Spoken word songs occupy a unique place in pop history. Rarely do they become hits, but one or two make the charts in every decade (at least in the 20th century). In almost every case, the song stays frozen in its era, a novelty associated with the time of its release, going viral before viral became the description, and then quickly disappearing, rarely heard again by anyone other than musical archeologists.

Let’s dig this one out of the ground and brush it off.

You probably know Baz Luhrmann from his big, glitzy movies like Romeo + Juliet, Moulin Rouge and, more recently, Elvis. But he’s also the only film director with a #1 song among his credits. Hitchcock? Spielberg? Nolan? Nope.

So how did this come about? Well, it all starts in Chicago, the town so smart its spelling starts with C-H-I-C…chic! (kudos if you recognize that).

In June of 1997, Mary Schmich, a columnist for the Chicago Tribune, published an imaginary commencement speech, a collection of advice she would dispense to seniors if ever a school asked her to speak at a graduation. She titled the piece “Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young” and it proved to be quite popular, especially on the relatively new public forum known as the World Wide Web.

The internet in those days really was like the Wild West, rumors and unattributed stories ran rampant across the electronic highways and byways. Schmich’s article quickly became a viral sensation — shared from person to person by the quaint method of emailing — but somewhere along the line an urban legend sprang up that the imaginary speech was actually a real commencement speech written and delivered by author Kurt Vonnegut to MIT’s graduating class of 1997.

Around this time, Baz Luhrmann and a couple of other producers were working on a compilation album of dance tracks called Something For Everybody. “Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young” appeared in the email inbox of one of the producers, who then shared it with Luhrmann. He loved it and wanted the whole speech recited over a song by Rozella which he’d used on the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack, but they had a deadline and didn’t think they could reach Vonnegut in time to gain his permission.

Luckily, while searching for Vonnegut’s contact information, they discovered that Schmich had actually written the piece. Luhrmann contacted her, she gave permission, and he hurriedly completed the track in just a couple of days.

The single, titled “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen),” first appeared in 1997 and again in limited release in 1998, but hit worldwide in 1999. It gained a lot of radio play in the US but ultimately fell outside of the Top 40. In the UK, however, the single topped the chart, giving Luhrmann his unique achievement among film directors.

The song may be stuck in time, but the advice is timeless.