You know our love was meant to be🎵
The kind of love that lasts forever🎵🎸🎤
And I want you here with me🎵🎹
From tonight until the end of time🎼🎵🎶
You should know,🎵 everywhere I go🎶
You're always on my mind, in my heart, in my soul...😉
You're The Inspiration
Peter Cetera
#SaturdayNight
#PeterCetera
Los goles de Richard Núñez en Suiza, los de Chevantón en Italia y los de Carlos María Morales en México eran los clásicos de los domingos para los que fuimos niños en los 2000.
Y en este espacio titulado "Ustedes son muy chicos pero"
En el año 1984 Foreigner publicaba:
Want to Know What Love Is
Quiero saber lo que es el amor
El público se renueva o no
Some Songs Make You Remember a Place. “Sailing” Makes You Want to Leave.
Some songs pull you backward. They drop you into a kitchen, a car, a summer that already ended. “Sailing” does something quieter and stranger. It does not ask you to remember a place. It makes you want to leave the one you are in.
That is the first thing the record does, before any trivia about charts or awards. It puts you on water. Not dramatically. Not with crashing waves or a storm that needs to be survived. Just distance. A little wind. The feeling that land is still there, but no longer in charge of you. Christopher Cross does not hurry the listener. He does not try to lift the room. He slows the room down until the usual noise starts to feel optional.
Listen closely and the song barely insists on itself. The vocal sits far enough away that it never crowds you. The arrangement moves like something already underway, as if you boarded after the boat had left the dock. Soft rock often gets dismissed as background music. Here the background is the point. “Sailing” is less a performance than a climate. It gives you weather instead of a plot.
Which makes the second fact almost funny. A song that sounds as if it has nowhere to go once went all the way to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. It also collected the kind of Grammys reserved for records that are supposed to feel inevitable: Record of the Year, Song of the Year. The contrast is the interesting part. Ambition usually announces itself. This one hid inside ease. It became huge without ever sounding like it was chasing anyone.
That is why “sailing” works as more than a picture of boats and expensive calm. The sea in the song is a state of mind. You do not need to have stood on a deck to recognize it. It is the wish to step out of noise. To loosen the grip of whatever has been pulling you under. You do not even have to know the destination. The relief is in motion itself. Just going. Just not staying exactly where you were when the first chord arrived.
Only then does the decade come into focus. This is not the loud 1980s of neon and costume. It is the quieter face of that era: a radio left on, a window half open, a synthesizer that glows instead of shouts. The record belongs to yacht rock in the history books, but it survives because it offers shelter. Not nostalgia as a costume party. Nostalgia as a small, private exit.
That is the secret of “Sailing.” It never needed to be a monument. It only needed to remain a place you could slip into when the present felt too close. Some songs remind you where you have been. This one still offers a way out.