A Resilient Anthem of Love’s Unshakable Bond
Step back with me, dear friends, to the warm glow of 1976, when Orleans released “Still the One”, a song that climbed to number 5 on the Billboard Hot 100, anchoring itself there as a late-summer staple from their album Waking and Dreaming, which peaked at number 30 on the Billboard 200. This wasn’t just a hit—it was a heartbeat, a promise set to music that wrapped around the souls of anyone who’d ever fought to hold love close through life’s twists and turns. For those of us who’ve watched the years stack like vinyl on a shelf, it’s a song that hums with the ache and triumph of devotion, pulling us back to a time when every chord felt like a vow we’d whisper again if we could.
The story of “Still the One” begins in the cozy chaos of Woodstock, New York, where Orleans, a soft-rock outfit born in ’72, found their stride. Written by the band’s John Hall and his then-wife Johanna Hall, it spilled out during a quiet moment in their Saugerties home—a riff John had been noodling on his Telecaster melded with Johanna’s lyrics, scribbled after a late-night chat about enduring love. Recorded at The Barn studio in early ’76 with producer Chuck Plotkin, the track captured the band at their peak—Larry Hoppen’s soaring vocals, Wells Kelly’s steady drums, and that infectious “ooh-ooh-ooh” hook weaving through like a thread of joy. Released in July as disco pulsed and punk loomed, it stood apart—a rootsy, sunlit declaration that love could weather any storm, a sentiment that later made it a TV jingle for ABC and a political football when Hall reclaimed it from GOP misuse.
What does “Still the One” mean, beneath its buoyant bounce? It’s a testament to love that lasts—not the fleeting kind, but the sort that digs in, weathered but unbowed. “We’re still having fun, and you’re still the one,” they sing, a line that’s less about perfection and more about persistence—the laughter shared over burnt dinners, the glances that say we made it after a hard day. For those of us who’ve walked life’s long road, it’s a mirror to our own stories: the partner who stayed, the promises kept, the quiet thrill of knowing someone’s still yours after all the chaos. It’s not naive—it’s earned, a song that nods to the fights and the reconciliations, the nights apart that only deepened the coming home.
Imagine it: a summer evening in ’76, the air thick with barbecue smoke, AM radio spilling from an open window as kids chase fireflies. Orleans, with their denim dreams and harmony-rich sound, gave us a piece of that world—a world before cell phones, when love was a letter mailed, a hand held tight on a porch swing. For older hearts, “Still the One” is a soft echo of those days, stirring images of bell-bottomed dances and long drives with the top down. It’s not just nostalgia—it’s the weight of memory, the warmth of a bond that time couldn’t fray. Play it now, let those guitars lift you, and feel the rush of a love that’s still—after all these years—the one you’d choose again in a heartbeat.