Why the heck was I weeping?
I’m a 50-something white guy watching the Grammys on Sunday night just trying to keep up with what the kids are listening to.
But then, there they were: Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs singing “Fast Car.”
And there were the tears.
The moment created by Combs and Chapman spoke to so many parts of my life, but also to where we are now as a country.
I first heard Chapman’s “Fast Car” in 1988, when I was trying to blow a big chunk of my summer earnings on a real stereo. Chapman’s self-titled new album was on heavy rotation in stereo stores. The crisp, clean sound she created was everything you wanted out of a speaker.
Her music – especially “Fast Car” – sold me on that stereo. And that stereo’s speakers sold me on Chapman’s CD.
It wasn’t just sound. It was the words.
I had recently finished an African American literature course at DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana. Our professor frequently underscored the prevalence of “flying away” in Black authors’ works. With what little I knew of Black Americans’ experiences, I could still understand why you would want to take flight.
“Is it fast enough so we can fly away,” Chapman sang so soulfully about a different, hopeful life in that car.
Flash-forward a couple decades to 2012 or 2013. I pulled out that same CD and shared it with my youngest son. I found it funny how frequently he asked to replay “Fast Car” and wanted to know more about the album.
His musical tastes broadened. His…
