Canter Bridge

For Tracy Chapman, ‘you … and reality’ are not synonymous. Rather, the aggrieved architecture of her lyrics claims that ‘there is fiction in the space between you .. and reality.’

It is precisely this habitation of the spaces in between that makes the artist’s 2000 release an enduring and beguiling sucsess that repays regular revisitations. That, and her lean, sad voice, an instrument verily designed for the kind of border-line blues that come at the listener, track after track, in Telling Stories.

There are few certainties here, just an extraordinarily steady gaze that is set upon the eccentricities, the disconnects, and—yes—the fictions that permeate what others prefer to see as the seamlessness of life. Chapman trains her eyes upon the seams and claims, persuasively, that hers is the more truthful vision.

The instrumentation of this album are held in brilliant restraint, a decision that allows the rich and multiple textures of Chapman’s voice to predominante and, finally, prevail. She wishes the stories she tells were less true or that there were an alternative location where they didn’t matter at all. ‘Please forgive me for wanting to know’, she asks, ‘does heaven have enough angels yet?’

I’m not sure, Ms. Chapman. Perhaps there is still room.