Making Believe: The Timeless Tale of a Love That Never Was
The yearning for what can never be, the quiet agony of loving someone who is forever out of reach, is a story as old as time itself. And few have ever captured that profound sadness with such a devastatingly beautiful touch as Emmylou Harris did with her iconic rendition of “Making Believe.” This is a song that doesn’t scream its pain; it whispers it, like a ghost sighing through the halls of a forgotten memory. Originally a hit for the great Kitty Wells in 1955, and penned by Jimmy Work, this classic was reborn in the hands of Harris in 1977. She included it on her stellar album, Luxury Liner, a record that solidified her place as a true country-rock luminary. While the album itself soared to number one on the country charts, it was the singles that truly captured the public’s heart. “Making Believe” climbed to a respectable #8 on the Billboard Country charts, a testament to the fact that its aching, melancholic melody still resonated with audiences decades after its first release.
Remember those quiet moments of reflection? Maybe it was a late night, the streetlights outside casting long shadows across your living room, the glow of the turntable the only light in the room. The crackle of the needle, the soft hiss, and then that voice… that singular, crystalline voice of Emmylou Harris would fill the space. She wasn’t just singing words; she was pouring out her soul, embodying the heartache of a love that existed only in the mind. The lyrics, so simple yet so powerful, speak to a universal truth: the pain of a love that is unrequited, or perhaps, a love that was lost and can never be regained. The song’s protagonist is trapped in a beautiful, painful fantasy. She can’t hold her beloved close, because “you’re somebody’s love, you’ll never be mine.” The world she lives in is a dream world, a fragile construct of her own making, where she can pretend that everything is as it should be. It’s a powerful metaphor for anyone who has ever held on to a shred of hope long after it should have been let go.
The production on Harris’s version is masterful in its restraint, a perfect example of the “hot-country” sound she and producer Brian Ahern perfected. The steel guitar moans like a lost soul, the gentle rhythm section providing a steady, heartbreaking pulse. Every note, every instrument, serves the song, never overwhelming Harris’s breathtaking vocal performance. Her voice, with its delicate vibrato and raw, emotional honesty, makes you feel every bit of that desolation. This wasn’t a showy performance; it was a deeply personal and intimate one. She was an interpreter of songs, a musical medium who could take a decades-old tune and make it feel like she wrote it just yesterday, sitting at her kitchen table with a broken heart.
Decades have passed since Luxury Liner first spun on our record players, but the sentiment of “Making Believe” remains as potent as ever. It is a timeless piece of art that speaks to the enduring pain of unfulfilled love. It’s a song for anyone who has ever had to pick up the pieces of their heart and carry on, all the while knowing that a part of them will always be living in a world of make-believe.