🎵 Chris Norman – “It’s a Tragedy”: When the Heart Speaks Loudest
There comes a moment in life when a song does more than just play — it reaches in, touches something buried, and holds up a mirror. For many of us, “It’s a Tragedy” by Chris Norman is one of those songs.
The Heartache in the Lyrics
The song opens gently, but with that unmistakable ache:
“There’s an aching in my heart / I’m trying not to lose it / ’Cause I’ve been burned before, and I know how to use it…” Songstranslation+2Shazam+2
Already, we feel the weight of past hurts — love that once burned too brightly, leaving scars. Even so, there’s a fragile hope in his voice: Maybe this time things will be different. Yet he knows the risk.
The chorus pulls us deeper into that tension:
“Hauling after you, holding on to me / There’s an aching in my heart / It’s a tragedy, dancing in the dark / Love’s abandoned me, oh, and no‑one can see…” Shazam+2Musician Wages+2
Love has its private tragedies, the kind no one else notices. The loneliness of “dancing in the dark,” the feeling that love has slipped away while others go on. It’s painful and familiar.
Why It Resonates
For those of us who’ve loved, lost, and loved again, this song feels like a friend who understands. Its melody is soft and earnest, and Chris Norman’s voice — seasoned with time — brings authenticity. It isn’t angry. It isn’t resentful. It’s just sad, realistic, and tender.
Back then we might have heard this song late at night on the radio, or through a crackling cassette tape. The speakers would hum, and we’d lie awake, thinking of someone we missed or someone who left, or wondering if we’d ever feel safe enough to open our hearts again. “It’s a Tragedy” gives voice to that ache, and listening feels like letting some of that weight off.
Memory & Time
Time changes us. We carry scars, but also lessons. Hearing this song now can stir up images: a rain-soaked window, old photographs, letters stashed in a drawer, quiet streets with dim street lamps. Sometimes the tragedy isn’t just what was lost — it’s what was never said, what might have been.
But there is also comfort. Comfort in knowing you’re not alone in feeling that way. Comfort that someone trusted enough to express it in melody.