it's too late (tapestry #3)

am i bloggin my way through tapestry?  HELL YES I AM.  things will get grim, though.  we are talking about a future that includes, "Smackwater Jack"...

it's too late!!!  this song is all subtext. a victory jog, foot tapping on the grave of what used to be--triumph slowed by confusion but triumph nevertheless. the lyrics provide the definitive statement that the music cannot--it's over & there's no goin back. you can tell me this song is sad a million times but i will never believe you! it's confused, sure, but even the minor key dabbles in the major. it's got a muted joy that feels both totally irrational yet inevitably perfect. when your feelings have departed, realizing that things are over is more of an accomplishment than a defeat. you're finally able to admit what you've been spending your every waking moment denying.

anyway here's the deal--the piano line is over it, luring us into the mess of the song with a drunken confidence. it saunters about the room before jumping on some kind of wobbly throne. those chimes that kick in with the chorus are like a breathmint for the soul. tabula rasa, bitch!!! carole's spent the morning in bed because she's been trying to keep that piano from cheekily announcing that her life will go on--it's almost like those hands have a mind of their own. but it's true what carole king's possessed ass hands announce, it's never too late to throw your boring man to the CURB.

i've been trying to avoid saying this but this album legitimately sounds like it was mixed in hell. the guitar line hits like audio blaring from a pop-up ad; it's a real oil & water scenario. i can never quite figure out why so much guitar was added when we've got carole playing the piano like she's in the finals for the worlds sauciest talent competition. you heard that intro--we have what we need!!! it's a gripe with the whole album--all of the stuff piled on top by some perennially & transparently high producer. a casserole king. we don't even get to appreciate the saxophone! anyway, there's a small orchestra in carole king's bedroom, helping her through this realization.

she feels like a fool not for having loved & lost but for having denied herself this kind of freedom for so long. these instrumental interludes feel like those inevitable pauses in difficult conversations. you ever had a sax line capture your romantic malaise??? the dream. next time i get in a fight with my girlfriend, i'm phoning the nearest saxophonist to play my truth. anyway, this song has it all--saxophone, guitar, a fuckin conga. god bless whoever brought that conga to the studio. for us, it is never too late, conga player. please call me!!!