Exploring Music and Popular Song
by Steve Wacker
June 27, 2001

What do songs accomplish? In the process of trying to connect with an audience, they might make us think, or laugh, or cry. They might make us shake a leg or tap our toes. They might convey an attitude, or try to convince us of a certain point of view. But generally, songs either tell stories or communicate feelings and ideas.

Some songwriters seek to connect with their audience by relating universal stories and feelings, which can result in songs that become anthems of their time. But I think those songwriters who communicate the most intimate and deeply personal thoughts and feelings and still connect with their audience are the ones who meet the greatest challenge. One such songwriter on the current scene is Shawn Colvin, whose work I’ve come to admire a great deal.

I first became aware of Colvin in the early 1990s, when I saw her open a show for the British singer/songwriter and guitarist extraordinaire Richard Thompson. The song that knocked me out from that era was “Polaroids,” from her Fat City album. While I thought the rest of the album was somewhat uneven, “Polaroids” quickly became a favorite and remains one today.

“Polaroids” is a narrative about a relationship, but there’s no chorus or conventional hook to draw the listener. The song has an appealing shuffle-like rhythm, although it’s quite low-key. The primary instrument is an acoustic guitar. There’s a brief, simple slide guitar solo by David Lindley and dreamy pedal steel fills by Larry Campbell, although both are understated.

I think it’s the combined effect of lyric imagery and Colvin’s voice that put this song across, both of which showcase her abilities as an artist. In “Polaroids,” Colvin reflects on her past:

I was so wary then
The ugly American
Thinner than oxygen
Tough as a whore

and

Doing that slouch and jive
The artist must survive
We’ve got all we need we cried
And we don’t look back

Colvin then acknowledges that she’s aware of how she came across:

And the letters I wrote you of
Were those of the desperate stuff
Like begging for love in a suicide threat

before stating her unwillingness to live that intensely:

But I am too young to die
Too old for a lullaby
Too tired for life on the ledge

The song’s final verse relates a dream about two lovers who “walked the plank” and “laughed as they rocked and reeled,” which appears to convey Colvin’s coming to terms with the end of a significant relationship. I don’t know if the person being sung to is her longtime collaborator John Leventhal, but they used to be romantically involved. Both are married to others now, and I’m glad they’re still working together because the songs they created for her most recent release are among the most finely crafted I’ve heard in a while.

A Whole New You finds Colvin continuing to write introspective lyrics, and Leventhal’s music and production work is of the highest caliber. I think the combined effect of words and music on this album is stunning, although I’m not sure if it will be successful enough in a commercial sense to win a Grammy as their previous collaborations have. However, if there was a category for Best Work by Former Lovers Who Have Continued to Write Songs Together, I think this would win hands down.

One of the most interesting songs on A Whole New You is called “Another Plane Went Down,” which weaves a mysterious-sounding fabric out of current events, memories, and dreams. While not likely to win any awards because of its adult themes and use of an expletive, it appeals to me because it’s so effective at communicating that woozy, magical state of mind that lies somewhere between dreams and consciousness.

“Another Plane Went Down” begins with the shimmering sound of a tremoloed electric guitar, and the opening lyric relates a universally known current event:

Another plane went down today in the
Atlantic nine miles offshore

The song switches to the personal perspective:

And every single black car that goes by just
might be yours

and then back to the tragedy, communicating that morbid fascination that so many of us have with disastrous events.

The second verse relates a memory:

I remember when I was fifteen me and Liz
would ride around
We liked to smoke in the car in the winter
with all the windows rolled down

and then the memory of a dream about an exploding plane, which segues into a comment about “so many other dreams” and an even spacier-sounding dream sequence that relates:

The one that I had today
You and the Italian woman naked
Your fingers between her legs
She lay like a body in the water
She barely made a sound

After the dream sequence, we’re jerked back to reality:

Meanwhile back on earth I told you to
fuck off and go away

and told that a friend’s girlfriend died in a plane crash. The “so many other dreams” comment is repeated, and the song ends with

I wish I was with you now
Down at a Sixth Street bar
Laughing at the singer
Smoking in the car

In addition to superb songs, this album also contains some wonderful sounds. For example, the string arrangements Leventhal and Stephen Barber created are excellent, and remind me of some of the arrangements George Martin wrote for the Beatles. Leventhal also plays great lead guitar; if I didn’t know better I might guess George Harrison was recruited to play for the album.

I’m not sure, but I don’t think you’ll hear other artists record many of the songs on this album; they’re too personal. However, the songs discussed here and the other work of Colvin and Leventhal makes me think the craft of songwriting is alive and well.

 

Quoted song lyrics by Shawn Colvin.