Carol King, Tapestry

7 October 2024
Is Tapestry Woven Into All Of Us?
REBECCA WOODCOCK
Carole King’s Tapestry is an album I cannot stop myself from falling back in love with. From depicting the disorientation of falling in love, to a soulful recognition that the love she once had for her partner is gone, Tapestry explores the multifaceted dimensions of love and human connection. With such great depth of feeling, she writes from the marrow, sharing exactly what it is to be human. Perhaps you may have heard her song ‘Where You Lead’ sitting on your couch watching endless episodes of Gilmore Girls, or maybe you're familiar with Arethra Franklin’s ‘Natural Woman’. Whilst at first she wrote for artists such as The Drifters, The Chiffons and The Animals, after working with James Taylor she truly found her own voice. A voice that would earn her four Grammy’s and Record of the Year in 1972. Through writing with vulnerability about her personal experiences, King fosters a new connection between singer and songwriter as each lyric is performed exactly how it was meant (from the heart). She transparently depicts the human experience and provides catharsis universally. Afterall, at its core, it is a confessionary conversation between friends, and a space to project our own experiences onto.
Tapestry is woven into us because of its relatable content. We feel recognised as she sings of the ways we love and lose, using evocative language and multiple perspectives to convey our experiences. In this article I intend to deconstruct some of her ideas to present how I think her songs were intended to be heard and what we can learn. Through dissecting Carole King’s lyrical nuances in her album Tapestry, we can start to unveil exactly how she creates a space for listeners to go beyond themselves. A space to uncover the repressed, and find a deeper truth that resonates with the listener. King’s lyrics allow us to reflect on our own personal experiences and find comfort in the knowledge that we are not alone. Each relisten gives us a new meaning. Not only do we feel recognition but we are given a more optimistic resolve in each of her songs to potentially subvert the perhaps pessimistic view of our own experiences.
The opening track ‘I Feel the Earth Move’ immediately sets the tone for the album, acknowledging the presence of constant change in life. She explores the disorientating feeling of personal metamorphosis, specifically, the loss of one’s independence, which is pushed aside by her want to rely on a partner. The speaker's world has completely shifted from what she knew.
​
With such a relatable opening, King begins to verbalise the human experience, consistently using present sensorial language such as ‘I Feel’. There is no logic, her emotions hold greater weight. She subverts our feelings of anger towards change to a more positive outlook that change is not innately bad.
​
Her words are without a doubt, honest. The repetition of ‘I feel’ implies that she is reacting to things out of her control – the earth, the sky and her own heart. Things that once were stable, now are sporadically in motion. King’s speaker somewhat gives over her power to her partner and allows herself to be changed like her world around her. The earth’s movement juxtaposes the two lovers, the world moves on without them as they remain in this state of bliss.
​
Usually, the sky tumbling down would be a negative image, here it may suggest that the future she had lined up before has been torn down to make space for a new horizon. As with this loss of control her boundaries come ‘tumblin’ down’ opening herself to new experiences outside of her comfort zone. Perhaps, that is something we all need to become more open to, no matter how uncomfortable it may feel.
​
Following this, we as listeners face a new level of vulnerability in the song,‘Will You Still Love Me’, which depicts the awareness of love’s instability through unanswered questions filled with insecurity. King’s opening line ‘tonight you're mine’ takes complete ownership and like before there is a focus on wanting to remain present in their relationship. The ‘light of love’ is a powerful line, bearing religious connotations which depicts their love as all encompassing. She questions throughout if she can be ‘sure’ of this love, however, her cries are never answered, highlighting that love is not a stable factor, be it your own, or your partners. Instead, we can perhaps learn that you must be content with obtaining love only momentarily. Whilst there is an inevitability of change, she is willing to believe in this love for however long it stands for, leaving the listener with a mature view on life’s immutability.
​
King’s vulnerability does not stop there; ‘So Far Away’ conveys a deep yearning for a relationship which has passed. Here she perfectly verbalises the feeling of knowing that she must let go of someone no matter how much she misses them.
​
The person the speaker misses is ‘just time away’ suggesting that rather than being physically apart, she is reflecting on an old relationship. She yearns for a time gone by where her feelings were reciprocated, where he was within ‘reach’. She repeatedly questions ‘doesn’t anybody stay in one place anymore’, demonstrating her indignation for life’s consistent change, however, there is a tonal shift as she states, ‘one more song about movin’ along the highway’. The phrase ‘one more song’ underlines that this has become tenuous, tired of continuously having to move on and start again. The speaker goes on to highlight how much she wishes to be independent but yet her heart still wants to be ‘close to [her previous partner]’. Whilst she accepts that she must move on, there is worry that the ‘road [will] come to own [her]’, suggesting she will never leave this liminal space of yearning, be it now or following another ended relationship. This explores the fear that she will continue to be single/without love.
​
The last verse I hold deeply in my heart. She concludes with an optimistic image, as she understands there are still ‘so many dreams [she’s] yet to find’, underlining that this is not the end of her story, only the end of their relationship. During breakups it may be easy to completely fall apart after giving so much of yourself to another person, but, rather than giving up completely, we must redirect that love and find somewhere else to put it.
​
‘So Far Away’ can be interpreted as a written response to ‘It's Too Late’. In comparison to having left a relationship unwillingly, “It’s Too Late” presents someone who is discontent within a relationship they are still in. Whilst the speaker knows there is ‘something wrong here’, he is procrastinating making a change. Instead, he stays in bed, stagnant in the physical symbol of their past intimacy. In this space he acknowledges that there has been a shift, despite not knowing what’s wrong, it is clear the relationship can’t continue. Instead of looking for a way to fix it, he repeats the eponymous line ‘its too late’, underlining he is done trying to make it work. Perhaps King is reflecting on her recent divorce with Gerry Goffin . The speaker uses the pronoun ‘we’ conveying that the effort was not one sided, they both attempted to revive what ‘has died’. He identifies with being a ‘fool’ showing that he is faking his happiness within the relationship, but also there is guilt to his partner’s unhappiness – potentially blaming himself for staying for so long. He concludes in a similar way to ‘So Far Away’, claiming that there is still love to be experienced for each of them only it is not with each other. He pleads ‘don’t you feel it too’ , almost convincing her that these feelings are not one sided. There is no regret to their ending – it was a constructive experience to be able to ‘love’ the way he ‘once’ did. We listeners may come to think that not all endings are bad endings, but rather it is necessary to push us onto new beginnings.
​
‘Home again’ weeps a similar yearning. Here the speaker looks to come home to a person rather than a place. Like many of us who have moved away from home, the speaker in the song conceptualises home, not as a physical place but rather as the people we look for when things fall apart. The speaker starts by saying she ‘need[s] someone’ highlighting that he has become a necessity in her life. Without him she is exposed to the ‘snow’ and ‘rain’ which reflects her feelings of sorrow, as the natural world becomes a mirror for her own stormy disposition. The yearning she feels when he’s gone ‘chills her soul right to the marrow’ underlining that her love for him is at her very core, biologically in the centre of her very structure as a person. She ends with ‘I wanna be home’ highlighting its superficiality – whilst she needs a physical home, she only wants him. For it is only him who knows how to ‘comfort’ her in times of need. Here the speaker presents the more possessive or addicting side of love, whether it stems from a place of worry or comfort, it underlines how emotionally tenuous it is to be away from someone you love.
​
King not only writes of romantic connections but understands the importance of friendship.Whilst ‘You’ve Got a Friend’ can be interpreted at a most basic line for homosocial relationships and companionship, it can be argued that this song depicts the love that still stands between two people who are no longer romantically together. Whilst their physical love has passed, they still care for one another and will ‘come runnin’ to help them if asked. This is confirmed by the endearing term ‘baby’, highlighting their intimacy for one another. This is a comforting thought that the love we once had for someone is never truly lost.
​
In the same vein, King writes of independence. ‘A Way Over Yonder’ appears to be almost a second part to ‘Home Again’, where rather than a person coming back to her, she is autonomous - ‘bound’ for a better place. A place of ease where she is no longer ‘hungry’, or in other words yearning for someone who has left her in the ‘cold’. The declarative ‘I know’ emphasises her newfound confidence and certainty. There is an almost religious image of the ‘sun …shining right down on me’ creating a blissful prelapsarian image where the speaker provides her own warmth. She is in the spotlight of the sun, placing herself above all others, suggesting she has reached self-actualisation. She emancipates herself from the personified ‘trouble’ and ‘worry’, thus escaping the control from others who have negatively impacted her life. She is free from these emotions, leaving her at ‘peace’. She declares this place is a ‘garden of wisdom’ connoting the biblical garden of Eden, which she can enter now she has cleansed herself of trouble and worry. She intends to independently ‘find [her] way’, utilising her autonomy. This prevails feminist themes of the 1970s, pushing women to be comfortable and self-sufficient on their own. The idyllic image of ‘honey runs in the rivers’ exasperates this image of perfection and highlights the sweetness in nature and in freeing oneself. This highlights that a man is not essential for one to anchor themselves in society or make themselves whole.
​
King’s lyrics are not simply love songs or break up ballads but verbalise emotions which are universally felt across all generations. King herself faced many trials and tribulations when it came to relationships, marrying and divorcing four times (Gerry Goffin, Charles Larkey, Rick Evers, and Rick Sorenson). King wrote in her 2012 autobiography. ‘I was simply writing about my life.’ With her personal experience she weaves a tapestry of experiences, from companionship, self-love, romance and loss in an attempt to open her listener’s arms to love’s instability. It is a symbol of warmth and comfort in turbulent times and there is great power in her relentless willingness to sit in a liminal space of uncertainty. Whilst there is no clear chronology, King offers us multiple perspectives of love, like her ‘Tapestry’ which has an ‘everchanging view’, to emphasise the chaos of love and its erratic nature.
​
The album cradles its listener, rocking back and forth, through the ups and downs of love. The bare resounding voice of Carol King seeps into the cracks and corners of your childhood kitchen, weaving up the bannister to your teenage bedroom and absorbs into the wooden floorboards of your heart like rays of escaping sunshine. In the next room, slightly later in life, your parents hear the same chords leaning into its kind resolve. Meanwhile, laughter beckons downstairs as your own kids wander naively into their own lives. Tapestry is indeed woven into all of us. And I will carry it with me till the words lose their meaning.