There are many ways for writers to show that a couple is compatible. They finish each other's sentences, they keep on running into each other, they scheme together and, sometimes, they sing together. In this particular trope, musical compatibility equals personal compatibility: the couples that sing together are meant to be.
This trope has its beginnings in opera and in musical theater, where the romantic duet became a beloved, and occasionally satirized, staple. In fact, sometimes the music signals that characters are meant to be together before they even sing a duet. In the United States, many musicals during the so-called "Golden Age" of musical theater featured two characters singing separate songs with similar melodies before they even admitted that they've fallen for each other. The rakish gambler Sky Masterson and the buttoned-up Salvation Army Sergeant Sarah Brown of "Guys and Dolls" (1950) have solo songs whose melodies echo each other before their first romantic duet, "I've Never Been in Love Before." Their songs are two pieces of the same puzzle, bound to click together before the curtain goes down. In some cases, they sing the same melody before they've even met. In Irving Berlin's "White Christmas" (1954), Bob and Betty both sing "Love and the Weather" at the same time, in different places, before having met one another. The music is like a giant flashing "LOVE INTEREST AHEAD" sign.
Let's skip forward a few decades to today, where this trope is best expressed on musical TV shows. Oddly enough, it never really appeared on the dearly departed "Smash" (2012-2013), which was too busy concocting crazy storylines and buying sparkly scarves to have much time for romantic duets. However, both "Glee" (2009-present) and "Nashville" (2012-present), the two remaining music-centric shows on TV, regularly signal romantic pairings with musical compatibility. Of course, the songs on these shows are mainly diegetic, which means that the characters know they're performing, instead of overflowing with so much emotion they simply have to burst into song.
From the moment Gunnar (Sam Palladio) and Scarlett (Clare Bowen) started singing "Fade into You" in the pilot of "Nashville," their chemistry was obvious. I know that I began shipping them the instant he gave her a longing glance over his guitar. And even now, when they seem doomed to never ever get back together (like, ever), the connection when they sing together gives the fans hope. "Nashville" also extends this trope with Deacon (Charles Esten) and Rayna (Connie Britton), whose musical and romantic connection is signaled not only by their easy singing chemistry but also by their ability to write together. They are so attuned to each other that writing hit songs seems to come as naturally as breathing.
"Glee," of course, overused this trope until it was dead and buried, then promptly attempted to bring it back from the dead. It was effective when the characters had chemistry beyond their duet, like Kurt (Chris Colfer) and Blaine's (Darren Criss) rendition of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" (1944) in the semi-golden days of season two. But when the show's writers started pairing characters in duets in an attempt to signal an impending romantic subplot, the trope got twisted beyond all recognition.
So why are music and love eternally linked in our heads? Well, in some ways they both seem utterly improbable. Making sounds with your throat and some pieces of wood and hide that somehow form a melody? Forging a true bond with someone else in a world full of missed chances and thousands of Mr. and Ms. Wrongs? We're fascinated by the search for some connection - like the kind music can inspire. No matter how many times we lose the tune or lose the lover, we keep on looking for that impossibility, hoping that if one can happen, the other can too.
Natalie Girshman is a sophomore majoring in history and drama. She can be reached at Natalie.Girshman@tufts.edu.
