The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

Guy Mitchell – Heartaches by the Number

About the Song

Guy Mitchell’s 1959 hit, “Heartaches by the Number,” is a poignant ballad that paints a vivid picture of unrequited love and enduring devotion. Written by the legendary country songwriter Harlan Howard, the song became a popular crossover hit, resonating with audiences across genres with its relatable lyrics and heartfelt delivery.

The song opens with a simple yet impactful statement: “Heartaches by the number, troubles by the score.” This line immediately sets the stage for a narrative of emotional pain and unfulfilled desires. Mitchell’s smooth vocals, imbued with a touch of melancholy, perfectly convey the protagonist’s heartache.

The lyrics that follow detail a series of disappointments, each adding to the protagonist’s emotional burden:

“First heartache, when you left me Second heartache, you came back but never meant to stay Third heartache, when you called me and said you were coming back to stay I waited for your knock on the door, but you lost your way.”

Each verse delves deeper into the cycle of hope and disappointment, highlighting the protagonist’s unwavering affection despite repeated heartbreak. The repeated chorus, “Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number, a love that I can’t win,” becomes a powerful refrain, emphasizing the seemingly insurmountable nature of the protagonist’s unrequited love.

Despite the overwhelming sadness, the song also hints at a glimmer of hope. The line, “But the day that I stop counting, that’s the day my world would end,” suggests that even in the midst of pain, the protagonist’s love remains strong and unwavering.

Musically, “Heartaches by the Number” is a classic example of 1950s pop music. The gentle melody, accompanied by soft strings and a steady rhythm, creates a melancholic atmosphere that perfectly complements the emotional lyrics. Mitchell’s smooth and controlled vocals further enhance the song’s emotional depth, leaving a lasting impression on the listener.

“Heartaches by the Number” has transcended its time, becoming a timeless classic in the world of country and pop music. Its enduring popularity speaks to the universality of unrequited love and the resilience of the human spirit, making it a song that continues to resonate with listeners of all generations.

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Lyrics: Heartaches by the Number

Heartaches by the number, troubles by the score
Everyday you love me less, each day I love you more
Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number, a love that I can’t win
But the day that I stop counting, that’s the day my world will endHeartache number one was when you left me
I never knew that I could hurt this way
And heartache number two was when you came back again
You came back but never meant to stay

Yes, I’ve got
Heartaches by the number, troubles by the score
Everyday you love me less, each day I love you more
Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number, a love that I can’t win
But the day that I stop counting, that’s the day my world will end

Heartache number three was when you called me
And said that you were coming back to stay
With hopeful heart I waited for your knock on the door
I waited, but you must have lost your way

Yes, I’ve got
Heartaches by the number, troubles by the score
Everyday you love me less, each day I love you more
Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number, a love that I can’t win
But the day that I stop counting, that’s the day my world will end

 

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Oldies Musics

Tucked away in a private drawer, far from the polished sets of her television show, lay a bundle of 341 letters. These were not press clippings or scripts; they were brittle, handwritten testimonies from servicemen stationed in remote barracks, deep in war-torn tunnels, and across desolate battlefields. During the long years of the Second World War, as Hollywood presented a glossy, curated image of American life, Donna Reed spent her nights reading these letters and, more remarkably, personally answering them. This was the quiet, invisible work that defined her, long before the public labeled her the quintessential television mother. Behind the camera during her production years, Reed was a different person entirely. She was rarely seen holding a script for a scene; she was more likely to be found hunched over lighting diagrams or studying the intricacies of cinematography. She possessed an uncredited producer’s mind, constantly analyzing how the frame could better reflect the reality of the family she was trying to depict. The studio environment was frequently cold and high-pressured, but she moved through it with a meticulous attention to detail that frustrated those who wanted to treat her as merely another pretty face in the cast. These tactile remnants—the stacks of ink-stained paper and the forgotten notes on camera angles—tell the story of a woman who never truly fit the box Hollywood built for her. While the world remembers the steady, comforting image of a television home, she lived a life carved out of hard labor and deep empathy. She carried the weight of those soldiers’ stories and the technical burdens of the studio floor until her final days, forever balancing the fragility of her public image against the demanding, gritty reality of her actual life.