Introduction

“The Tremeloes – Silence Is Golden” is a musical masterpiece that has stood the test of time. Released in 1967, this iconic song has captured the hearts of music enthusiasts for generations. In this article, we delve into the history of this timeless track and explore the fascinating world of The Tremeloes, the talented band behind it.The Tremeloes - Wikipedia

Did You Know?

  • “Silence Is Golden” was originally written by Bob Gaudio and Bob Crewe of The Four Seasons, but it was The Tremeloes who turned it into a chart-topping hit.
  • The Tremeloes, formed in Dagenham, Essex, in the early 1960s, were part of the British Invasion music scene, alongside bands like The Beatles and The Rolling Stones.
  • This iconic song reached #1 on the UK Singles Chart and #11 on the US Billboard Hot 100, solidifying The Tremeloes’ place in music history.
  • The band underwent several lineup changes over the years, but “Silence Is Golden” remains one of their most celebrated achievements.

THE TREMELOES (UK) | SA Singles Charts

Video

Lyrics: Silence Is Golden

Oh, don’t it hurt deep inside
To see someone do something to her
Oh, don’t it pain to see someone cry
Oh, especially when someone is her

Silence is golden, but my eyes still see
Silence is golden, golden, but my eyes still see

Talking is cheap, people follow like sheep
Even though there is nowhere to go
How could she tell? He deceived her so well
Pity she’ll be the last one to know

Silence is golden, but my eyes still see
Silence is golden, golden, but my eyes still see

How many times did she fall for his lies?
Should I tell her or should I keep cool?
And if I tried I know she’ll say I lied
Mind your business, don’t hurt her, you fool

Silence is golden, but my eyes still see
Silence is golden, golden, but my eyes still see
But my eyes still see, but my eyes still see

 

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SHE HAD BEEN SINGING MOUNTAIN MUSIC SINCE BEFORE BLUEGRASS EVEN HAD A NAME. THEN, AT 80, WILMA LEE COOPER COLLAPSED ON THE OPRY STAGE WITH THE SONG STILL IN HER THROAT. Wilma Lee Cooper came out of Valley Head, West Virginia, where music was not something you studied in a conservatory. It was family. Church. Radio. Coal-country evenings. Her father worked in the mines. Her mother played pump organ. Wilma started singing when she was five, then sang with her family gospel group before she ever became part of country music history. She met Stoney Cooper in the early 1940s. He played fiddle. She sang and played guitar. Together they built a sound that sat between mountain gospel, old-time string band music, and the country music that had not yet decided how polished it wanted to become. They did not wait for genre labels. They drove. They broadcast. They played wherever people would listen. The roads were part of the act. Their daughter Carol Lee sometimes slept in the car under the upright bass while Wilma and Stoney went from show to show. They raised a family while keeping a band alive. They recorded songs like “Big Midnight Special,” “There’s a Big Wheel,” and “Wreck on the Highway.” By 1957, they had joined the Grand Ole Opry. The Smithsonian later called Wilma Lee the “First Lady of Bluegrass.” But that title came after decades of work. It came after she and Stoney had already spent years carrying the mountain sound through a country business that was moving toward smoother voices and cleaner suits. Then Stoney died in 1977. Wilma Lee did not leave with him. She stayed with the Opry. She kept leading the Clinch Mountain Clan. The old mountain voice remained onstage, older now but still carrying the same hard edge. She had already sung for more than sixty years by the time she walked onto the Ryman Auditorium stage on February 24, 2001. She was eighty. During that performance, Wilma Lee suffered a stroke. The career ended there. Not in a retirement announcement. Not in a farewell special. Onstage, in the place where she had kept the old sound alive for generations. The illness affected her speech and voice, and doctors doubted she would walk again. But Wilma Lee did return once more. In 2010, at the reopening of the Opry House after the Nashville flood, she came back for a group sing-along. Not to reclaim the old career. Not to prove anything. Just to stand in the room one more time and thank the people who had carried her. For most of her life, Wilma Lee Cooper sang as if the mountain had come down from West Virginia and entered the microphone. Her last great silence came on the same stage where she had spent decades refusing to let that mountain disappear.