Biography:
Elizabeth Eaton Converse was born in Laconia, New Hampshire in 1924, the middle child of three siblings. She was bookish, the valedictorian her class at Concord High School, and described by most who knew her to be a polymath. She attended Mt. Holyoke College on an academic scholarship beginning in 1942, studied French, and wrote for several campus publications. Read Full BioElizabeth “Connie” Converse disappeared in 1974, leaving behind a haunting body of recorded music that would remain virtually unheard for the next 35 years.
Biography:
Elizabeth Eaton Converse was born in Laconia, New Hampshire in 1924, the middle child of three siblings. She was bookish, the valedictorian her class at Concord High School, and described by most who knew her to be a polymath. She attended Mt. Holyoke College on an academic scholarship beginning in 1942, studied French, and wrote for several campus publications. By 1944 she decided to leave college, at which point the records of her whereabouts are sparse until about 1949, when she made her way to New York City.
There were two major developments during Elizabeth’s time in New York. The first was her procurement of her nickname “Connie.” It is unclear how or why or when exactly, but the name stuck. The second was Connie’s burgeoning interest in playing and writing music, first for guitar and later for piano. No doubt this stemmed from her love of poetry, as many of her earliest songs were poems that she had written and then set to music. The songs became instant hits with her family, and also attracted the attention of animator and amateur recordist Gene Deitch. Beginning around 1954, Connie would make visits to Deitch’s home in Hastings-on-Hudson to record almost 40 songs.
At first listen, Connie’s music seems to keep close company with the female folk artists who were her contemporaries. The knack for plaintive storytelling shares much with Peggy Seeger and Susan Reed. Reed knew Connie’s music well, and performed a set of her songs in 1961 at the Kaufmann Concert Hall in New York. But Connie’s music stands out from that of the American folk revival of the 1950’s. Her fluid and disarmingly intelligent poetry reflects an urban perspective, that of a new New Yorker becoming disenchanted by the bucolic tropes of folk music. She is at once a maverick and a romantic, intellectual and spiritual, a staunch independent and a tender, pining lover.
Over the years Deitch, along with his colleague Bill Bernal, worked to promote Connie’s music, but despite their efforts, the songs remained unheard to all but a few dozen of Connie’s acquaintances. In 1961 Connie tired of New York and left for Ann Arbor, where her brother was a professor at the University of Michigan.
Having dropped out of college seventeen years prior, it came as something of a surprise that, within months of her arrival in Ann Arbor, Connie had implanted herself firmly in the academic community of U-Mich. She began as a secretary at the Center for Research on Conflict Resolution, eventually working her way to Managing Editor and Co-Editor of CRCR’s Journal of Conflict Resolution.
Connie’s work in Ann Arbor left little time for music and, while she still happily played at family gatherings, there is little evidence that she wrote new material. She did, however, continue her attempts to promote her music already extant. Susan Reed, the folk harpist, took an interest in Connie’s work and performed a set of her songs in New York. There were a handful of scores for commercials and some work on a short film. But never the kind of widespread success she had hoped for her music.
Connie became increasingly despondent in the 1970’s, a period she described as her Blue Funk, although her family and friends say they could not detect any outward change in her character. In 1971, she requested an extended leave of absence from CRCR, citing what she saw as her poor performance at work and unspecified medical problems. Her employer responded by organizing a group of Connie’s friends and colleagues to contribute to a pool of money that would allow her to take a six-month sabbatical in England, which she would later describe as one of the only times in her life that she allowed herself to enjoy “unproductive fun.”
In August of 1974, after waiting for the resignation of Richard Nixon, Connie wrote a series of farewell letters to friends and family. She packed up her Volkswagen and disappeared, her whereabouts unknown to this day.
Film maker Andrea Kannes is currently working on a documentary about Connie. More info here: http://connieconversedoc.com/
Talkin' Like You
Connie Converse Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning | Line by Line Meaning
Don't see why they call it lonesome.
I'm never lonesome when I go there.
See that bird sitting on my windowsill - well he's saying whipoorwill all the night through.
See that brook running by my kitchen door - well it couldn't talk no more if it was you.
Up that tree there's sort of a squirrel thing.
Sounds just like we did when we were quarelling.
In the yard I keep a pig or two.
They drop in for dinner like you used to do.
I don't stand in the need of company with everything I see talking like you.
Up that tree there's sort of a squirrel thing.
Sounds just like we did when we were quarelling.
You may think you left me all alone, but I can hear you talk without a telephone.
I don't stand in the need of company with everything I see talking like you.
See that bird sitting on my windowsill.
Well, he's saying whipoorwill all the night through.
Just whipoorwill all the night through.
In between two tall maountains there's a place they call lonesome.
Don't see why they call it lonesome.
I'm never lonesome now I live there.
The song "Talkin' Like You" by Connie Converse is a wistful and reflective piece about finding solace in the natural world after heartbreak. Converse sings about a lonesome place between two tall mountains that everyone else calls "lonesome," but she finds comfort and contentment there. The lyrics describe various elements of nature around her, including a bird that sings "whipoorwill" all night, a brook that runs by her kitchen door, and a tree where a squirrel makes noise that sounds like her and a former lover quarreling. She also mentions keeping pigs in her yard, who drop in for dinner like her former lover used to do.
The overall theme of the song seems to be Converse's ability to find companionship in the natural world around her, even after being abandoned by someone she cared for deeply. The lyrics suggest that she has found peace and contentment in this solitary existence, and that the various sights and sounds of nature that surround her help to calm her mind and provide comfort. The repeated references to the bird singing "whipoorwill" seem to symbolize this idea - that even when we feel completely alone, there is always something (or someone) out there that is speaking to us, if only we listen closely enough.
Overall, "Talkin' Like You" is a beautiful and poignant song that captures the bittersweet feeling of letting go and finding peace in solitude. It is a testament to the powers of nature to heal and comfort even the most broken heart.
Line by Line Meaning
In between two tall mountains there's a place they call lonesome.
There's a place called lonesome between two tall mountains.
Don't see why they call it lonesome.
I don't understand why they call it lonesome.
I'm never lonesome when I go there.
I never feel lonely when I'm there.
See that bird sitting on my windowsill - well he's saying whipoorwill all the night through.
There's a bird on my windowsill that sings 'whipoorwill' every night.
See that brook running by my kitchen door - well it couldn't talk no more if it was you.
There's a brook by my kitchen door that couldn't talk more even if it were you.
Up that tree there's sort of a squirrel thing.
There's a creature on that tree that looks like a squirrel.
Sounds just like we did when we were quarelling.
It sounds like how we used to argue with each other.
In the yard I keep a pig or two.
I have one or two pigs in my yard.
They drop in for dinner like you used to do.
The pigs come to dinner just like you used to do.
I don't stand in the need of company with everything I see talking like you.
I don't need company because everything I see reminds me of you.
You may think you left me all alone, but I can hear you talk without a telephone.
You may think you left me alone, but I can hear your voice even without a phone.
See that bird sitting on my windowsill.
There's a bird on my windowsill.
Well, he's saying whipoorwill all the night through.
It's singing 'whipoorwill' all night long.
Just whipoorwill all the night through.
It only sings 'whipoorwill' all night.
In between two tall mountains there's a place they call lonesome.
There's a place called lonesome between two tall mountains.
Don't see why they call it lonesome.
I don't understand why they call it lonesome.
I'm never lonesome now I live there.
I'm never lonely now that I live there.
Contributed by Emma N. Suggest a correction in the comments below.