The Meaning Of: BROTHER SHE'S GONE
Crissi Cochrane
Welcome back to The Meaning Of, a series of blog posts exploring the meaning behind each song from my 2020 album, Heirloom. I’ll explain the stories that inspired the songs, and reveal some of the roots and references that helped shape my musical and lyrical choices. If there’s something particular that you’re curious about that I haven’t revealed, leave me a question in the comments below, and I’ll be pleased to answer it.
The next song in the series is Brother She’s Gone. (I apologize for taking so long to get this series done! We are in the home stretch now - only three more tunes left after this one!)
The initial idea for this song was sparked by Hillary Clinton. I remember seeing her photo on the cover of a magazine while on a flight to Cuba for my honeymoon in March of 2016. When we returned to Windsor, I held on to that feeling of pride that I’d felt upon seeing Hillary’s confident mug on that glossy magazine cover. I think I had, even then, a gathering sense in the back of my mind that Hillary wasn’t the perfect idol that she seemed (in the following months, I’d learn that she was a war-mongerer, that she would offer nothing to help the struggling middle class, and would vehemently oppose Medicare For All, gleefully shouting that it “would NEVER pass”) but I was a bit stubborn, and felt like holding on to the great promise of a possible female presidency. While “Brother She’s Gone” touches on so many other stories, and is inspired by so many great women, it now, in my heart has absolutely nothing to do with Hillary, though it did begin with her.
I wanted to write this song to express the need for women in power, to be visible authorities, to help a world that desperately needs help. I was donating to the Malala Fund, becoming aware of how many girls around the world are not being educated, and reading Sheryl Sandberg’s “Lean In”, despairing at how much humanity’s progress is hampered by the fact that half of the world is, to varying degrees, discouraged from actively participating in finding solutions for our problems.
So, I wrote this song to be about a fictional every-woman who needs to be set free to be a part of progress, and specifically, I wrote the chorus as a consolation for the man that she’s leaving behind - Brother, she’s gone - don’t know where to, don’t know how long - because it’s often our feelings of responsibility to our husbands and families (or, in many parts of the world, men simply objecting) that holds women back. Funny enough, just today, I came across an excellent article by Brigid Schulte in the Guardian about how women are often responsible for ensuring that men have long, interrupted stretches of time in order to nurture their creative genius, while women on average manage only 10 minutes of uninterrupted leisure time at a stretch. Schulte says, “I feel such a sense of loss when I think of the great, unwritten poems that took a backseat to polished floors.” I feel the same, but I think also of the medical advancements, the progressive policies, the lives that could have been saved, had more women been encouraged to participate.
The first verse of the song is dense with references, so let’s dive in. (Honestly, the reason why I wanted to do this series was because of songs like this!)
The opening words, we’re living in a world without end, are a nod to the hymn Gloria Patri, that closes with the words “world without end, amen”. I first heard it in the BBC period drama Call The Midwife, sung by the nuns in the show. I’ve often been fascinated by the lives of nuns - St. Therese of Lisieux partly inspired the title of my 2014 album Little Sway with her philosophy of the “little way” - and this idea of a world without end felt very real to me. I was struggling with my anxiety, and what aspects of it I was willing to share online, afraid that I would lose control of my narrative, and have it be forever preserved online - they tell our stories to forever.
At the time I was writing this song, Edward Snowden was making headlines as a whistleblower, revealing that the NSA had been spying on everyday Americans. Fast-forward a few years later, and we don’t even think twice about the fact that our iPhones mysteriously advertise products that we’ve only ever spoken about aloud, and we actually pay money for smart speakers that are constantly listening to us all of the time. But at that moment, it was a revelation, that nothing we did was private - We’ve got no secrets anymore. They make the keys for every door.
Next up - You’ve got a lady ambition bird - is a nod to the poem, “The Ambition Bird” by Anne Sexton. I was devouring poetry at this time, trying to find things I loved as much as I did Sylvia Plath. I felt like this poem perfectly captured the frenzied madness of ambition, of wanting to create, to contribute. The few lines I loved the most:
All night dark wings
flopping in my heart.
Each an ambition bird.The bird wants to be dropped
from a high place like Tallahatchie Bridge.He wants to light a kitchen match
and immolate himself.He wants to fly into the hand of Michelangelo
and come out painted on a ceiling.
The first verse ends - she wants to see everything made new - by commandeering another piece of religious phraseology to serve my own feminist message. “Everything made new” were words I heard once again in the chapel scenes of Call The Midwife, but I repurposed them for my female character envisioning a world made new, with all people contributing to humanity’s accomplishments. I was thinking also about how common it was for women to quit their jobs as soon as they became married women - she’s got work to do.
When I reach the second verse, I think specifically of a few strong women that I know and admire. I think of the progressive champion Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez; I think of my poet friend Vanessa Shields. She heard her calling and she must reply. So many souls need an answer.
I especially love these words: it doesn’t matter if you don’t approve - give her your love, make her strong. She does not need your permission to go out and do her thing. Just support her and be there for her, even if you don’t agree - you have to let her go. You can only hold her for so long. That’s also a nod to the song “He Can Only Hold Her” by Amy Winehouse, a song about a woman who suffers quietly. I also think of my daughter when I sing those words. I can only hold her for so long. Eventually, I’ll have to let her go. It’s bittersweet.
One last thing I want to note, is that I made an important revision to this song prior to recording it. In the choruses where I sing “Brother, so long”, I used to sing “Brother, be strong”. Over time, I became very uncomfortable with lyrically telling men to be strong - an essential part of feminism is encouraging men to embrace all of their emotions, and dispel the negative, limiting expectation that men be always strong and stoic. Telling men to be strong felt like telling women to be weak. It just reinforced negative gender stereotypes, and I knew in my heart that this was completely, utterly backwards. I still left in one “brother, be strong” in the bridge, but I felt MUCH better when I wasn’t singing it repetitively anymore. I wanted it to simply be a few words of support, not a problematic (and possibly insulting) order.
BROTHER SHE’S GONE - CRISSI COCHRANE
We're living in a world without end
They tell our stories to forever
We've got no secrets anymore
They make the keys for every door
You've got a lady ambition bird
She wants to see everything made new
She's got work to do
Ooh, brother, she's gone
Don't know where to, don't know how long
Ooh, brother, so long
She's gone
She heard her calling and she must reply
So many souls need an answer
She knows the dark under the sun
She sees the good in everyone
Don't try to stop her now, she's on the move
It doesn't matter if you don't approve
Give her your love, make her strong
You can only hold her for so long
Ooh, brother, she's gone
Don't know where to, don't know how long
Ooh, brother, so long
She's gone
Ooh, brother, she's gone
Ooh, brother, she's gone
Ooh, brother, she's gone
You've got to be strong
Hey, brother, she's gone
Don't know where to, don't know how long
Ooh, brother, so long
She's gone
LEARN HOW TO PLAY THIS SONG >
LIKE WHAT YOU HEAR? BUY IT ON CD OR DIGITAL DOWNLOAD
Or find it on your favourite streaming platform here.