
The timeless ache of rediscovering an old flame.
The year was 1980, and the American film industry, in its infinite wisdom, gave us Roadie, a movie that, while largely forgotten, gifted the world a musical collaboration that would live on in the hearts of music lovers for decades. The film, starring the unlikely duo of rock icon Meat Loaf and an aging Art Carney, had a soundtrack that was truly something to behold. But it was track three, a tender, heart-wrenching duet titled “That Lovin’ You Feelin’ Again,” that would become a beacon of its time. Written by Roy Orbison himself, along with his longtime collaborator Chris Price, this song was not merely a part of a film soundtrack; it was a reunion of musical souls. It was Orbison’s glorious return to the spotlight, a voice of singular, breathtaking power joining forces with the ethereal, silvery tones of the incomparable Emmylou Harris.
This wasn’t just another song; it was a testament to the enduring power of classic country and rock and roll. On the charts, it made its mark with quiet, dignified authority. It reached the number 6 spot on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart in 1980, a testament to its crossover appeal and the respect both artists commanded. The duet also found its way to number 55 on the Billboard Hot 100, and an even more impressive number 10 on the Adult Contemporary chart, showing its broad reach. The true measure of its impact, however, came a year later when it was awarded a Grammy for Best Country Vocal Performance by a Duo or Group in 1981, solidifying its place in music history. It was a well-deserved accolade for a song that perfectly captured the feeling of being unexpectedly swept away by a wave of nostalgia and renewed affection for a love thought to be long gone.
The lyrics of “That Lovin’ You Feelin’ Again” are a masterclass in emotional honesty. They tell a simple, yet profoundly relatable story: the narrator sees an old love on the street and is instantly transported back in time. All the effort to move on, to forget, to build a new life, crumbles in an instant. “I started wanting you again,” Orbison’s iconic voice laments, a line so simple, yet so heavy with the weight of years and memories. Harris’s harmony, a perfect counterpoint, adds a layer of bittersweet longing, the kind that echoes in the quiet hours of the night. It’s a song about the ghost of a past love, a spectral presence that haunts you and reminds you that some feelings never truly die; they just lie dormant, waiting for the right moment to awaken. For older listeners, it’s a song that evokes a time when music was less about beats and more about stories, a time when a singer’s voice could convey a novel’s worth of emotion in a single phrase. It’s a memory of a time, a place, and a person you thought you’d left behind, but who, with a single glimpse, comes rushing back in a flood of unbidden emotion. This duet is a perfect encapsulation of that feeling, a beautiful, melancholy surrender to the inevitable power of the human heart.