Donna Fargo’s Spoken Farewell: That Was Yesterday Still Whispers to Us – A Reflective Goodbye to a Love Left Behind, Spoken with a Hopeful Heart
In April 1977, Donna Fargo released “That Was Yesterday”, a single that climbed to number 1 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart by July 2, knocking Waylon Jennings’ “Luckenbach, Texas” off its six-week perch—a feat that made it her sixth and final chart-topper. Pulled from her album Fargo Country on Warner Bros. Records, it didn’t cross over to the pop charts like her earlier hits “The Happiest Girl in the Whole U.S.A.” or “Funny Face”, but in the country world, it was a quiet giant, a gold record that spoke to the faithful. For those of us who tuned in back then—fiddling with an AM dial or dropping a quarter in a diner jukebox—it was Donna’s voice, soft yet piercing, that carried us through, a sound as familiar as a creaky porch swing on a summer night. Now, in 2025, as I sit with the weight of years, “That Was Yesterday” drifts back like a letter found in an old drawer, stirring a nostalgia so thick you can almost taste the dust of those days.
The story behind “That Was Yesterday” is as much about Donna Fargo’s grit as it is about the song itself. She wrote it solo, pouring her heart into a spoken-word piece—a rarity in country, where twang and steel usually ruled. Initially, she wasn’t sold on the first cut; it felt too much like Patsy Cline, she told Country Song Roundup, and Donna saw herself as a storyteller, not a mimic. Warner Bros. had already locked it in, though, so she took the session tape home, wrestling with it until she found its soul—blending spoken verses with a sung chorus, a hybrid that felt like a fireside chat set to music. Recorded in Nashville, it was a risk that paid off, becoming the second wall-to-wall recitation to hit number 1 in the ‘70s and the last spoken-word country chart-topper to date. Released as disco glittered and outlaws like Waylon roared, it was a gentle rebellion—a woman’s voice cutting through the noise with nothing but words and a melody.
The meaning of “That Was Yesterday” is a tender unraveling—it’s a woman looking back at a love that’s slipped away, reciting the good times like a rosary, then letting them go with a sigh. “I’ve always believed that when you feel something good for someone, you should let them know,” Donna begins, her voice a confessional, before tracing the arc of a romance—laughter, closeness, then the quiet fracture. It’s not bitter; it’s wistful, a nod to what was and a wish for what might be, for both her and the one she’s lost. For those of us who leaned into it back then, it was the sound of late-night kitchen talks, of staring out a window as rain streaked the glass, of a time when we’d replay a breakup in our heads just to feel it one more time. That final “yesterday’s gone” lands soft, a door closing with a click, leaving hope flickering like a candle in the dark.
Donna Fargo was a country poet, and “That Was Yesterday”—her first number 1 since ’74—marked a peak before her chart fortunes waned, though her pen never dulled. I remember it spilling from a bar’s speakers, the way we’d hush to hear her speak, the ache of it settling into our bones like a familiar friend. For older hearts now, it’s a bridge to 1977—of polyester shirts and pickup trucks, of a world where a song could talk you through the pain, and Donna was the voice that understood. “That Was Yesterday” lingers—a spoken memory that still holds us, gentle as a hand on the shoulder, reminding us of loves we’ve left behind and the strength to say goodbye.