Released in 1963, In Dreams, one of Roy Orbison’s most cherished albums, includes a haunting and poignant track that remains a hidden gem among his more popular hits. The song, “(They Call You) Gigolette,” may not have reached the commercial heights of Orbison’s other classics like “Only the Lonely” or “Oh, Pretty Woman,” but it resonates deeply with anyone who appreciates the subtle complexity of the human heart and its battle against society’s judgments.
At first glance, “(They Call You) Gigolette” seems like a simple ballad. But as Orbison’s distinct, mournful voice fills the space, listeners quickly realize it’s a meditation on the pain of unrequited love and societal scorn. The term “gigolette” itself—rooted in French culture—carries a judgmental connotation, hinting at a woman whose life is colored by promiscuity and moral ambiguity. In the world Orbison paints, the “gigolette” is a seductive, alluring figure, trapped between society’s disdain and the narrator’s admiration.
The song opens with a soft, sorrowful instrumental arrangement—strings gently setting the stage for Orbison’s powerful yet tender vocals. His voice is both fragile and forceful, evoking a sense of longing and heartache. It’s as though the very essence of his emotional vulnerability is on full display as he sings of a woman who flits from man to man, yet remains untouchable, unreachable. “They say your lips are soft and warm / But that you’re a butterfly flying from guy to guy,” Orbison sings, capturing the paradox at the heart of the song: the woman is deeply desired but also feared, a fleeting beauty who seems to escape any form of commitment or permanence.
What makes this song stand out in Orbison’s extensive catalog is how it balances personal longing with societal rejection. Unlike many other songs of the time, “(They Call You) Gigolette” does not cast judgment on the woman. While others may see her as a “devil’s pet,” with a heart made of stone, the narrator views her through a different lens. Despite her reckless abandon, there’s an undeniable pull to her freedom, a freedom that the narrator finds intoxicating. Even though he knows the woman will likely disappear, leaving him with nothing but the memory of a kiss, he calls out for her. “Hold me close, kiss me now,” he implores, accepting the fleeting nature of the moment, acknowledging that tomorrow she might be gone, just as easily as she arrived.
Musically, Orbison’s genius shines through in this track. The lush orchestration, combined with his soulful voice, creates a palpable tension between yearning and caution. The string section underscores the emotional weight of the lyrics, while the subtle shifts in tempo mirror the narrator’s internal struggle: he knows the woman is dangerous, yet he cannot resist her pull. In a way, this mirrors the theme of the song itself—how desire can cloud one’s judgment, leading us to fall for someone who might not be good for us.
The imagery Orbison uses in “(They Call You) Gigolette” evokes a world filled with contradictions. On one hand, the woman is portrayed as a heartbreaker, flitting between men, leaving a trail of broken hearts in her wake. On the other, she’s an object of intense, almost tragic desire. This duality is captured beautifully in the line: “They say your heart is made of stone / But I would love you just the same.” It is this poignant acceptance of the woman’s complexities that elevates the song from a simple love ballad to a deeply reflective exploration of love, morality, and human nature.
Orbison’s ability to find beauty in darkness and vulnerability is evident throughout his career, and “(They Call You) Gigolette” is no exception. This track, while lesser-known, offers a glimpse into Orbison’s unique ability to weave heartache, longing, and the human condition into songs that transcend time. He paints a picture of a world where love is both beautiful and painful, and where societal expectations often clash with the truth of our own desires.
Listening to “(They Call You) Gigolette” is like stepping into a world of longing and confusion, where the heart pulls in one direction, while society pushes in another. It’s a testament to Orbison’s artistry that he can take a simple narrative—an enigmatic woman, a longing man—and transform it into something far more complex, resonant, and emotionally charged.
In the grand scheme of Roy Orbison’s storied career, “(They Call You) Gigolette” may not stand as one of his most famous tracks. However, it is undoubtedly one of his most evocative, revealing the raw depth of human emotion and the eternal tension between personal desires and societal judgments. The song remains a testament to Orbison’s unparalleled ability to turn heartache into timeless art.
So, next time you find yourself listening to the smooth ballads of Roy Orbison, don’t overlook this hidden gem. “(They Call You) Gigolette” may not have topped the charts, but its haunting beauty ensures that it will never be forgotten.