Today’s classic song of the day is an unusual one from legendary crooner Frank Sinatra. It’s “The Train,” the final cut from Mr. Sinatra’s oft-forgotten Watertown album, and it’s killer.
Watertown was a concept album, released in 1970, that told the story of a guy in a smallish commuter town whose wife left him and their two boys to run away to the big city. It was a much different piece of work than anything else Mr. Sinatra recorded, and it called on him to act a part much different from his normal persona. The album was somewhat of a failure at the time but has since been reevaluated as something close to a masterpiece and one of Sinatra’s best pieces of work, especially in the modern era.
All the songs on the album were written by Bob Gaudio and Jake Holmes. You probably know Mr. Gaudio as one of the Four Seasons and the writer of songs like “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” “Bye, Bye, Baby (Baby Goodbye),” “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You,” “Dawn (Go Away),” “December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night),” “Rag Doll,” “Ronnie,” “Sherry,” “Walk Like a Man,” and “Who Loves You” for that group, as well as “Silence is Golden” for the Tremeloes and “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine (Anymore)” for the Walker Brothers. Mr. Holmes was also a veteran songwriter, responsible for tunes as diverse as Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused” and the “I’m a Pepper” Dr. Pepper jingle.
In addition to co-writing all the songs on the album, Gaudio also produced all the tracks. It was Sinatra’s only album where he did not record his vocals live, alongside an orchestra; the instrumental tracks were recorded first, then Frank cut his vocal tracks later.
How exactly did Watertown, a true departure for Mr. Sinatra, come about? It all started with a recommendation from the Four Seasons’ Frankie Valli, which spurred Mr. Sinatra to ask Mr. Gaudio to write a concept album for him. As Mr. Gaudio recalls:
“Jake and I tried to picture some place he hadn’t been musically or lyrically. That, for us, was the story of someone whose wife left him, and he was bringing up the kids in a small town.”
Throughout the ten songs on the album, we follow the narrator as he talks about his small town, his wife, and his life. In “Goodbye (She Quietly Says)” he recalls the day they broke up, an event without histrionics or sentimentality:
There is no great big ending
No sunset in the sky
There is no string ensemble
And she doesn’t even cry
And just as I begin to say
That we should make another try
She reaches out across the table
Looks at me and quietly says goodbye
“Michael and Peter” finds the narrator writing his wife to tell her about what’s been happening in her absence, especially the lives of their two sons:
Michael is you, he has your face
He still has your eyes, remember
Peter is me, ‘cept when he smiles
And if you look at them both for a while
You can see they are you, they are me
This leads us to “She Says,” which recounts the wife’s (short) letters home, ending with the news that she’s coming home—although his children seem somewhat skeptical (“So she says,” they echo in response):
She says she’s sleeping well
She says she’s lost some weight
She says she’s seen some shows
She says the city’s strange
(So she says)
She says the weather’s cold
She says there’s been some rain
She says there’s lots to see
She says she hopes we’re fine
(So she says)
The price is high
High as the sky
And she says
She says
She’s comin’ home
“The Train” is the last song on the album. In this one, Sinatra’s character waits at the Watertown train station for his wife to return home, his spirits bright and hopeful. He goes over in his mind everything that’s changed since she left and what he wants to say to her. Only at the end of the song do we realize that she wasn’t on the train at all, leaving the man standing in the rain, alone:
I wrote so many times and more
But the letters still are lying in my drawer
Cause the morning mail had left some time before
All the passengers for Allentown wait closer to the track
It’s hard for me to realize you’re really coming back
The crossing gate is coming down, I think I see the train
The sun has gone and now my face is wet with heavy rain
The passengers for Allentown are gone, the train is slowly moving on
But I can’t see you any place and I know for sure I’d recognize your face
And I know for sure I’d recognize your face
“The Train” is a heartrending song, and Mr. Sinatra pulls it off in a way you never would have imagined. It’s a remarkable—and remarkably touching—piece of work, the perfect ending to a damned near perfect album.
If you haven’t heard that album, and you probably haven’t, you should give Watertown a listen. Even if you’re not a Sinatra fan, I think you’ll find it something special. This is not the swingin’ Frank Sinatra of the ’50s or the supremely confident pro of the ’60s and beyond; this is Frank Sinatra finding a whole other level of grief, defeat, and sometimes hope.
Watertown is a sad and melancholy album, much different than Sinatra’s other work, but one that he knocks out of the park. This one will leave you stunned, trying to catch your breath, appreciating all that you have because tomorrow it all might be gone.
That’s Watertown, and it’s one of Frank Sinatra’s best.
