1974 John Denver: Annie's Song

My own first encounter with 'Annie's Song' came via James Galway's 1978 instrumental version, a recording that went on to provide the hackneyed template for every 'new age' release from that day to this. But I'll not hold that against him. It wasn't until later that I discovered it was actually written by professional country boy John Denver and that it came with a set of lyrics dedicated to his then wife 'Annie'.

In Galway's version, the melody is stressed over all and, when picked out on the flute, it's an emotively pretty one (it wasn't until later still I found out this itself was 'borrowed' from the second movement of Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony'). But Denver carries the whole of the tune with his voice; and it's a voice that, let's be honest, is a whole less tuneful than Galway's flute. So much so less tuneful that he almost derails his own song. And it's not just the general tunelessness of the vocal either; the vagueness of Denver's lyrics never bring 'Annie' to life and we are no near to understanding her at song end than we are at song start.

Then again, as Denver is apparently celebrating love itself rather than the subject maybe we're not supposed to, but in that too the lyrics layer on metaphor like a motorway pile up, comparing his love to (inter alia) ' a night in the forest', 'the mountains in springtime', 'a walk in the rain', 'a storm in the desert'. Vivid descriptions all, (and the fact they don't specifically refer to an 'Annie' gives the song broad appeal), but all ultimately a bit meaningless in isolation and more than slightly alienating; they lack the shared immediacy of that 'ah, I know exactly what you mean' response because you're never entirely sure what Denver is getting at beyond attempting to generate a mystic-like ambience from what sound like the titles of eighties Athena posters; in that sense, 'Annie's Song' is no more than the audio version of that infamously iconic/kitsch 'Wings Of Love' print.

Despite this, I'm willing to give 'Annie's Song' the benefit of the doubt. A tad sickly and gushing it may be, Denver's voice has the rough hue of emotional sincerity that just about raises it above the empty platitudes of a greetings card verse, though not enough (to my thinking anyway) to make it anything other than a guilty pleasure - the pleasure is in the tune (which, don't forget, isn't really Denver's anyway), but the guilt in listening comes from knowing there are any number of singer songwriters who have done this sort of thing so much better who you could be listening to instead.