There’s Only One Song I Know: Sparks’ “When Do I Get To Sing ‘My Way’” (Singled Out)

As I plowed through Sparks’ discography the last few months, one of the albums I loved the most yet said the least about was Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins. When a song or album doesn’t work it can be easy to figure out and expound on why, or, at least, easier than trying to pinpoint what makes a great song or album great. There isn’t one set thing that guarantees a piece will be great music, but when you hear greatness, you know it. But I also hate how vague that explanation sounds. Perhaps a better way to explain what I mean is with James Joyce’s concept of aesthetic arrest; the idea is that when all parts of a piece of art work harmoniously the work will have a certain radiance, a glow that will transfix and, well, dumbfound the observer. Basically, in the presence of such enchanting beauty we can only sit in awe – and that’s how I feel about Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins. It’s not perfect album, by any stretch, but man, is it exquisite and for me the song the most embodies that is “When Do I Get To Sing ‘My Way.’”

Before diving into Sparks’ song it’s key to dig into “My Way” first. Paul Anka wrote the lyrics while much of the music and melody came from Claude François’ “Comme d'habitude.” At its core “My Way” is a song of triumph, the triumphant swan song of someone who knows without any doubt they kicked life’s ass. They did all they wanted and any regrets pale in the knowledge that even their regrets belong to them. Every action and word was their choice and “not the words of one who kneels.” Anka wrote the song specifically with Frank Sinatra in mind, at times trying to imitate the way Sinatra spoke, and well, no one would ever call the Chairman of the Board a pushover – at least not to his face.

In stark contrast, “When Do I Get To Sing ‘My Way’” drips in regret and desperation after the life of “one who kneels.” Sparks’ narrator has gone through the motions in the hope that attaining all they were told to want would eventually be worth it when, in the end, all they got was a life of screams and “flying plates and shoes.” Unlike Anka’s narrator who blazes their own trail, this narrator decides to “be gracious and wait in the queue.” They put themselves aside to wait their turn, but it never comes. Furthermore, they’re so resigned to a life of passivity that asserting their individuality isn’t a viable option. The song opens with, “No, no use in lecturing them or in threatening them they will just say, ‘Who are you?’ Is that a question or not when you see that the plot is predictable not new?” These lines not only indicate a fear of seemingly inevitable dismissal, but also the fact that the narrator may not even know the answer. This loss of self proves the narrator of “My Way” right when they say, “What is a man? What has he got? If not himself then he has naught.” By far the biggest regret expressed by Sparks’ narrator is the lack of self-assured nature exemplified by a figure like Sinatra; “When do I get to feel like Sinatra felt?”

Over the years so many artists have covered “My Way” that it ranks near the Beatles’ “Yesterday” as one of the most covered of all time. However, of all those covers only one is mentioned in “When Do I Get To Sing ‘My Way,’” that of Sid Vicious. Not only does genre change make the Vicious version notable, but also the fact that he changed the lyrics. He made it his own and spat in the face of pop traditionalists with every sloppy, sneering “fuck” as he did it. While the narrator of “When Do I Get To Sing ‘My Way’” may question tradition to an extent, they certainly don’t do anything to rock the boat. “It’s a tradition, they say, like a bright Christmas day and tradition must go on.  And though I say ‘yes I see,’ no, I really don’t see. Is my smiley face still on?” They engage with the tradition, but not out of genuine attachment or belief in its importance. Those bright Christmas days mean about as much to the narrator as Sinatra appears to have meant to Sid Vicious – not at all. The only difference is that Vicious had no qualms about making his disregard apparent to all, while Sparks’ narrator keeps on a fake smile and secretly envies him. Of course, in reality Vicious is no one to envy; as with Frank Sinatra, the envy is not about the real man, but what he represents – rebellion. The second verse ends with the line, “Sign your name with an X, mow the lawn.” Earlier I noted the narrator’s passivity and loss of self, which run so deeply the narrator can’t even muster up the desire to write their own name before quickly going back to their routine. They may envy rebellion in others, but they have never and can never engage in it.

Sparks have performed an orchestral version of “When Do I Get To Sing ‘My Way’” and though it is very beautiful, I think the original has a desperation to it that gets lost in the rearrangement. (Of course, I’ve always had an affinity for dancing away bleakness and angst with a thumping beat so perhaps that has something to do with it.) The narrator’s desperation really crystallizes in the contrasts between the bridge and the final verse. The bridge feels like dream sequence wherein the narrator fantasizes of the life they want, one where “women seduce me and champagne flows.” Only for reality to come crashing back in during the final verse where they remember they “have no souvenirs of these crackerjack years, not a moment I could choose and not one offer that I could refuse.” They have no good old days to look back on and no bright future to look toward. They don’t even care if they end up “in heaven or hell.” They just have a vain hope that maybe there is a chance that they could turn things around and finally get somewhere on their own terms. Erase their regrets.

But they won’t.

“The plot is predictable.”