Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline Was The Perfect Rock Song Until Weddings Ruined It

Isn't it ironic that the very things that make certain rock songs legendary and timeless can also ruin them? Almost too catchy or too powerful or too sweet or heart-rending to be left alone, they become victims of their own success. Oversaturation can turn even the greatest anthems and pop gems bland, even repellent, and you feel you can't escape them, because you literally can't. Lurking on grocery store playlists or touch-screen juke boxes, they become less songs, and more bitter facts of life.

Neil Diamond's classic, "Sweet Caroline," no doubt belongs in this select company. This track is inevitable; try to find a wedding band that doesn't play it, or a karaoke night that doesn't feature multiple let's just call them "spirited" renditions. Even sports fans can't escape the grasp of its rousing three and change minutes, erupting in incongruous cheers as it's blasted from stadium speakers. When we hear that classic intro, we can't help but groan in recognition and resignation; here we go again.

What's brutal about this whole business is that — on its own merits — "Sweet Caroline" is a classic rock banger and has been since its release in 1969. Its perfect balance of saccharine confection and genuine passion makes its declaration of love both intimate and universal. Yes, even we can't help but sing along to that infectious pre-chorus: "Hands / Touchin' hands / Reachin' out / Touchin' me / Touchin' you." The payoff is epic, no doubt, but we've heard it a million times before.

Based on who the Caroline in "Sweet Caroline" is supposed to be — or at least where the title comes from — the song seems an odd choice as a wedding staple. While recording in Memphis, Tennessee, Neil Diamond needed a three-syllable name for a song he was writing for his wife at the time, Marcia Murphy. The two syllables of her name weren't fitting. The name came from a magazine photo Diamond had seen of a young Caroline Kennedy, daughter of President John F. Kennedy and Jacqueline, posing with her pony. As he told the Associated Press in 2007, "It was such an innocent, wonderful picture, I immediately felt there was a song in there" (via Biography). Regardless, the lyrics address a partner, not the President's daughter, so of course it's perfect for weddings. A little too perfect. 

"Sweet Caroline" joins a pantheon of songs named after women that includes everything from Buddy Holly's "Peggy Sue" and The Beatles' "Michelle" to Prince and the Revolution's sexy "Darling Nicki." And as in those songs, the lyrics describe emotion or intimacy with a partner. Even in the hands of a middling wedding band singer or karaoke enthusiast, lines like, "And when I hurt / Hurtin' runs off my shoulders / How can I hurt when holdin' you?" ache with emotion. You can feel the love reach up and bloom on a bed of horns and strings. Of course, that's also the problem; "Sweet Caroline" is such a pretty flower, it's become a weed.

For as overplayed as "Sweet Caroline" is, surprisingly, it never actually topped the charts, only reaching No. 4 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1969. That said, it brought Neil Diamond his largest audiences yet, setting the stage for hits like "Cracklin' Rosie" and "Song Sung Blue." As he told Billboard in 2018, "'Sweet Caroline' came up, and saved me from a fate worse than death, which would've been working as a civilian somewhere" (via Library of Congress). But as well as it did in its time, the song didn't fade away; it rooted deeper into the soil and grew a stronger trunk.

It wasn't just Neil Diamond's decades of touring and performing that elevated this song. Like The White Stripes' "Seven Nation Army," "Sweet Caroline" returned to prominence — and reached a new stratosphere — thanks to sports. Starting in 1997, it would feature in late innings at Fenway Park if the Red Sox were ahead, and by 2002, the song became an eighth-inning staple. For some reason, a love song written by a Brooklyn native and life-long Dodgers fan has become a Massachusetts baseball anthem. We speculate that it's intimidating for the visiting team to hear thousands of voices scream-sing the chorus in awful unison.

The problem with "Sweet Caroline" — what makes it downright frustrating — is that you can hear exactly why it's become overplayed. Even the most jaded wedding guest can't help but hum along when the pre-chorus inevitably beckons them back to the dance floor and gives boomers instant party flash backs. On cover band set lists, playlists, dusty record shelves, or in karaoke queues, "Sweet Caroline" lurks, waiting to get stuck in our heads for the millionth and first time.