“Ariel” (Dean Friedman)

Today’s long-lost ode to a young Jewish girl from Paramus, New Jersey song of the day is “Ariel,” by Dean Friedman. This little slice of history was released in April of 1977 and rose all the way to #26 on the Billboard Hot 100. (And it ties into yesterday’s classic song of the day, “American City Suite,” in that “Ariel” was produced by the guys who wrote that one, Terry Cashman and Tommy West.)

What I love about “Ariel” is how clearly it evokes a time, place, and type of person. For those of us of a certain age in 1977, this song perfectly encapsulates how things and people were. It’s like stepping into a time machine.

First, the time. The mid-to-late ’70s were years like no others. Young people hung out at the mall, listened to the radio, and watched TV until the station signed off after midnight. Love was casual and fleeting, and all of us young folks had causes of one sort or another that we supported, even if just for a few weeks.

As for the place, “Ariel” is clearly set in Paramus, New Jersey but it could be deep in the bosom of any suburb in America. Every suburb had Dairy Queens and American Legion Halls and the aforementioned malls; in my particular central Indiana suburb we hung out at the Noble Roman’s pizza joint, Karma Records, and Lafayette Square Mall, but it’s all pretty much the same thing.

As to the people, the protagonist of Friedman’s song—we can assume it was the writer himself, so let’s call him Dean—was a budding musician but not a successful one; after all, he was playing benefit shows at the local American Legion Hall, which is far short of the big time. He drove a VW van and apparently picked up young girls he met at the mall. He was the kind of guy who took a girl to Dairy Queen on their first date and asked her to come listen to his band when they played. I knew him because I kind of was him back then, as were a lot of my friends.

Then there was Ariel. She was a young Jewish girl, a vegetarian, who listened to radio station WBAI (a listener-supported, counterculture-friendly FM station), wore peasant shirts with no bra underneath, and hooked up with scroungy musician types. I knew her, or at least girls like her. They were typically of shortish stature with either short curly or long straight hair and wore those ubiquitous peasant blouses with no bra underneath, faded bell bottoms, and sandals. Borrowing imagery from another song of that era, they often smelled of incense and patchouli and their eyes really did shine like the moon in the sea.

Those girls, whatever their hairstyle, were always cute, smart, snappy, and a little crazy, in a late hippie-era kind of way. While the girls in Indiana were seldom Jewish and not always vegetarian (although they often were), and not a single one was named Ariel, they were of a type that was specific to that era. You couldn’t help but fall in love with them, at least for a little while, just as Dean did with Ariel in the song. They’d smile and you’d melt all over the floor. It didn’t take any more than that. And, yeah, you’d go back to your place, make out on the couch, get the munchies, and watch old movies on TV until the station signed off with the Star Spangled Banner and bombs bursting in air. All that really happened.

What Dean Friedman does brilliantly in this song is capture that era, that place, and those people in a way that takes you back to the summer of 1977, just like it was. He does it so economically and so effortlessly you don’t even notice the craft. It’s all a matter of choosing just the right everyday details to include. As one critic noted, Friedman’s “Ariel” is “the missing link between The Four Seasons and Fountains of Wayne” in the way it details life in New Jersey at a certain point in time.

Take these lines:

I called her up, I was all out of breath
I said, “Come hear me play in my rock and roll band”
I took a shower and I put on my best blue jeans

I picked her up in my new VW van
She wore a peasant blouse with nothing underneath
I said “Hi”, she said, “Yeah, I guess I am”

The accompanying music is nothing special, at least the verses. The melody follows the rather simple chord progression, which is all it needs to do; there are a lot of words to get in. But then you get to the chorus—and what a chorus it is! The song really takes off with the single word “Ariel,” repeated over and over in layered harmony. It’s bombastic, it’s angelic, it’s almost orgasmic in the way it soars and builds and expresses the writer’s feelings for the young Ariel. It is a glorious moment in pop music that just can’t be topped.

I love this song, in case you can’t tell. It takes me back to a time and place that simply don’t exist anymore. I long for those long-ago summers, driving around on warm summer nights, flirting with long-haired girls in peasant blouses, bell bottom jeans, and sandals, eating chili dogs and onion rings at the DQ, and playing bad gigs until 2 in the morning. When I listen to “Ariel” I’m taken back to those times. Thank you, Dean Friedman, for that.

(For an insanely detailed analysis of “Ariel,” check out this article by music critic Tim Sommer. He knows a more about Paramus, New Jersey, than I do.)

“Ariel” was Dean Friedman’s only hit in the U.S., although he had a little more success overseas with “Lucky Stars” and “McDonalds Girl” charting in the UK in 1978 and 1982, respectively. He also wrote soundtracks for a few TV shows (including Boon and Eerie, Indiana), authored a few music tech books in the ’80s, and even got into videogame design. Even better, he’s still out there playing and recording music today, aged 67—”Tears On My Pillow” and “Ave Maria.”