When you think of prom night, images of shimmering gowns, perfectly coiffed hair, and slow dances under twinkling lights probably come to mind. The soundtrack to these moments is usually filled with songs about everlasting love and youthful exuberance. You might expect to hear anthems about friendship that lasts forever or ballads about holding onto that special someone. Often, these songs are tailor-made for the prom experience. But what if, amidst the typical prom playlist, you heard lyrics asking, “Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?” It’s an unexpected sentiment, unless you, like many students on Long Island in the 80s and 90s, found yourself swaying to Alphaville’s synth-pop classic, “Forever Young,” during your senior prom’s slow dance. For my graduating class at Sayville High School in 1995, dancing in style to this somewhat apocalyptic yet hopeful tune became a surprisingly defining moment.
Released in 1984 as part of the album of the same name, “Forever Young” by the German band Alphaville, consisting of Marian Gold, Bernhard Lloyd, and Frank Mertens, wasn’t initially destined for prom night glory. Emerging during the era of new wave dominance, alongside bands like Duran Duran and U2, the song might have seemed lost in the shuffle of synth-heavy hits dominating radio stations like WLIR (later WDRE). While it only reached number 65 on the Billboard Hot 100 upon its initial release, “Forever Young” possessed a unique staying power. It evolved into a cult favorite, lingering in the cultural consciousness for years after its chart peak, especially on Long Island. According to a 1988 Billboard article, the song topped WDRE’s listener countdown that year, solidifying its influence in the region.
“Forever Young” is so slow and dreamy that Laura Branigan could cover it (and did). While “Forever” was the top record of 1985 at WPST Trenton, NJ, where it is still played as an oldie, it hasn’t been passed from one hip, top 40 PD to another (Both “Blue Monday” and “I Melt With You” have). It’s not even played everywhere in its own format. It has shown up at various Long Island high schools as a class song in recent years. The song’s popularity among teens may be due to its emphasis on mortality, a running theme in the bopper hits of the ‘70s.
This Billboard excerpt highlights the song’s unusual trajectory – not a mainstream chart-topper, but a beloved track with a dedicated following, particularly among high school students. The article suggests a connection to the “bopper hits” of the 70s and their themes of mortality, but for a generation raised on 90s alternative rock, the appeal of a synth-driven German ballad might seem less obvious.
Growing up in the late 70s and 80s, my musical landscape was shaped more by alternative rock than 70s “bopper hits.” Before discovering Queen through Wayne’s World, my 70s exposure was limited to Sesame Disco. So, how did a song like “Forever Young” resonate with a class steeped in the sounds of alternative rock icons like Nine Inch Nails, Green Day, and Metallica? While some of us still held onto The Cure, The Smiths, and Morrissey, our high school hallways were overwhelmingly filled with band t-shirts representing the grunge and alternative explosion of the early 90s.
Looking back fifteen years later, I’ve considered why “Forever Young” became our prom song. Perhaps someone on the student council, possibly swayed by a sibling’s nostalgia, found the lyrics deeply meaningful. Given the strong sense of legacy and tradition within our school and town, the “older sibling influence” theory seems most plausible. Regardless of its selection process, the song’s lyrics offer a fascinating glimpse into the unexpected depth of a prom night anthem.
“Let’s Dance In Style, let’s dance for a while / Heaven can wait, we’re only watching the skies / Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, are you gonna drop the bomb or not?” The opening verse is undeniably dark for a celebratory occasion like prom. It evokes a sense of impending doom, a far cry from typical prom themes of carefree joy and romance. Yet, this stark opening is immediately followed by a contrasting message of resilience: “Let us die young or let us live forever / We don’t have the power but we’ll never say never.” This juxtaposition creates a powerful statement about facing uncertainty with defiance and hope. It’s a teenage rebellion against cynicism, a real-world echo of The Breakfast Club‘s iconic line, “When you grow up, your heart dies.” “Forever Young” became an anthem for a generation unwilling to simply accept a bleak future. It’s a refusal to “go gentle into that good night,” a quiet rage against the dying of the light, expressed through soaring synthesizers instead of guitars and drums.
However, the selection process for our prom song wasn’t exactly a democratic process fueled by lyrical analysis. In a school steeped in tradition, and with a prom committee likely driven by strong-willed individuals, a fondness for Alphaville could easily become a defining choice. When it came to voting, most of my classmates were unfamiliar with “Forever Young,” likely overshadowed by the more recognizable options: Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” and the Beastie Boys’ raucous “Fight for Your Right.”
While I might not have been popular enough to sway the vote against “Forever Young,” the inclusion of “Fight for Your Right” on the ballot guaranteed its popularity. Even non-prom-goers would likely rally behind the Beastie Boys’ party anthem. But, as it often goes with prom planning, the committee’s preference prevailed.
Despite my initial unfamiliarity, “Forever Young” grew on me. When my friend Melissa unearthed a cassette copy and played it in the yearbook office, the song’s lyrics and atmosphere clicked. It became an anthem, strangely fitting for a class whose prom playlist also included unexpected choices like “December, 1963 (Oh What a Night!)”, “Blister in the Sun”, “Bizarre Love Triangle”, and Simon & Garfunkel’s “Cecilia.” Our prom soundtrack was an eclectic mix, defying typical prom music conventions. In an era dominated by ballads like Mariah Carey’s “Hero” (our graduation song), we were, dare I say, choosing to dance in style with a touch of sophistication and irony.
“Forever Young”‘s status as a Long Island prom staple wasn’t entirely unique to my class. Years later, it appeared in a Saturn Ion commercial and the prom scene of Napoleon Dynamite, solidifying its place in pop culture prom iconography. But for us, back in 1995, it felt different. Trends spread through radio airwaves and word-of-mouth, lending a sense of sincerity and genuine connection to the music we chose.
Fifteen years after my own senior prom, I appreciate the unexpected choice of “Forever Young” even more. As I often tell my students, proms are inherently flawed events. The food is usually mediocre, the music often generic, and drama is almost guaranteed. Yet, amidst the predictable prom clichés, there are moments of genuine connection and memory-making. I was one of the few who stayed until the end, opting for a movie night with friends over typical post-prom revelry.
My prom wasn’t a scene from Pretty in Pink, nor was it the idealized version I might later write about in fiction. But June 22, 1995, remains a vivid memory. Whenever I hear “Forever Young,” I’m transported back to that night – six friends crammed into a limo with a video camera, genuinely trying to have a good time. Turning 18 the next day, just before graduation, added to the sense of transition and possibility. In the long run, isn’t that all you can really ask for from a prom night? A memorable experience, soundtracked by an unlikely anthem that captured a generation’s spirit of dancing in style, even on the edge of the unknown.
