Published on Nov 17, 1997
Mary Chapin Carpenter’s long-time musical
collaborator/co-producer/guitarist John Jennings has called her
voice “an invitation to intimacy.” Not physical intimacy, he’s
quick to add, but the emotional kind. And truly, her honey-sweet
tone and masterful phrasing on everything from the stillest of her
ballads to her hardest-rocking flirtations suggest he’s zeroed on
one of the keys to her appeal.
What amazes me as a listener on this particular album, however,
is not so much the skill of the singer as it is the power of the
songs. In a development that will undoubtedly come as a shock to
people who have bought into some of the more insulting stereotypes
of “country” music, this album is one of the
wisest I’ve ever heard. Every single lyric is infused with
an intelligence and emotional maturity that’s by turns startling
and engrossing.
“In this world there’s a whole lot of trouble baby / In this
world there’s a whole lot of pain / In this world there’s a whole
lot of trouble but / A whole lot of ground to gain,” Carpenter
begins, establishing the theme of resiliency that echoes through
this entire album, even as the song’s country-gospel sound –
anchored by piano, fiddle and a chorus of background vocalists –
reinforces its spiritual undercurrents.
As if constructing a novel, she moves then from establishing her
principal theme to a bit of character history, illustrating in the
steadily-rocking “House Of Cards,” a possibly autobiographical
vision of a suburban childhood where “On the surface it looked so
safe / But it was perilous underneath.” In the title tune that
follows, the search for emotional connections that ring true
extends from the family out into the broader society. A folkish
hymn to lost innocence, “Stones in the Road” places on the table
the idealism of a generation that admired Martin Luther King and
Bobby Kennedy – and then carves up the self-satisfaction it has
degenerated into: “We pencil in, we cancel out, we crave the corner
suite / We kiss your ass, we make you hold, we doctor the
receipt… A thousand points of light or shame / Baby, I don’t
know.”
Turning inward once again, Carpenter then steers us through a
melodic, fully-realized series of life lessons. First “Tender When
I Want To Be” makes a rippling plea for breaking down emotional
barriers (“Don’t ever let me hesitate / To be tender when I want to
be”). Then “A Keeper For Every Flame” offers a sharp little fable
about the way romantic longing sometimes overpowers realism (“I
thought my heart was broken but it was just a little bruised / I
thought love had spoken, guess I was just confused”). Soon after,
the title of “The Last Word” serves as the unsung punchline to a
stark, compelling retelling of two lovers’ final confrontation: “I
finally realized / You need it more than you need me / You can have
it, I don’t want it, and when you’ve got it, I’ll be gone.”
Leavening the mix smack in the middle of the album is “Shut Up
And Kiss Me,” a rollicking come-on that nonetheless has wisdom
aplenty of its own to impart: “There’s something about the silent
type / Attracting me to you / All business baby, none of the hype /
That no talker can live up to.” Some juicy slide guitar from Lee
Roy Parnell and Trisha Yearwood’s background vocals round out this
five minute party/intermission, before it’s back to business with
several more well-crafted looks at the ways we constantly search
for connections (including the remarkable “John Doe No. 24,” with
its soaring Branford Marsalis sax work).
Finally, Carpenter falls back as if spent to the core of her
argument: the key to resiliency is love – but not necessarily
romantic love. The purest love, she argues in the closing “This is
Love,” is less about passion and romance than it is about a
fundamental commitment to the other person’s emotional well-being.
It is a love that, in the end, grants you peace by being able to
overcome even the hardest of hard feelings (a theme Don Henley hit
a career peak on with “The Heart Of The Matter”). Listen in for a
minute as the piano rolls to a steadily ascending beat, crowned by
the last line:
“And I see you still and there’s this catch in my
throat and
I just swallow hard til it leaves me
There’s nothing in this world that can change what we
know
Still I know I am here if you ever need me
And this is love”
For anyone who’s ever experienced any real turbulence in their
relationships, these lines are likely to carry the power of
well-delivered two-by-four. Love hurts, Carpenter seems to say, but
when we succeed in riding that pain out and returning to our
eternal search for connection, we win the only battle we’ll ever
really need to in our lifetime. To me, the thirteen exceptionally
well-written and played songs on
Stones In The Road speak wisdom of a quality that is as rare
in popular music as true love is in life itself.