Why was I, a middle-aged white guy, tearing up?
Watching the Grammys on Sunday night, I was just trying to keep up with the latest music trends. Then, Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs started singing “Fast Car.” And suddenly, the tears came.
Their performance resonated deeply, touching on personal experiences and reflecting the current state of our country.
I first encountered Chapman’s “Fast Car” in 1988, while searching for the perfect stereo system with my summer earnings. Stereo stores played Chapman’s debut album constantly. Her music, especially “Fast Car,” showcased the crisp, clear sound I desired in speakers.
The song and her sound through those speakers convinced me to buy both the stereo and Chapman’s CD.
More Than Just a Great Sound: The Power of Words
It wasn’t just the sound quality; it was the lyrics that truly captivated me.
I had recently taken an African American literature course at DePauw University. My professor often highlighted the theme of “flying away” in Black authors’ works. Even with my limited understanding of the Black experience, I grasped the desire for escape.
“Is it fast enough so we can fly away?” Chapman sang with such emotion, expressing hope for a better life through that car ride.
Fast forward to 2012 or 2013. I rediscovered that CD and shared it with my youngest son. He was immediately drawn to “Fast Car,” repeatedly asking to hear it and wanting to know more about the album.
His musical tastes expanded, and friends introduced him to mainstream country music. Soon, he was encouraging me to listen. While alternative and rock were my usual genres, I initially chuckled but eventually gave country music a try during car rides.
I began to appreciate it. Beneath the catchy tunes, I discovered clever and playful lyrics.
Tracy Chapman’s surprise performance of ‘Fast Car’ with Luke Combs at the Grammy Awards became a deeply emotional moment for viewers, highlighting the song’s enduring impact.
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Consider Morgan Wallen’s “Whiskey Glasses.” The song portrays a heartbroken man in a bar, seeking solace in alcohol. The lyrics are full of clever wordplay, culminating in the memorable line: “I’ma need a double shot of that heartbreak proof. And see the world through whiskey glasses.”
Escape and Hope Revisited
Then, Wallen faced consequences for violating COVID-19 protocols, leading to the cancellation of his “Saturday Night Live” appearance. Later, his use of racist language further complicated things. It became difficult to publicly admit enjoying his music, and eventually, I stopped listening.
Through this lens, recent NPR discussions about the underrepresentation of Black artists, particularly Black women, in country music resonated deeply. The conversation touched upon Wallen’s racism and Combs’ cover of “Fast Car.” Some commentators felt Combs had appropriated Chapman’s song, potentially overshadowing its significance as a longtime LGBTQ+ anthem.
Driving in my car, I reflected on these music experts’ words: a significant racial barrier exists for Black artists in the country music industry, mirroring barriers in many aspects of American life.
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A Glimmer of Hope on the Grammy Stage
But then, on Sunday night, Combs shared in an introductory video how “Fast Car” was his “favorite song before I even knew what a favorite song was.”
Just a kid connecting with a powerful song.
And then, there they were, Chapman and Combs, together on the Grammy stage.
Did their performance solve racial or socioeconomic issues? Of course not.
However, a Black woman and a white man sang a duet about hardship and the longing for a better future. It suggested that shared struggles and dreams can unite us, highlighting our potential for collective achievement. Perhaps, for those brief moments during the “Fast Car Grammys” performance, political and social divisions faded into the background.
I hope my tears that night were tears of optimism, recognizing the possibilities that still lie ahead, and not tears of despair, fearing that common ground is irretrievable and escape is the only option.
Jim Sergent is a USA TODAY graphics editor.
