscerating someone -- potentially an ex's new paramour -- and sending their carcass sailing over several patrons before landing on top of a table where some chick was getting down to business underneath, giving a denim-clad dude a blowie? The words "Fatality" would appear on screen and the Kombatant would chomp on a slice of famed Rainbow pizza.
² Post-production footnote #2: Night Ranger is originally from San Francisco. I made a sweeping hair metal generalization here, assuming Sentimental Street is located on West Hollywood's Sunset Strip, the hub of activity for most '80s rock action. I'm no geography major, but it's close enough. They're both in California, right?
3rd Listen
Okay. We're shaking the cobwebs and blowing the dust back onto that Super Nintendo cartridge. We're firmly back in Night Ranger-ville, gassing up the Chevette and cruising down "Sentimental Street."
"I recognized the flair / That you got from chasing / All those East coast stares." Oh. So, this chick is trying to be bougie? I'm guessing he means more of the coastal parts of the East Coast -- The Hamptons. Martha's Vineyard. Washington, D.C. -- aka "Hollywood for ugly people."
I want to sit this guy³ down and say, "Buddy, I think you dodged a bullet. She's kind of an attention whore. Sure, she might have an ass tighter than the seal on a refrigerator door, but personality-wise, this broad doesn't exactly sound like long haul relationship material."
³ Post-production footnote #3: "This guy" being either Kelly Keagy since he's emoting heavily on the vocals or Jack Blades who wrote the song. Maybe I'm talking to both of them?! Who the hell knows at this point!
4th Listen
Honestly, that bass, drum, and keys in the intro is low-key genius. The repeated "dun-DUN" all but signals you're walking into a treatise on doomed relationships. It's like a musical red alert not unlike walking into a PTA meeting and smelling "divorced dad" wafting off of the guy with the too-tight polo shirt blasting his nips at every mom in the room not wearing a wedding band.
5th Listen
Tuning out the lyrics for a moment and focusing on the musicality of the song on this turn, you can really feel those piano chords and drums -- that heavy kick -- on the verse. The slow build to the chorus. Some really nice piano chord fills before the crunch of the guitar kicks in.
The chorus has some really solid vocal harmonies, too.
Nice guitar solo. I think that was one of the best things about '80s power ballads: you could hum the guitar solos. At least the good ones. There was less musical masturbation and squiddly-noodly guitar wanking on power ballad solos. They were often more melodic, opting for a few well-chosen notes with sustain that thoughtfully complemented a song.
6th Listen
Here we go. Round 6. I notice Kelly Keagy sounds a lot less pissed the more I listen.
I imagine that's how a good ol' fashioned emotional vomit session comes across. In the moment, it all sounds heated and angry. Tempers flare. Tensions are high. Feelings become raw nerves and any phrase uttered feels far more pointed than intended. No, no one gets called a slag, trollop, or tawdry mange muff -- but it sure feels very harsh and accusatory in the moment.
Then -- maybe minutes, days or years later -- when you step back a bit, you realize that there's a thread of sadness behind every cutting barb. It's not as angry as it seemed in the moment because both parties are clicked into Defensive Mode.
And yet, all those good times and sentimental moments get chucked out a window like Frank Nitti in The Untouchables, crashing through the hood of a car.
Damn. How's that for a moment of clarity?
7th Listen
"You did those same two steps that I taught you back in June."
That line evokes some intriguing imagery. You can imagine this sweet young couple at a club. She's seemingly doe-eyed and innocent. She barely knows anyone in town -- and knows even fewer dance steps.
Along comes Acid Washed Prince Charming who valiantly teaches her a few moves so she can fit in and live her best dance floor life.
Flickers of a romance flash between the verses. Fast-forward to the (then) present and she's doing those same two steps he taught her months ago. The memory remains. She still remembers him. But she's out there shaking her ass with someone else.
Tough break, bub.
8th Listen
"Heard you dined last night at Conte Razor's Cafe. Did you get your fill? Did you think you'd have to pay?"
It's the most innocuous-yet-scathing line.
"Conte Razor's Cafe." The name is both edgy and hoity-toity. ** high pitched squeal ** Ooooh! A cafe'! Craig's taking me to a CAFE' tonight! What should I wear?!"
This was the '80s. There weren't no stinkin' cafes. Or bistros. Or gluten-free French fusion taquerias. No, no, mon amour! Those were for the Izod-wearing yuppies, not working class schmoes on the Strip.
Damn. This chick just sold out a guy sweet enough to teach her a few dance steps while rocking the tightest of tight jeans for a plate of shitty foie gras.
I'd be bitter, too.
Then again, maybe he isn't that bitter, all things considered.
9th Listen
Damn. I'm over the halfway point. I had no idea I'd be sitting down for an hour to listen to "Sentimental Street" on repeat for a solid hour, but I'll say it's kismet that I'd limited my water intake today. Usually, by this stage of the song-listening game, I'm holding back a fire hydrant's worth of wee. Thankfully, "Sentimental Street" isn't going to get flooded. Hallelujah!
I'm really fixated on this entire second verse part. "I recognized the pain / And I'm sure it's the same / You'll feel again and again."
That's a really nice way of saying, "You'll never find anyone like me again. Yeah. I know that look of pain on your face when I see you squired about town by Douchebag Du Jour. These guys are using you. And you'll repeat this pattern until you find yourself." It's a far sweeter, White Knight version of the same sentiments expressed in The Mentor's "Shocked and Grossed" where El Duce runs into his ex who's riddled with track marks and herpes pustules she caught from banging a bunch of crusty old tweakers.
10th Listen
"I know what you're thinking / I've been there myself / I've been kicked so many times / I don't know nothin' else."
Apart from the grammatical double negative in that line, this song is a clarion call not just to a former lover, but to everyone else who has felt a swift boot to the heart. (Metaphorically speaking. We're not heading back to Mortal Kombat territory.)
That's quite profound, really. When you find yourself beaten by life or (in the words of that romantic bard Velvet Jones) "Kicked in the Butt by Love," it almost becomes second nature to find yourself drawn into a pattern of relationships that end badly.
And yet, this dude is putting it out there. "I've been there myself." Like it's a support group that meets in the basement of a club on "Sentimental Street."
I hope there's free donuts.
11th Listen
Shit. I think I spoke too soon. While my bladder isn't exactly pulsing with the backbeat of this song, I'm starting to feel a slight bit of pressure. I glance at the corner of my desk and see that the 33.8 oz. bottle of water I've been nursing is almost empty.
"Take it easy on the Pepsi, Fuller."
I really love the home stretch of this song. The harmonies and subtle shift in pitch and tempo is a great way to close out the song just before the fade-out. There's just a smidge more urgency in his delivery: "Saw you walkin' out there out on Sentimental Street / Whatcha doin' out there? / Who you tryin' to be?"
If ever a power ballad deserved to be resurrected, this one's it.
12th Listen
I think I've all but exorcised my sonic demons on the 11 subsequent listens of this song. I'm just going to sit back and get swept up in the narrative.
The piano on that second verse -- Jesus Christ, Cooper! Calm the fuck down with this second verse already! We fucking get it! You like this part of the song. Give it a rest, toots! -- really complements the lyrics nicely. It's such a subtle undercurrent that keeps things mellow while the story unfolds
Simple. Uncomplicated.
Not too much guitar. No riffing bravado. Just some soft keys. It's a really nice choice.
13th Listen
It's only taken me 13 listens to hone in on the musical parallels between this song and Night Ranger's best-known hit, "Sister Christian," recognized for its chorus of "Motorin'!" I can't help but think of Alfred Molina in Boogie Nights, rocked off his ass on booger sugar and absolutely losing his shit while belting out the chorus.
I wonder how that character would feel about "Sentimental Street"? Both songs are similarly structured. They start slow, luring the listener in with piano and building to a rousing crescendo. Thematically, both songs are about a loss of a young woman's innocence, narrated by a benevolent figure cautioning about the dangers of giving away your heart and poon.
14th Listen
Having noticed that common theme, I'm mentally flipping through other tracks in the Night Ranger catalog: "Goodbye." "When You Close Your Eyes." "Four in the Morning." (Another sorely underrated song!) Lots of songs about missing someone.
Now I'm pondering what a "Night Ranger" is. Is it one part Knight in Shining Armor (or shredded denim) and one part Last Call Lothario?
I don't know what a Sleep Token is, either. But I think I'd rather be a Night Ranger than a Sleep Token at a metaphysical metal Chuck E. Cheese. (What prizes do you win in the arcade when you pony up a Sleep Token?)
15th Listen
My brain is starting to crack under the weight of doing 15 laps around the block on "Sentimental Street."
Not that I haven't enjoyed this. I think out of all of the songs I've subjected myself to for a solid hour on repeat, this might have been the most pleasant of all. And I'm not just saying that because, unlike other times, I don't have to piss like a camel. This little jaunt has given me even greater appreciation for Night Ranger.
"Take a good hard look / There ain't nuthin' ever new." Yes, there may be more double negatives in that statement. But there's a lot of hard-won wisdom in those lines, too. Do we ever really change?
I think what I like best about Verse 1 (Don't worry. I'll say it myself: Thank God this bitch stopped raving about Verse 2!) is that there isn't an abundance of filler notes. There are just a few sustained chords and strong beats that serve as punctuation between lyrics.
A good song gives you that breathing room to soak it all in. Sometimes, you don't need a flurry of notes to tell you a story. Gradual musical fills can help tell the story just as much as the lyrics unfold a tale. And when those two components work together, it creates a song that's a joy to listen to -- whether that's listening to it just once or playing it on a loop 15 times in a row because you're a glutton for self-experimentation.
Photo by Nicole Avagliano