Drunk-Dialing : The Light Comic Opera

We’ve blogged on occasion about the infamous drink and dial – that decision to call someone in the middle of the night and share with them the penetrating truths that have come to you after half a bottle of Jack Daniels and three keg stands. Who doesn’t enjoy getting a call at 3am from someone who is ready either to take you for an unwanted drunken stumble down nostalgia lane, or to tell you that they just figured out what went wrong in your relationship and, surprise, surprise, the blame does not lie with the lush making the call.

In our tome of drunken exploits, “The Man Who Scared a Shark To Death: And Other True Tales of Drunken Debauchery,” we chronicle the tale of quite possibly the oldest immature drunk dialer, a 52-year-old Danish man who was playing with his toy ships in the bath when he decided to phone the local sea rescue unit and inform them that one of his ships was in danger of capsizing. They actually sent rescue boats to look for the sinking ship... He had to pay a hefty fine for the lark. We also mention in the book Virgin Mobile Australia’s plan to combat drink dialing by allowing their users to ban all incoming calls from suspect drink-dialers between the hours of 12am-6pm. It’s a good plan.

As much as we’ve written about the drink-and-dial, and as many such calls as we’ve made, we have yet to put the phenomenon to a tune. (Editor’s Note: We are, however, working on a Jerky Boys-like album of crank calls in which we phone up bars that don’t serve food and get increasingly testy with them when they refuse to take our lunch orders. “Alright, ya goof, ya gotta pen? Ok, one pastrami on rye… What? What do you mean you don’t got food?” Recording companies interested in distributing this for us should email either of the authors directly via the contacts page.)

Ed Harcourt, an up-and-coming singer/songwriter (he’s the guy in the photo for those who thought he might be a drunk-dialer we're having trouble with), has found a novel way to get a persistent drunk-dialer off his back. Rather than subscribe to a service like the one mentioned above, he’s recorded, “You Only Call Me When You’re Drunk” (listen to full song here), which should not be confused with the Pet Shop Boys prequel to this song -- before the relationship completely deteriorated -- “You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You’re Drunk,” (or their ode to that uncle who's a little too hands-on for comfort during the holidays, “Your Funny Uncle”).

Harcourt’s been getting some calls from a “deplorable old friend, somewhere in the East end,” and the song is his gentle request for his buddy to screw off and let him get a good night’s sleep because he has work in the morning and his buddy may or may not live in the park. One wonders if Harcourt hasn’t placed a few of these wee-small-hours-of-the-morning calls himself; he writes like someone who knows the challenges: "I guess you have me on speed-dial/for your eyesight is too blurred, to text me any words.”

The song starts off slow and in the kind of mood you'd be in if you picked up the phone while still half-asleep and confused as to who the hell could be calling at such a godforsaken hour, then it picks up in pitch and ferocity and takes on a more operatic quality. This is one call too many and it's time he sobers his buddy up with some home truths. They used to be close friends, cursing the local rich boys and committing acts of costly, albeit righteous, vandalism -- "As dreamers we'd scream all the songs/we'd known all our lives off the roofs of the city bankers/ break in the windows, burn all the documents/Rich daddy's boys!" -- now though his buddy has become an energy drain, a nuisance who is more trouble than the nostalgia is worth. Like many drunk-dialers he's gripped by the wanderlust and when the bars are closed, he picks up the phone to continue the adventure, "You only call me when you're drunk/Cursing down the phone, you can't stand being alone."

But for the guy who has yet to sever all connections to civilized society, it's time to hang up. He tells him, "Give all your sadness a last embrace/Turn up sober at my place, we'll talk about it face to face." And that's one call the drunken friend is unlikely to make.