Uploaded October 2018 | Updated September 2026, 15 hours ago

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Jill Sobule performing "Nostalgia Kills"

“Nostalgia Kills” Pinko Records
https://smarturl.it/NostalgiaKills/

instagram.com/jillsobule

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Over the last couple of years, for some reason, I’ve been searching out old records, comic books, toys, and kitsch from my childhood. I’ve been watching movies from the 70s and 80s and old TV shows. I have been trying to find old boyfriends/ girlfriends on Facebook. I went through my mom’s collection of all my 90s “Jill Sobule” memorabilia: the booklet from Radio City where I opened up for Joe Jackson, the VHS tapes of when I hosted MTV 120 Minutes, my Tonight Show appearance where I sat between crazy James Woods and David Dukovany, and the picture of when I was on stage with…James Brown, James Taylor, Carol King, Brian Wilson, Neil Diamond and friggin Sir Paul McCartney. Yes I was. The glory years. Is this just innocent nostalgia, or is this what old people start doing? Am I becoming my Lawrence Welk loving grandparents? Have I forsaken new adventures, new sounds, new possibilities for a rickety old time machine?

It’s time to move on. But I still may have to watch Columbo.

By the way, my very first “boyfriend” messaged me on Facebook this year. He asked me to go steady in 6th grade, then one week later broke with me. I hadn’t seen him since Jr. High. He wrote a cute letter, saying that he had followed my career and was proud of me. He added, “ I hope you’re still not mad at me”. I wrote back, “ I always knew one day you would come crawling back”.



Turn off the Lights, I’ll pull down the screen
And turn on the projector and then we’ll see
How it used to be, you and me

You in your striped shirt and desert boots
I’m in my blue dress and cardigan
Funny how it comes back again

As we open the box and another appears
We look at ourselves in a long row of mirrors
We get smaller and smaller with each passing year
We have to keep moving or die

Turn up the volume on the stereo
Let’s spin it round like so long ago
Like when we kissed. And it goes like this

As we open the box and the music we hear
We look at ourselves and our long trail of tears
We get younger and younger with each passing year
We have to keep moving or die


As we open the box and another appears
We look at ourselves in a long row of mirrors
We get smaller and smaller with each passing year
We have to keep moving or die


We wax and we wan and we hold on to time
Of our halcyon days, we were able to find
We watch it today but please put it away
Cause we have to keep moving or die

We have to keep moving, we have to keep moving, we have to keep moving or die
We have to keep moving, we have to keep moving, we have to keep moving or die
We have to keep moving, we have to keep moving, we have