Again ( #284 before), we hear Wright's voice--a more soulful, jazzy update of Joan Armatrading's. Here, Wright offers shelter and support and open arms, but she does so by walking with her feet on the ground, as there's little joy in her voice this time around. Her tone bespeaks of optimistic fatalism, her voice strong and sure and knowing, offering unconditional love and nuturing, a voice that shows if not joy then hope and confidence, a voice of experience that knows of the world and all its travails and travesties and sees them clearly yet still refuses to run, instead inspiring, nay asking, her loved one to do the same, to come to her, for as though the skies may be dark and the future bleak--as represented by not only Wright's voice, but by the stark, desolate music with its empty spaces and its Duane Eddyesque tremoloecho guitars--Wright's still there, waiting, her faith in her love and in her ability to beat back the encroaching abyss strong...she's Danny Rand's mother, taking the wolves herself while she sends her son across the bridge; she's Banquo thinking only of Fleance's safety, she's Ms. Berryhill, Mrs. Zimmerman, Mrs. Satterfield, giving their husbands not only encouragement but themselves, refusing to admit defeat, staying the course when so many would have surrendered to inevitability, believing that there's always hope, that there's always a chance to keep the wolves at bay, perservering, fighting back, not letting their loved ones slip away into the abyss, telling their lovers to not go gentle unto that good night.
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