#10: Under the hood of Tracy Chapman's 'Fast Car'
Chapman's 1988 hit from her debut album is having a moment — but it's not even the first comeback in the song's lifetime.
In a night full of album releases, hold-your-breath-when-they-speak speeches and most importantly women, the 2024 Grammys may have just succeeded in commanding the public’s attention in a way the waning award show has meaningfully failed to do in years.
The producers certainly spared no expense pulling out all the stops, with a roster of performances of music legends both old and new jamming the bill. Some personal highlights were Miley’s childlike glee winning her first Grammy, SZA debuting her new song “Saturn” (only after an equally heartwarming speech for winning Best R&B Song,) and of course, Joni freaking Mitchell.
But the most breathtaking moment was undoubtedly Tracy Chapman’s return to the public eye to join country star Luke Combs in singing “Fast Car.” I audibly gasped as the camera zoomed in to reveal a shot of her hand strumming the guitar. No way, that can actually be her? I thought. A notoriously private person - the legendary American folk singer hasn’t done a public tour since 2009.
The moving performance (which I’m grateful wasn’t used ahead of time as clickbait) has continued to pour lighter fluid on the song’s renaissance, letting it shine bright well into 2024.
Just this morning, Chapman’s “Fast Car” shot up to No. 1 on the iTunes charts, as well as her debut album, Tracy Chapman.
Certainly, a lot of this newfound popularity can be attributed to Combs’ cover of “Fast Car,” which he released on his fourth studio album Gettin Old in 2023. His twangified version of the 1988 song has racked up an impressive 370 million streams on Spotify, making it far and away the most listened-to track off his album.
This summer, Combs’ cover catapulted up the Billboard Country Music charts, bringing Chapman up with him. In November, “Fast Car” won a Country Music Award for Song of the Year - making Chapman the first Black woman ever to receive one from the association.
When Combs was asked in an interview why he chose to record “Fast Car” for the album he said:
It’s one of the first songs I ever remember hearing riding around in the truck with my dad. I was probably, oh gosh I don’t know, five years old. And he had that album on cassette tape and that song has just always been a big part of my life ever since.
As fate would have it, “Fast Car“ has also long been one of my Special Songs™. You know, the ones you keep close to your chest, the ones you’ve listened to so many times they start to feel worn in like a favorite pair of jeans.
For so many, “Fast Car” is one of those songs that’s always been there, kind of ever-present and floating in the background of my memories. Listening to gives the same feeling as driving 20 over the speed limit down your favorite empty, hometown road at midnight. It has a depth of bottomless possibility when listening to it — like the world is yours and yours alone.
And now with another boost of critical acclaim for Combs and his cover of the song, and an entire new generation of fans getting exposed to Chapman’s music, I wanted to shine a spotlight on the woman herself, who I think is one of the most brilliant songwriters of all time.
Tracy Chapman is a Black, Queer woman who grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, went to school in Boston and exploded onto the folk music scene in the late 80s with a very not-80s sounding hit. Amidst the electronic sounds and monotonous synths that came to define the decade, “Fast Car” stood out as a socially conscious acoustic ballad, drawing attention to people and places whose stories weren’t often in the spotlight.
So I want to pick apart the origin of “Fast Car” and shed a little light on who the song’s characters might be and in true Music & Beans fashion, hopefully share a story about the song you haven’t heard before (or maybe just forgot about.)
The Story of Fast Car
I.
If you happened to be surfing through radio channels in Medford, Massachusetts in the late 80s, you might have stumbled upon an early, acoustic version of “Fast Car.”
WMFO was, and still is, a freeform radio station licensed and owned by Tufts University and is run entirely by its students. It prides itself on being one of the only radio stations in the Boston area to let its DJs have complete freedom over the sets they play.
One of those musically inclined students was Tracy Chapman, and between a double major in Anthropology and African Studies, volunteer DJ sets at WMFO and lending her voice to protests, she somehow found the time to craft the lyrics and melodies to what would become her self-titled debut album that year.
When it came to “Fast Car,” Chapman wrote the track late one evening in 1986.
“I had a small dog, a Miniature Dachshund, and she was staying up late with me,” she told the BBC back in 2010. “She didn’t always stay up if I did, but she was sitting on the couch right next to me when I first started writing the music and the first few lyrics. The first part of the song that came to me was the first line ‘You’ve got a fast car…’ With that, her ears pricked up. I knew I was onto a winner.”
The lyrics kept on flowing until she had a complete song in her hands. By the end, she had a ballad about a pair of two star-crossed lovers, burdened by poverty and fueled by the tantalizing fantasy of escaping from their current world — speeding away into a new life in their treasured luxury: a fast car.
You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so we can fly away?
Still gotta make a decision
Leave tonight, or live and die this way
With how real the protagonists in her song feel, you might think it’s biographic. But the inspiration for Chapman’s songs didn’t come from her direct experience per se, but rather the world as she saw it growing up in a working-class neighborhood in Cleveland, Ohio.
It was here where Chapman says her single mom raised her among “a community of people who were struggling”, where everyone was “working hard” and “hoping that things would get better,” just as the characters in the song tell it.
I'd always hoped for better
Thought maybe together, you and me'd find it
I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere
So take your fast car and keep on drivin'
When she had a few songs under her belt, Chapman started to sing her tracks all over town – at local cafes and in Harvard Square. She eventually drew the attention of a well-connected classmate of hers, Brian Koppelman. He recalls how he went to see Chapman perform at a local coffeehouse called Cappucino. “I was helping organize a boycott protest against apartheid at school, and someone told me there was this great protest singer I should get to play at the rally. Tracy walked onstage, and it was like an epiphany,” he said. “Her presence, her voice, her songs, her sincerity — it all came across.”
Koppelman was so blown away by the performance, that he allegedly snuck into WMFO, distracting the DJ long enough to steal a demo tape of Chapman’s “Talking Bout a Revolution” to give to his father — the music executive Charles Koppelman.
His dad flew out to hear her play immediately and signed her to Elektra Records shortly after. A (reluctant) star was born.
II.
Staring out into a sea of 90,000 concert-goers, the crowd at Wembley Stadium blurred together and thundered back at her with a din roar.
Chapman was on stage, gripping her guitar. Just two months after her self-titled album debuted, she was invited to perform a three-song set for Nelson Mandela’s 70th Birthday Tribute in 1988. She included “Talking Bout Revolution,” now a well-known protest anthem, which was apt for the occasion. But she didn’t include “Fast Car.”
Stevie Wonder was all set to perform later in the day, but call it an act of luck, fate or a just timely coincidence, a computer disk in his keyboard sounds went missing — and with the show being broadcast live on television around the world — he was unable to go on.
Producers scrambled to fill the gap and called on Chapman to do a second set. With just a guitar and a microphone, Chapman’s bare-bones ensemble was the ideal choice to keep the show on the road.
This time she sang two songs: “Across the Lines” and “Fast Car.” The latter had an enchanting effect on the crowd. They were hanging on every minute, saving thunderous applause until the very last note. It was this accidental performance that sealed the deal for Chapman’s celebrity status. Now a true star was born.
In the first two months following the album release, her self-titled debut found relative success (she sold 250,000 copies.) Two weeks after the tribute concert, that number jumped to two million. “Fast Car” became one of the album’s crown jewels, and it continued to climb the charts, earning a No. 6 spot on the Billboard Hot 100 after that day and went on to be certified six times platinum. “Fast Car” went on to inspire a long line of pop artists paying tribute to the folk anthem, (a list that includes Justin Bieber, Sam Smith and Khalid) before Combs released his version.
It’s hard to pinpoint the exact reason which made Combs’ cover so successful, the romantic in me thinks the world was just ready for a raw and genuine song about hope. With all the light and noise that goes on both in and outside our heads, “Fast Car” feels like a soothing relief. A reminder of how simple songs can be, but how important they can make you feel.
As Combs’ cover continues to make its rounds on TikTok and climb the charts, I’m smiling for Chapman and this new wave of adoration she is receiving. But I also find myself thinking of the outside forces that seemed to grab Chapman and pull toward the spotlight in the first place. It’s not something she relishes: “Being in the public eye and under the glare of the spotlight was, and it still is, to some extent, uncomfortable for me,” she says. While it’s easy to look at the two strokes of fate that propelled Chapman into the forefront of the American music scene – for a Black, Queer woman, this must’ve felt terrifying in hindsight. But aside from her courage to meet her moment where it was at, her narrative was still out of her control, a right that modern musicians continue to remind us is essential to an artist’s identity.
This isn’t a knock on Combs, who like so many of us, had an emotional connection with a favorite song that he wanted to share with the world. It’s always a beautiful thing for artists to continue to be recognized for their work and their talent and to reach new audiences. But while stepping out onto the Grammy stage last night was well in Chapman’s control, the story of “Fast Car’s” 21st-century revival would feel incomplete without acknowledging yet another instance of Chapman’s songs and memories being thrust into the public sphere for a third time — without her permission being asked if she wanted to be there in the first place.
Bits and bops
Speaking of Grammy moments, I’m still remembering the life of Sinead O’Connor, the rebellious Irish singer who passed away at age 56 in 2023, and who Annie Lennox honored with a tribute to artists who passed in 2023. Lennox ended her portion with a call for a ceasefire in Gaza, and whether you agree or disagree here one thing is for certain – it’s exactly what Sinead would do.
Keeping this rebellious streak — Phoebe Bridgers called out ex-Grammy CEO Neil Portnow (who is being sued for a heinous sexual assault) to “rot in piss.” retweet.
I’m on my way to Texas this week for a work trip, so getting in the yeehaw mood with this country version of Silk Chiffon from MUNA’s Tiny Desk concert.
That’s all from me this time. A very special shoutout to Chris Ritter, who pushed me to dust off this ancient draft and publish the damn thing. (Your turn.) Hopefully, a lot more exciting music to be covered…watch this space.