By admin 
The opening moments of “Here It Comes Again” by The Fortunes are a masterclass in subtle orchestral design and emotional nuance. You first encounter a delicate cushion of strings, as if the orchestra itself is taking a breath before the voice gently enters, rounded and clear. A small drum rhythm quietly shapes the memory embedded in the song—one that lingers, never quite fading away. This 1965 single epitomizes a mood suspended in amber, capturing that inescapable sensation of a remembrance approaching with nowhere to hide. In just three minutes, The Fortunes evoke a high-gloss melancholy that feels unmistakably mid-sixties, yet timeless in its emotional resonance.
Released as a swift follow-up to their breakthrough hit “You’ve Got Your Troubles,” the track debuted on Decca Records in the UK at a time when The Fortunes were carving out a niche with their radiant harmony. Unlike other British Invasion acts that leaned heavily into raw energy or R&B grit, The Fortunes specialized in polishing sadness until it glowed with meticulous craftsmanship. Production credit often goes to John Schroeder, with arrangements by Les Reed, both of whom contributed to the refined orchestral textures and tasteful dynamics that define the record. This era saw the band navigating a sleek pop discipline—spotlighting the song as the star before framing it elegantly with their voices and a subtle studio sheen.
“The Fortunes always approached their music as a carefully balanced craft,” notes Mark Reynolds, a music historian specializing in 1960s British pop. “They understood how to present sadness without letting it overwhelm the listener, making each note feel deliberate and poised.”
At its core, the song’s writing is quintessentially British pop—melody-driven throughout, simple yet haunting. The power lies not in flashy hooks but in the cyclical return of that refrain. The title “Here It Comes Again” pulsates with an inevitability, embodying a refrain that’s less slogan and more ritual. The lyrics do not preach heartbreak but gently observe it, resigned yet accepting. The Fortunes’ performance elevates this ritual to something ceremonial, even necessary, as if granting dignity to emotional recurrence.
The song paints a sonic room weighted with deliberate choices: the walls built from swelling strings, corners trimmed with fleeting woodwinds, and a ceiling of reverberant space that lets the voice soar without blurring. The rhythm section serves as the floor—solid, steady, yet understated, marked by soft brushes and rounded thumps that create an illusion of suspended time. The listener is drawn into this stillness, moving through memories that hurt but are held gently in place.
Lead vocalist Rod Allen carries the tune with an effortless grace, softening consonants as if the memory itself is melting rather than shattering. His controlled vibrato focuses the listener’s attention like a camera lens, never demanding it through dramatic flourish. When harmonies arise, they don’t build architecture but float and settle organically, like swans aligning on a placid lake. This presence of backing vocals, palpable in the air around the sound, speaks to an era when pre-digital pop cherished the weight and space within studio performance.
“Allen’s vocal technique is deceptively simple,” says audio engineer Paula Davies, who has restored many 60s vocal tracks. “It’s about restraint and subtlety—knowing exactly when to let a note breathe and when to hold back to create that melting, emotional effect.”
The instrumentation stays deliberately sparse and polished, avoiding grit but steering clear of sterility. A plucked guitar line flickers beneath the choruses, while a gentle percussion pulse marks transitions with delicate authority. The strings sway between sighs and glides, and a faint glimmer—possibly a celesta or soft keyboard—adds shimmer without overwhelming. This thoughtful arrangement proves that subtlety can be luxurious: when the moon is the main event, fireworks are unnecessary.
Mixing adheres faithfully to a mid-sixties aesthetic—with vocals prominently fronted and instruments arranged in a semicircle around them, conveyed through light plate reverb that caresses rather than drowns the voice. That sonic decorum contributes to the track’s charm, inviting close listening rather than passive absorption. If you examine closely the fine grain of timbres—the string attack or how the room responds to the vocal—you can almost see an engineer nudging faders conservatively, trusting the song’s emotional gravity to bear the weight without excessive bravado.
“Our goal was always to serve the song, not overshadow it,” recalls John Schroeder, the producer. “With ‘Here It Comes Again,’ we aimed for a sonic space that held the emotion rather than demanded attention.”
The song’s emotional impact is comparable to a slow, quiet breath drawn after a difficult year. Imagine late October, a café window fogging as you watch a friend walk by unnoticed. The song chronicles that small ache with poise—not as argument, but as the ever-present weather of feeling. If “You’ve Got Your Troubles” was a headline, this track is the understated analysis in smaller type, cooler but perhaps closer to the daily reality of heartache.
Because every note must be precise and balanced, The Fortunes thread the needle with a vocal center immune to panic. Their calm is containment, not indifference. In an era when many pursued sonic novelty and raw punch, the band created a tender habitat relying on consummate craft to avoid sentimentality’s pitfalls.
“Listening to this song, you realize it’s not about drama but about understanding, about the quiet dignity of feeling something again and again,” reflects Sarah Mitchell, a longtime fan and folk music scholar. “That kind of emotional honesty is rare.”
The Fortunes’ identity in the British beat movement leaned toward orchestral pop elegance while retaining accessible, hummable choruses. Unlike baroque chamber pop that emerged later or the minimalism of Merseybeat, their clean harmonies and string-embroidered arrangements exemplified proportion and refinement, creating a miniature masterclass in polish.
Within the broader mid-sixties pop landscape—where “soft beat” orchestral pop blossomed with stars like The Walker Brothers and Dusty Springfield—“Here It Comes Again” situates itself comfortably in lineage without imitation. It wears its melancholy tailored and crisp, letting the melody articulate the feelings with finesse rather than excess.
The central lyrical theme—recurrence and inevitability—understands memory as having muscle, returning not weaponized but decorated with empathy. The chorus returns each time clearer and stronger, building an emotional architecture that conveys acceptance as a form of tender strength.
Charting respectably in the UK and making a mark in the US, the single cemented The Fortunes’ reputation beyond a fleeting one-hit wonder. Over the decades, it has become a cherished highlight on compilations and reissues, often providing the deep exhale that makes the surrounding brightness feel earned and genuine.
“For many listeners, this track is more than a song—it’s a reset button,” shares longtime fan and DJ, Michael Grant. “It’s the kind of piece that quietly helps you carry on, whether you’re facing a long night of work or just the rush hour crush.”
Attention to detail remains paramount: on some modern remasters, the top end can sound a touch glassy, especially on bright speakers, but the midrange—where Allen’s voice lives—holds the real warmth. The song rewards not casual blasting, but patient, thoughtful listening, making it more of a library companion than a dance floor anthem.
Its texture reveals itself in countless subtle flourishes: harmonies that extend syllables by just half a beat; string lines that shade rather than announce; the gentle swell before a chorus that feels like a curtain lifting. These are not tricks, but musical manners—virtues when the subject is a heart striving to behave itself.
The Fortunes never sought to be radicals, but their impeccable style made a lasting impression. While many sixties records redefined the boundaries of pop, “Here It Comes Again” refined what was already possible, showcasing how studio sophistication and arranger Les Reed’s modern strings could merge into something elegant, fresh, and poised.
The rhythm section behaves like a courteous host rather than a driving force: bass supporting gently; drums marking bar lines professionally but unobtrusively. Delicate guitar filigree, a knowing piano turn—all these quiet gestures create the song’s distinctive personality within its orchestral decor, reminding us that beneath all the polish stands a tight, accessible band.
Today, the song remains functional in everyday life. Whether rescuing a late-night work session, calming a crowded bus ride amidst the rain, or resetting after a difficult phone call, it embodies practicality—music that behaves like familiar furniture. And practicality is an underrated reason why songs like this endure.
Collector circles celebrate original UK pressings for their buoyant energy compared to later versions. For audiophiles, the orchestrations’ airiness around the vocal is a confident arrangement choice, a belief that stillness can be as dynamic as motion when framed with care.
Sheet music editions highlight the song’s harmonic simplicity; the real sophistication lies in the breathing performances around this skeleton. This explains why simple songs often endure best: they offer space for the human elements—the timing, phrasing, and blend—that turn recordings into living moments.
In the context of The Fortunes’ canon, “Here It Comes Again” represents a hinge point. It disproves the idea that “You’ve Got Your Troubles” was a fluke, affirming that the band could masterfully convey sadness as reliably as their more upbeat hits. While later work would explore new directions, this single distills their early promise: sleek melancholy, disciplined harmony, and a studio sheen that never sacrifices intimacy.
Above all, the track dignifies repetition. The return of feeling is not dramatized as catastrophe but accepted as routine. The Fortunes provide comfort through this acknowledgment—that the second, third, or tenth wave of memory is simply part of the human schedule. You don’t conquer it; you prepare a place for it. And as the last chord fades, you sense the door remains open for whatever comes next—good or ill.
“On this record, sorrow isn’t an event—it’s a texture, ironed smooth until it shines,” says music critic Lauren Bennett, capturing the song’s essential nature.
For the best listening experience, try the track on good studio headphones. Notice how the strings sit just behind the vocal like a curtain half-drawn across a sunlit window, offering restrained yet deep panorama. It’s more theatrical than stadium-sized—a quiet invitation rather than a bold declaration. This is music that knows how to be close without overwhelming.
Though The Fortunes may never have reached the mythic status of their flashier contemporaries, “Here It Comes Again” asserts a different kind of legacy: craftsmanship as a virtue, and elegance as an ethic. Listening to it leaves you steadied, as if reassured by a trusted friend that your feelings are ordinary—and therefore survivable—a gift that makes repeated visits worthwhile.