By Maki
The Sound of the Clock: Deadlines and Ultimatums in Song
There’s a moment each day when time stops being abstract and starts to feel personal — the alarm goes off, the clock face becomes a threat, and suddenly you’re late. Richie Havens kicks things off right there, with Alarm Clock, a song that treats waking as both a revelation and a reckoning. For Havens, the day’s first sound isn’t just a summons to consciousness; it’s a call to act before life passes you by. Every second is an ultimatum.
That sense of running behind continues with the Everly Brothers’ Wake Up Little Susie. Here, time is social — not cosmic — but just as unforgiving. The lovers’ oversleeping becomes scandalous; dawn isn’t a renewal, it’s exposure. In two minutes of perfect 1950s harmony, the Everlys capture the panic of missed curfews and reputations on the line. The morning can be merciless.
By the time we reach The Monkees’ Last Train to Clarksville, the deadline has turned into departure. The clock has moved from bedroom to station platform; the ultimatum now comes with a ticket. The Monkees’ jangly guitars disguise a song about leaving too soon — or being left behind. It’s the sound of someone sprinting toward love and war at once.
Deadlines don’t only chase individuals; they define entire ways of working. The Grateful Dead’s Cumberland Blues turns the pressure of time into a labourer’s lament. The clock here isn’t mechanical but human — the boss’s watch, the day’s shift, the cycle of toil. Jerry Garcia and company make a groove out of exhaustion, a banjo-driven race against the inevitable whistle blow.
Then comes Echo & The Bunnymen’s Never Stop, an anthem for those who can’t. The band’s pulse suggests that stopping isn’t an option; rest equals regression. Time is now a treadmill. The eighties synths and taut rhythms echo a world that’s industrial, emotional, and perpetually late for something undefined.
Madonna, in 4 Minutes, raises the stakes to planetary scale. The beat, powered by Timbaland and Justin Timberlake, feels like a countdown — a dancefloor apocalypse. If the Everlys worried about being caught after curfew, Madonna warns of running out of world. Her ultimatum: save yourself, save us all, and do it fast.
That urgency fades into the weary realism of reggae. Gregory Isaacs’ Curfew and Willie Williams’ Armagideon Time remind us that time is also political. The curfew isn’t a bedtime but a boundary — a warning that freedom, too, has a clock on it. Williams’ voice floats over the riddim like a prophet’s: the end isn’t theoretical, it’s structural. The ultimate ultimatum comes from the state.
The Stranglers’ Curfew picks up that thread in a darker key — punk paranoia with synth menace. Their city under lockdown isn’t Kingston but a future London. Time has turned authoritarian; the countdown now belongs to the sirens and bureaucrats. Every beat feels like a checkpoint.
The aptly named Deadline’s Deadline makes the theme literal. Their rough-edged energy reflects punk’s obsession with running out — of money, of patience, of time to make a statement. Every bass note is a reminder that tomorrow might not come, so you shout today.
Then, just when the tension peaks, Splodgenessabounds’ Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps Please crashes the party. It’s chaos as catharsis, a pub fight against punctuality. The deadline here is last orders — a comic version of apocalypse where urgency is reduced to thirst. Even an ultimatum can be ridiculous.
But relief is temporary. The Buzzcocks appear with Time’s Up. The moment of reckoning. The buzzer. The end of negotiation.
After that, there’s nowhere to go but inward. Blossom Dearie’s Peel Me a Grape slows the heartbeat, luxuriating in delay. Her jazz phrasing makes procrastination seductive — proof that sometimes we reclaim power from time by refusing to rush. Her ultimatum isn’t shouted; it’s purred.
And finally, Ruth Etting closes the circle with Love Me or Leave Me. It’s an ultimatum of the heart — not about minutes or curfews, but emotional deadlines. Love, too, has its clock. Etting’s 1928 performance makes that final decision sound like the only one that ever mattered.
From Havens’ alarm to Etting’s farewell, these songs chart the pressure points of human timing — social, romantic, political, existential. Deadlines define us, scare us, push us to move. But they also remind us that time itself, for all its tyranny, gives shape to meaning. Without the ticking, there’s no urgency; without urgency, no song.
The Always Approaching Time A-List Playlist:
Richie Havens – Alarm Clock
The Everly Brothers – Wake Up Little Susie
The Monkees – Last Train to Clarksville
Grateful Dead – Cumberland Blues
Echo & the Bunnymen – Never Stop
Madonna – 4 Minutes (featuring Justin Timberlake & Timbaland)
Gregory Isaacs – Curfew
Willie Williams – Armagideon Time
The Stranglers – Curfew
Deadline – Deadline
Splodgenessabounds – Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps Please
Buzzcocks – Time’s Up
Blossom Dearie – Peel Me a Grape
Ruth Etting – Love Me or Leave Me
Guru’s Wildcard Pick:
Mull Historical Society - 5 More Minutes
These playlists were inspired by readers' song nominations in response to last week's topic: Last orders, please! Songs about deadlines and ultimatums. The next topic will launch on Thursday after 1pm UK time.
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