Exploring the timeless heartbreak of Joan Baez’s seminal song “Diamonds and Rust” fifty years after its release – and still feeling every lyric.
Stream: “Diamonds and Rust” – Joan Baez
When the ghosts of the past return to haunt us – and they always do – a common reaction is to shove the painful memories into the darkest corners of the mind.
To ignore the ghosts until they go away. But what happens when these memories are held up to the light and examined? What happens when we grit our teeth and sit with feelings that have so long been ignored? Often, art is born when pain is allowed to radiate through us until it crystallizes into beauty. Joan Baez’s beautiful, haunting song “Diamonds and Rust” is just that — a gemstone forged by love lost and pain reignited. Before we dive into what makes this song special, let’s take a closer look at the impressive woman behind it.
Joan Baez is a driving force in American folk music. If you didn’t know her name before (no judgement) you may have become familiar with her after the recent release of the Bob Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown, in which her complicated personal and professional relationship with Dylan was portrayed. Baez was integral to Dylan’s success in early years, having already been a big player in the music scene and one of the first notable musicians to be featured on one of his records. She even brought a then unknown Dylan out to play during one of her sets in the summer of 1963. Their careers were deeply intertwined for the following decades. However, she debuted her career years earlier at the first Newport Folk Festival in 1959, after which she quickly gained popularity. The festival, which is heavily linked to protest and counterculture, was the perfect moment for Baez to appear in the public eye. She is a lifelong activist, having been involved in the Civil Rights movement and attending multiple nonviolent protests organized by Martin Luther King Jr. including the march from Selma to Montgomery in 1965. She has used her platform as a conduit of protest and resistance throughout her career, speaking out in favor of prison reform, LGBTQI+ rights and environmental conservation among many other noble causes. She has been unafraid to speak out against injustice since before she was famous and continues to do so to this day.
Throughout the ’60s, Baez released fourteen albums, becoming the face of the American roots revival and inspiring other notable musicians such as Joni Mitchell and Bonnie Raitt. Her fame increased exponentially in 1969 after appearing at the legendary Woodstock, where “Sweet Sir Galahad” (another wildly beautiful piece) was the only original song she performed during her set. While introducing the song, she tells the audience she is “just smart enough to know her writing is very mediocre.”
It was clear during that performance that her self-depreciation was unjustified, and time would reveal just how far from the truth this statement really was. At this point, she was known primarily for her reinterpretations and adaptations of other artists’ music, but began writing more of her own songs as the 70s ensued. From this artistic evolution sprang her 1975 album Diamonds & Rust; its titular track rising to pop success as a U.S. top forty hit after its release as a single earlier that year.
“Diamonds and Rust” will haunt you in the best way possible. It opens with lilting, folky guitar chords, beckoning you into a world of heartbreak and longing for days that have slipped by. The gentle instrumentals coax you in, drawing you out of your hiding place and into the hazy loveliness of the song. As the cymbal quietly shivers its invitation, you have no choice but to accept. Speaking of haunting, the lyrics embody the feeling the song evokes:
Well, I’ll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that’s not unusual
It’s just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I’d known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall
The song brings you to the precipice, threatening to entrench you in emotions you thought were buried forever. It is both deeply personal and timelessly relatable; simultaneously grounding and lifting the listener into a higher state of consciousness and self-reflection. Like the ghost of a past lover, “Diamonds and Rust” refuses to be forgotten or cast to the side. While the song had been speculated to be about Bob Dylan since its release in 1975, it was not until years later that Baez admitted the truth in an interview. She had been writing a different song entirely until she received a phone call from Dylan (from a booth in the Midwest), causing her to change her artistic course and create this masterpiece. However — while decades-old salacious speculation can be entertaining — the true inspiration is perhaps the least interesting aspect of the song. The beauty of music is taking your own thoughts and experiences and using a song as an emotional sieve; sifting through yourself and making sense of your own life. “Diamonds and Rust” is the perfect song in which to lose yourself and, consequently, find yourself. I digress.
Each lyrical stanza is structured as a rise and fall, as Baez builds up to falsetto and then eases back down to the bottom of her register. The lyrics reflect this fluctuation perfectly; evoking the excitement of recalling a past love before the reality of its failure comes crashing down. The ebb and flow of the stanzas are like musical waves breaking upon the listener one after another, holding them steadily within the trance of the song. The wistful lyrics are intensified by Baez sustaining the note at the end of each line, imbuing the words with a gentle vibrato. The stretching of the terminal syllables reflects the sentiment of lingering feeling; emotion you just cannot seem to shake. The interplay between lyric and form create a fully immersive musical experience; cultivated to perfection without feeling contrived.
Remember when Baez took a shot at her own songwriting? “Diamonds and Rust” is hard proof that she was wrong.
She takes a relatable experience and delicately refines it into beautiful poetry — a feat that is far from “mediocre.” Her songwriting prowess is displayed brilliantly in the bridge of the song:
Now I see you standing
With brown leaves falling all around
And snow in your hair
Now you’re smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square
Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there
Baez deftly sets a scene that the listener can clearly picture in their mind using only a few short lines. She avoids superfluous, fluffy descriptions and cuts to the core of the human experience — but she also avoids being blunt or direct. She traps a moment in amber and lets the emotions speak for themselves. This balance is present in all facets of the song, from the lyrics to the arrangement, all coming together in perfect harmony. It’s a hard tightrope to walk, but Baez makes it look easy.
This song is a testament to the beauty that can be found in pain and the meaning that can be derived from every moment of life. As we look back through time upon a song that looks back even further, the connectedness of the human experience and endurance of the heart can be seen clearly. “Diamonds and Rust” is a reminder that every experience shapes us into who we are today, and we should honor the bad times just as much as the good.
— —
:: connect with Joan Baez here ::
— —
Stream: “Diamonds and Rust” – Joan Baez
— — — —
Connect to Joan Baez on
Facebook, 𝕏, Instagram
Discover new music on Atwood Magazine
© courtesy of the artist
© courtesy of the artist:: Stream Joan Baez ::
