Jim Croce's ballad is never an easy listen for me, especially now as I think of major life changes coming in the short term.
I have two minds about how I've used my time during spring break. On the one hand, I've had a lot of down time at home, which I could have used going out and doing more for myself. On the other hand, I've spent a lot of that time at home valuably, taking advantage of the time I have with my family.
With full-time working life looming over my shoulder, I've certainly been looking in that direction... but I've also attempted to really value any and all forms of family time I can get, because it won't be too long before that's out of the realm of reasonability. Soon enough, I'll be living on my own, and I anticipate being a distance away from where I currently am. (It would probably be good for me too, so that I could really learn to be more self-reliant, but that's not a conversation for this space.)
Few songs deal with the passage of time and the inevitability of life moving on like Jim Croce's "Time in a Bottle." It's as honest a folk ballad as they come, driven by two guitars and Croce's voice at his most tender, that speaks of the desire to relive the good moments forever with someone special. Given where I am in life, I think of the subject as being more collective, as I channel my feelings of "you" into my family, both immediate and extended.
"Time in a Bottle" demonstrates the mastery of Croce and his guitarist/songwriter friend and collaborator Maury Muehleisen. The duo are in lock step throughout the song, their lines weaving in and out of each other to create a counterpoint-like web of guitar that's active, yet easy to follow in terms of its contour. Producer Tommy West supplemented the guitar backing with an electric bass which plays softly in the second half of the track, as well as a harpsichord, which offers a bright tone that sits atop the guitars and helps define the contour of the instrumental. I wonder if, subconsciously, the harpsichord also has the effect of making me think more of counterpoint through its prominence in Baroque music. *shrugs* Who knows?
The various string instruments combine to form a soft instrumental that, in its recurring descent, adds to the clear pain in Croce's lyrical contemplation. He sings about if he "could save time in a bottle," all the while knowing it's impossible. Time will beat us all in the end, forcing us to move on with our lives before we've done everything we've hoped to do. The shift to the parallel major key in the chorus may indicate a slight level of acceptance about it all... or it may just be a façade amid the heartbreak of knowing even the best of times won't last. I tend to think it's the former, especially with the way Croce ends the chorus: "I've looked around enough to know / That you're the one I want to go through time with." There may not be enough time to do everything you want to do, but if you have the right person or people at your side, you'll still enjoy the time you have. Right now, that's how I feel about being at home with my family. Things aren't always the easiest or the happiest with them, but the love we have for each other prevails and leaves us valuing the time we have together.
"Time in a Bottle" is a song to which I've frequently returned this year in my various stints back on the Peninsula, because the way Jim Croce approaches the passage of time hits close to my heart as I think about what may lie next for me. When I listen to it, I get quite philosophical about it, not only because of how I personally hear it, but also because of its legacy as it relates to the life of the musicians who made it. A year after the song's release on You Don't Mess Around with Jim (1972), Croce, Muehleisen, and four others were killed in a plane crash in Louisiana. Aged just 30, Jim Croce was poised to be a star for decades to come, but his life was cut short, and "Time in a Bottle" became a song associated with the pain of mortality in tragedy's wake. As a result, I think of what I want to accomplish and the way I want to be remembered... and I'm left with the unsatisfying, two-pronged reality that 1) I likely won't be able to reach all my goals, and 2) I'll have to move away from the people I love to get close to most of them. And you wonder why I'm spending so much time with my family now while I have the chance.