I sobbed watching and listening to them sing her remarkable song together. Thinking back to watching her in concert in LA with my good friend who I’d met at art school. The two of us midwestern come from childhoods of abuse and poverty still believing we could be someone. Be someone. We jumped with every refrain my friend and I, him dying of AIDS in Reagan’s America. Me not yet realizing how hard it would be for a former foster girl to make it in the arts. Somehow I kept driving even as the car slowed down.
I first saw Tracy Chapman perform in person at the National Women's (Womyn's) Music Festival back in 1986 in Michigan. I have never forgotten that breathtaking experience: even the way she held her guitar was unique and powerful, just like she was, just like her voice and her vision. Back then I wanted to make a career as a singer-songwriter, too. Instead, I became a historian, but folk music remains central to my life and being, especially as a way of bonding with others, and healing my own wounds. For what it's worth, Sarah, each of your essays (like each of your books) is a unique and powerful song that helps those of us who "hear" them to heal, build community, and not feel so alone. Thank you for each and every one of them.
I cried myself to sleep to this song so many times, times when I thought my life would never change, when I feared I would never "be someone" or anyone, for that matter. It is an anthem for a time that never left us, because despair has never left us.
I was in my 20s when Fast Cars came out. I loved it instantly, not only because it was and remains a beautiful song, but because I believed it captured something timeless about a part of America. The same part you wrote about in Flyover. Indeed, it was 'a grim indictment of America' but it also touches on the human - both the suffering, cyclical poverty, broken dreams as well as hope and resilience. It is, in and of itself, a call for empathy and introspection. There can be a 'beauty in the breakdown' too. For anyone who has lived long enough, these motifs resonate deeply in all of us. And music has this wonderful ability to take us back in time, through both the good and bad, and when shared communally, create 'belonging'. Like your Dad, I never watch the Grammys, but for some reason, this time, I did. And I think I and many others had one of those moments.
This is such a beautiful tribute...I saw the performance on video while I was at work and I had to step outside so my coworkers wouldn't see me weeping openly.
“Pink Houses” by John Cougar Mellencamp is another song that evokes similar memories and feelings for me.
I have yet to watch the Chapman/Combs duet, but have seen many friends’ reactions to it from last night, along with this essay. I’m going to need to block out a big chunk of time for the viewing and aftermath, it seems. ❤️❤️❤️
I was in high school when that album came out and I that exact tape too! And I didn’t even grow up here but we all felt the words with her as I feel the words you write now.
I am probably closer to your dad's age, and I was introduced to Tracy Chapman and "Fast Car" in the late 1980s when my children, then transitioning from high school to college, would play it and other songs as the endless soundtrack of them being home on their hols. I have always loved this song for the guitar refrain, for the poetry, for its authenticity, for the innate courage of Tracy Chapman herself. I don't know when I last watched the Grammy's; surely it was sometime in the last century. But then today, all day, I kept seeing on social media that link to the "Fast Car" duet with Tracy Chapman and Mr Combs . I've played it over and over throughout the day, and I couldn't believe how healing it was. And it was touching and cathartic after all we've been through in the last few years to experience the merging of genres and generations to tell an American story.
The messages from music that we get and carry with us are embedded in our memories! Take care of those old cassettes and listen to them remembering the impact they’ve had! I attended a Roy Orbison concert in 1966 and it was tremendous! Lastly, I recently read again the lyrics to Imagine (John Lennon). So good! Thanks for jogging my memory!
I sobbed watching and listening to them sing her remarkable song together. Thinking back to watching her in concert in LA with my good friend who I’d met at art school. The two of us midwestern come from childhoods of abuse and poverty still believing we could be someone. Be someone. We jumped with every refrain my friend and I, him dying of AIDS in Reagan’s America. Me not yet realizing how hard it would be for a former foster girl to make it in the arts. Somehow I kept driving even as the car slowed down.
I’ve always considered this the saddest song I’ve ever heard. You perfectly described why.
<“Fast Car” is not a relic of its time but tragically timeless. Combs’ cover could stay faithful because nothing in this country got better.>
Thank you for managing to speak for all of us dumbstruck by that performance and the good grief it pierced through our numbness.
I first saw Tracy Chapman perform in person at the National Women's (Womyn's) Music Festival back in 1986 in Michigan. I have never forgotten that breathtaking experience: even the way she held her guitar was unique and powerful, just like she was, just like her voice and her vision. Back then I wanted to make a career as a singer-songwriter, too. Instead, I became a historian, but folk music remains central to my life and being, especially as a way of bonding with others, and healing my own wounds. For what it's worth, Sarah, each of your essays (like each of your books) is a unique and powerful song that helps those of us who "hear" them to heal, build community, and not feel so alone. Thank you for each and every one of them.
I cried myself to sleep to this song so many times, times when I thought my life would never change, when I feared I would never "be someone" or anyone, for that matter. It is an anthem for a time that never left us, because despair has never left us.
I'm your father's age and loved that song back then. Hearing her last night was emotional for me.
I miss liner notes so much.
And fast car is burned in my soul.
Last night’s performance was magic and tragic and oh so incredible.
My God, Sarah. Just buckets of tears.
I was in my 20s when Fast Cars came out. I loved it instantly, not only because it was and remains a beautiful song, but because I believed it captured something timeless about a part of America. The same part you wrote about in Flyover. Indeed, it was 'a grim indictment of America' but it also touches on the human - both the suffering, cyclical poverty, broken dreams as well as hope and resilience. It is, in and of itself, a call for empathy and introspection. There can be a 'beauty in the breakdown' too. For anyone who has lived long enough, these motifs resonate deeply in all of us. And music has this wonderful ability to take us back in time, through both the good and bad, and when shared communally, create 'belonging'. Like your Dad, I never watch the Grammys, but for some reason, this time, I did. And I think I and many others had one of those moments.
Maybe its also time for "Talkin' Bout A Revolution" to get a reprise as well. We seem to be stuck in an era of disillusionment.
This is such a beautiful tribute...I saw the performance on video while I was at work and I had to step outside so my coworkers wouldn't see me weeping openly.
“Pink Houses” by John Cougar Mellencamp is another song that evokes similar memories and feelings for me.
I have yet to watch the Chapman/Combs duet, but have seen many friends’ reactions to it from last night, along with this essay. I’m going to need to block out a big chunk of time for the viewing and aftermath, it seems. ❤️❤️❤️
You continue to turn on my heartlight, as I’m sure others too❤️
I was in high school when that album came out and I that exact tape too! And I didn’t even grow up here but we all felt the words with her as I feel the words you write now.
I am probably closer to your dad's age, and I was introduced to Tracy Chapman and "Fast Car" in the late 1980s when my children, then transitioning from high school to college, would play it and other songs as the endless soundtrack of them being home on their hols. I have always loved this song for the guitar refrain, for the poetry, for its authenticity, for the innate courage of Tracy Chapman herself. I don't know when I last watched the Grammy's; surely it was sometime in the last century. But then today, all day, I kept seeing on social media that link to the "Fast Car" duet with Tracy Chapman and Mr Combs . I've played it over and over throughout the day, and I couldn't believe how healing it was. And it was touching and cathartic after all we've been through in the last few years to experience the merging of genres and generations to tell an American story.
The messages from music that we get and carry with us are embedded in our memories! Take care of those old cassettes and listen to them remembering the impact they’ve had! I attended a Roy Orbison concert in 1966 and it was tremendous! Lastly, I recently read again the lyrics to Imagine (John Lennon). So good! Thanks for jogging my memory!