Remember When (Remastered 2017), The Platters - Qobuz

Introduction:

“Remember When” by The Platters is a nostalgic love ballad released in 1959. Written by the group’s manager and prolific songwriter Buck Ram alongside Mickey Addy, the song reflects on cherished memories of early romance and enduring affection. It was part of the album Remember When?, released under Mercury Records, showcasing The Platters’ signature blend of doo-wop, R&B, and pop sounds.

The lyrics paint a tender picture of a couple reminiscing about the early stages of their relationship, expressing how those moments laid the foundation for a lasting love. The protagonist recalls the joy and nervous excitement of realizing their feelings were mutual, affirming that their love remains as strong as ever despite life’s challenges.

The Platters were renowned for their harmonious melodies and emotional delivery, and “Remember When” exemplifies these qualities. At the time, they were a groundbreaking group, bridging traditional pop and emerging rock-and-roll styles, and becoming one of the first Black acts to achieve widespread international success. Songs like “Remember When” cemented their reputation as musical pioneers, contributing to a rich catalog that resonated across generations.

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“He didn’t disappear. He just took the long road into the sky.” Only days after Merle Haggard was laid to rest, the silence at the Shasta County ranch felt almost unbearable, as if the land itself was holding its breath. The barn that had once pulsed with late-night chords and laughter stood still, dust floating in the pale light. Ben, Noel, and Marty stepped inside together, none of them quite ready, yet unable to stay away. The guitars were still there, exactly where their father had left them, as if he might walk back in at any moment. “Play something he’d recognize,” someone murmured, barely louder than the wind outside. For a long second, no one moved. Then Ben lifted the weathered Martin guitar — the one etched with years of calloused fingers and restless nights. The first notes of “Silver Wings” rang out, fragile but clear. Noel’s voice joined, then Marty’s. It wasn’t polished, it wasn’t perfect — but it was real, trembling with memory. And as they reached the line, “don’t leave me, I cry…”, the words seemed to hang in the air, heavier than ever before. People in the room felt it at the same time: this wasn’t just a song anymore. It was a bridge, a way of reaching someone just beyond sight. When the final chord faded into the rafters, Ben looked down at the guitar and spoke quietly, his voice breaking, “He didn’t disappear… he just took the long road into the sky.” From that night forward, every time the Haggard boys sang “Silver Wings,” it wasn’t a performance, and it wasn’t even a tribute. It was the closest thing they had to hearing their father answer back.