An Apology

I consider "An Apology" the last song on The Fatherless and the Widow, since it's followed only by a reprise of "Trust" that feels frankly unnecessary, like it's only on there to make sure the record has 10 songs on it. I've said before that the last song on a Sixpence album is the record's thesis statement -- the confusion of "I Can't Explain," the triumphant defiance of "Moving On," the melancholy nostalgia of "A Million Parachutes." If we treat the string-quartet version of "Trust" as the actual last song on the record, I'll buy it -- a dark, melancholy take on a hopeful psalm fits Sixpence and the record.

But what does it mean if "An Apology" is the "last song" on this record? I think it makes the record a little lighter, and maybe that's a good thing.

"An Apology" is one of Sixpence's breezier songs, at least from the early part of their career. It's also their first offense in the" Repeat the Verse 1 Lyrics for Verse 2" category (see also: "Within A Room Somewhere," "Tonight"), and the chorus is simple and airy. In fact, it's just not a particularly mature song, which is maybe why I like it so much, and why I think it's good as a final track: most of the Fatherless and the Widow is really heavy for a record made by teenagers. It has a right to be, but I like the idea that the album starts and ends with jangly songs about feelings -- from the giddy love of "Field of Flowers" to the simple mea culpa of this track.

I messed up, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, can we be friends? It wouldn't be an out-of-place sentiment in the church camp context where Matt & Leigh first met and started playing music together. It feels like very little is at stake in the refrain -- "It was a silly thing to say to you, I know" -- but the more it's repeated, the more it sinks in, and the more you realize that these silly little things matter, whether you're a teenager or not.

Also, that final shift to "we know." It feels meaningful, though I can't put my finger on why. Something about moving from the particular to the universal, the individual to the community.