Song I Wish I Wrote: Daniel Knox on “One by One” by Connie Converse

I’ve listened to more Daniel Knox songs than any other artist over the last decade. His work has scored my adult existence. Everyone that knows me as more than an acquaintance has at least heard one of his songs in my presence. I’ve also already written thousands of words about his work. If you’re interested in him because of what I’ve said, fantastic. But if you’re not already familiar with his work, I’m afraid that no matter how I praise his output, it will fall on deaf ears. Hopefully this series can pique your interest in multiple artists at once.

This series will possibly shed light on the artists that influenced your favorite artists. At the very least, it might turn you on to some less known work. I wanted to begin it with one of my favorite songwriters. 

Daniel Knox’s newest album, Won’t You Take Me With You, is available for purchase on vinyl and download. His collaboration with Nick_Jones, Coinhammer, is also available for purchase as a download. His Mister Rogers tribute album, You Are My Friend: The Songs of Mister Rogers, is available on cassette and download.

There are plenty of songs I wish I owned the publishing to, but very few I wish I’d actually written myself. It’s just not a feeling I have very often. I like my own songs just fine and don’t feel envious of anyone’s talent that would likely not fit me very well anyhow. 

When I heard Connie Converse’s song “One by One” I felt differently. Not only did it speak to me somehow very directly, but it felt capable of speaking to anyone and everyone. 

It’s a beautiful recording and Connie’s hauntingly unique voice is something special, but I think that you could play “One by One” for someone who lived 1,000 years ago, or even 1,000 years on, and it would resonate with them just as much as it does with me here and now, so long as it was played accurately.

Not that I think universality is a measurement for great songs. No such measurement really exists. We all have affection for some terrible thing that we love just because, or something that seems to be weirdly made just for us. I also don’t think that there is some perfect economy of words one ought to have for a song to be relatable. These things are subjective.

“One by One” works the way it does because its world is as deep or as shallow as you allow it to be. It can be a simple story about walking at night, or it can be the person that you’ve lost, or it’s everyone just trying to find each other and failing. There’s a longing to it like a reflection on the water; close to the surface but also all the way down. Somehow it speaks with the ache of a lost memory returning to you while still feeling familiar and hopeful.

Every song has it’s own world but this one reaches out to become a part of yours rather than imposing itself. The melody is as simple as a nursery rhyme and just as complete. You could add to it but you’d only be taking away. The lyrics are at home in any age, and anyone’s experience.

I’ve written songs that are meaningful to people. Some people. I know this because once in a while someone will reach out and tell me so and it feels like winning an award every single time. Sometimes I write a song that feels like it’s in a language only I could speak, and then, like a message in a bottle, it finds someone and they recognize themself in it.

In 1974 Connie Converse packed her car and drove off never to be heard from again. I wonder what she thought of this song. I wonder if she wrote the words down or typed them. I wonder if it came to her all at once or if she carried around one verse for years waiting for the rest of the words to show up. I wonder if she could’ve imagined people would still be listening to it today. I wonder what you think of it now that you’ve heard it too.

“One by One” by Connie Converse

We go walking in the dark. 
We go walking out at night. 
And it’s not as lovers go, 
Two by two, to and fro; 
But it’s one by one – 
One by one in the dark. 
We go walking out at night. 
As we wander through the grass 
We can hear each other pass, 
But we’re far apart – 
Far apart in the dark. 
We go walking out at night. 
With the grass so dark and tall 
We are lost past recall 
If the moon is down – 
And the moon is down. 
We are walking in the dark. 
If I had your hand in mine 
I could shine, I could shine 
Like the morning sun – Like the sun.

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