“A song starts out as a dark, sneering joke. A dying man sings goodbye to the world — his friends, his pastor, his wife,” (Stereogum). “But as he sings goodbye, he also sings that he knows about his wife’s affair with one of his friends … (but) the song changes over the years, as other people cover it. It loses things in translation, both musical and literal. And when it hits #1 in the US and across the world more than a decade later, it becomes a soft, sad farewell, one with no lingering meanness. The affair, which was maybe the whole point of the original song, is gone. It’s just a song about death. There’s nothing funny about it, except maybe in the story of what happened to the song in the first place.
That’s the story of ‘Seasons In The Sun,’ which went from bleak comedy to sentimental mush over the course of 13 years. Before ‘Seasons In The Sun’ was ‘Seasons In The Sun,’ it was ‘Le Moribond,’ a bittersweet 1961 death song from the Belgian poet and composer Jacquel Brel. Brel, a layered songwriter, wrote it as a chanson about warmth and despair and anger, letting them all sit comfortably next to one another.” In recording his 1974 version of the song, Canadian singer (formerly of the Chessmen) Terry Jacks “rewrote it, taking out all the cheating-wife stuff and replacing it with uncomplicated declarations of love: ‘Goodbye Michelle, my little one / You gave me love and helped me find the sun’ … Even without its complicated malevolence, the twice-removed lyrics of ‘Seasons In The Sun’ have a certain power. It becomes a song about pure heartbreak, about knowing you’re going to die and realizing that you really liked being alive: ‘Goodbye my friend, it’s hard to die / When all the birds are singing in the sky’ … in an America that was still reeling from the Vietnam War, when a whole lot of people had dead friends, those lyrics struck an extra chord.”
Even as it moves from its tiny intro to its first verse, “Seasons in the Sun” plays some harmonic mischief, providing a piccardy third-like a shift from F# minor to the verse’s entrance in F# major. 1:52 brings a minor third shift up to A major, but 2:03 provides an even shorter echo of the intro’s side-step, pulling us back down into F# major for the next verse. At 2:55, we climb up to A major again; finally, we have yet another step up to Bb major for only a scant 20 seconds (as the song fades, in peak 1970s fashion).