This week’s song was suggested by a reader. Thanks, Drew!
For years, driving the 2-hour stretch of highway between my house and my parents’ house, I would pass over a road so serene and inviting that I would make a private promise to explore it some day.
It was called Shelter Valley Road.
Shelter Valley Road was marked by a simple green sign on the side of the highway, which I always found strange considering there was no exit; why would anyone need to know of the road’s existence if it was impossible to reach from the highway? You couldn’t even see Shelter Valley Road from the highway.
The valley itself wasn’t grand enough for the highway to require a bridge to cross it – earth had been piled up in a kind of berm on top of which the highway sat, and tunnels dug beneath it so that Shelter Valley road and the creek whose path it traced could pass underneath – but that almost made it more mysterious. With no bridge to attract attention, a slight dip in elevation and that innocuous green sign, you could easily zip past without fully realizing you’d just gone over a valley or a road. And yet the sign was there, and I’d look at it and wonder about it every time.
For reasons that are too complicated and boring to mention, I finally got the chance to drive down Shelter Valley Road. I tried not to get too excited; after all, I knew it wasn’t going to be a breathtaking valley, and the weather was typical of that early-November window when the leaves have all fallen but have yet to be replaced by a pretty blanket of snow.
And in truth, it wasn’t overly special. The term “valley” is maybe even a bit generous. It’s an impressive ravine, but a bit wimpy for a valley.
Still, I liked it. And when I came to the tunnel that passes underneath the highway, I stopped for a moment and got out of the car. There was a weird echo of white noise, probably from the highway above, that bounced around inside the arched tunnel. It was oddly satisfying, like being underneath the bleachers at a stadium, hearing the cheers of the people above, knowing that they don’t know you’re there.
Shelter Valley Road is a public thoroughfare, but for a minute it felt as private as if I’d paved it myself.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. The production is airy and ethereal, with reverb everywhere and snare drums that echo into the distance.
2. By contrast, the voice is quiet and close. Singer Zoë Johnston recorded an early demo of this song in her bedroom, and when Bent’s Simon Mills heard it, he immediately asked her to re-record it for the band’s upcoming debut record.
3. As the track fades out, a sample floats by that’s noticeably out of key with the rest of the song. Normally I would find this annoying, but it sounds a bit like a far-off car horn that you might hear as you stand in a tunnel underneath a highway… so I’ll let it pass.
Recommended listening activity:
Taking a detour.