Passionate Kisses

It's entirely reasonable to dismiss Mary Chapin Carpenter's song, "Passionate Kisses," upon hearing it. It sounds whiny and overly romantic at once. In a word, cheesy. But knowing the genesis of the song transforms it. It's a Lucinda Williams song from her eponymous debut album of 1988. Only Williams' original is far more powerful — it's the same song, but not really.

One way of thinking about a musician covering a song is to say that the musician is interpreting a work of art — which, in the case of music, includes the lyrics, music, feel of the song, etc. — that is the original song. But this leaves the first recording of the song in a funny ontological position: is it also an interpretation? Is it simply the work of art? On the one hand, every performance of a work of art (including, presumably, the recording of that work) is an interpretation of it, but at the same time there is nothing more basic and original than that first recording of the work. We could forge a compromise here and say that the original song is both the work of art and an interpretation of that work of art. According to this schema, Lucinda Williams' "Passionate Kisses" would have to be both the original work of art and the interpretation of it. However, it also seems reasonable to say that Lucinda Williams' interpretation of "Passionate Kisses" is part of the original work of art. That is, part of what makes Mary Chapin Carpenter's song an interpretation of "Passionate Kisses" is that it sounds like Lucinda Williams' version. All that said, it doesn't sound enough like it.

How these versions of "Passionate Kisses" differ matters for feminist reasons and, ultimately, for all of us. But perhaps the best analysis of this song stems from the lyric content. The song asks, basically: what can we ask of life? Can't we have it all? Hence it questions the work/life/family balance that is so often discussed by pundits, feminists, and anyone without the money it might take to avoid the problem. The song's second verse asks: "Is it too much to demand/ I want a full house and a rock and roll band/ Pens that won't run out of ink/ And cool quiet and time to think/ Shouldn't I have this/ Shouldn't I have this/ Shouldn't I have all of this, and/ Passionate kisses." It's a feminist song, but its stance is one of metaphysically demanding inquiry as opposed to straight aggressive demand. This is why the song remains interesting. It's a question that continues to be asked. As Franklin Soults put it in an article for The Boston Phoenix, "'Passionate Kisses' is nothing less than a declaration of every woman's inalienable right to the pursuit of happiness. It may be less intense than anything on Hole's Live Through This, but it moves from the everyday to the ecstatic with an effortlessness that is, as Spin rightly has it, exactly two notches more sublime than Courtney Love's best shots."

Now for the difference in sound. Carpenter's version, off her album Come On Come On, begins with a slow piano intro — an introduction to the mood of the song. Then there's a flurry of drum action, and the song lilts along. In Carpenter's hands the song is pleading, almost wistful. It's more melodious, but this melodiousness sacrifices the political import of the song. For the personal to be the political, the artifice of the subject needs to be stripped to the bare minimum. That is, Carpenter's song is prettier, sexier, and easier on the ears than Williams', but it comes with a price: the meaning of the song. The simple, plaintive, and demanding question. Carpenter, it seems, doesn't take the lyrics of the song seriously enough. And maybe she shouldn't. It's not her song, after all.

In Lucinda Williams' hands the song is emboldening, and openly questions society while demanding what she wants "'cause it's her right." It forces the listener to ask what life can offer. As Soults writes, "the song's proto-feminism is mirrored by the performer's plaintive yet plain vocals: the thin, unkempt, almost tremulous grain of her 35-year-old voice is just as moving as her wish list for warm food to fill her body and passionate kisses to fill her soul... There was something heart-wrenching about her motionless, deadpan delivery — an artlessness bordering on gracelessness." It is this artlessness that makes the song political, and it is Carpenter's artistry that prevents her version from being political. Rock'n'roll can be seen as the clash of two impulses: authenticity (exemplified by Robert Johnson) and artifice (exemplified by Elvis). The clash of these impulses is what keeps rock freshly swinging between production values and integrity. The fact that neither side can win is surely a good sign for the state of our music. Moreover, it is interesting to note that in the history of rock it has traditionally been the "honest" performers who have been associated with political action. It doesn't have to remain like this, but for now, Carpenter's version sways a little too far in favor of pop to be taken seriously. However, music — even honest, heartfelt songs like Williams' "Passionate Kisses" — is rarely instrumental to any political cause. Such songs must be viewed as proto-instrumental, that is, they allow for instrumental action (such as political action). What songs like Williams' "Passionate Kisses" offer is possibility. Possibility must always be seen as positive, because it implies that a wonderful future is possible. Thus, "Passionate Kisses," especially in Williams' hands, forces us to acknowledge the possibility that we should be able to have a rockin' career, a love life, and a family because it's our right.

But what if, and this is a major caveat, the differences in the songs are merely natural differences in the respective singers' voices? What if Lucinda Williams' version is harsher just because she has a harsher voice and Carpenter's version more melodious simply because she has been better trained? Does this mean we cannot separate our natural voices from our demeanors, or outlook on life? If we cannot, a songwriter's song could be thought to remain essentially hers well past her recording of it. This, in turn, might form the basis of an argument against artists covering other artists' songs. However, it might also merely mean that our natural artistic differences run a little deeper than previously thought. Of course, this would make finding one's voice all the more important.

— Francis Raven (francisraven at gmail dot com)