McCorkle was born in Berkeley, California. She studied modern languages at the University of California, Berkeley. McCorkle began singing professionally after hearing recordings of Billie Holiday in Paris in the late 1960s. She nearly became an interpreter at the European Commission in Brussels, but moved instead to London in 1972 to pursue a career in singing. While in the UK, she made two albums which, although well received, enjoyed only limited circulation.
In the late 1970s, McCorkle returned to the United States and settled in New York City, where a five-month engagement at the Cookery in Greenwich Village brought her to wider public attention and elicited rave reviews from critics.
During the 1980s, McCorkle continued to record; her maturing style and the darkening timbre of her voice greatly enhanced her performances. In the early 1990s, two of the albums McCorkle made for Concord Records, No More Blues and Sábia, were enormously successful and made her name known to the wider world. She was recorded by the Smithsonian Institution which at the time made her the youngest singer ever to have been included in its popular music series. McCorkle played Lincoln Center's Avery Fisher and Alice Tully Halls five times and Carnegie Hall three times, and was featured soloist with Skitch Henderson and the 80-piece New York Pops in a concert of Brazilian music.
Thanks to her linguistic skills, McCorkle translated lyrics of Brazilian, French, and Italian songs, notably those for her Brazilian album Sabia. McCorkle also had several short stories published and, in 1991, began work on her first novel. She published fiction in Mademoiselle, Cosmopolitan Magazine, and non-fiction in the New York Times Magazine and in American Heritage, including lengthy articles on Ethel Waters, Bessie Smith, Irving Berlin and Mae West.
McCorkle suffered for many years from depression and cancer, and took her own life at age 55 by leaping off the balcony of her highrise Manhattan apartment. She was alone in her home at the time. The police immediately entered her home after identifying her body and found no foul play. Suicide was ruled the cause of death.
By The Time I Get To Phoenix
Susannah McCorkle Lyrics
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She'll find the note I left hangin' on her door
She'll laugh when she reads the part that says I'm leavin'
Cause I've left that girl so many times before.
By the time I make Albuquerque she'll be working
She'll probably stop at lunch and give me a call
But she'll just hear that phone keep on ringin'
By the time I make Oklahoma she'll be sleepin'
She'll turn softly and call my name out low
And she'll cry just to think I'd really leave her
Tho' time and time I try to tell her so
She just didn't know I would really go.
The above lyrics from Susannah McCorkle's song, By The Time I Get To Phoenix, tells the story of a man who is leaving his lover and his unsuccessful attempts to leave her before. The song begins with the singer's departure from Phoenix, his lover's hometown. He knows that by the time he reaches Phoenix, his lover would have read a note he left for her on her door. The note says he is leaving her, but she will probably laugh it off because he has left her so many times before.
As he moves further and reaches Albuquerque, he expects his lover to call him during her lunch break, but he knows it won't happen. He imagines the phone ringing off the wall. By the time he gets to Oklahoma, his lover would have gone to sleep, but he expects her to turn softly and call out his name. However, he knows that when she realizes he's gone, she will cry because she did not believe he would really leave her.
The song portrays the complexities of leaving someone you still love and the impact it has on that person. The singer knows that his lover does not believe he will leave her, and he tries to convince her otherwise, but it seems like nothing he does or say would change her mind.
Line by Line Meaning
By the time I get to Phoenix she'll be rising
When I reach Phoenix, it will already be time for the sun to rise, and she will be waking up to find the note I left on her door.
She'll find the note I left hangin' on her door
I left a note on her door, letting her know that I am leaving her.
She'll laugh when she reads the part that says I'm leavin'
When she reads the note, she will laugh at the fact that I am leaving her, as I have done so many times before.
Cause I've left that girl so many times before.
I have a history of leaving this girl, so she won't be surprised that I am doing it again.
By the time I make Albuquerque she'll be working
By the time I reach Albuquerque, she will be at work, but she might be willing to call me during her lunch break.
She'll probably stop at lunch and give me a call
She might take a break during lunch and call me, although she might not be able to get through to me.
But she'll just hear that phone keep on ringin'
If she tries to call me, the phone will keep ringing without any answer, which will make her feel alone.
Off the wall that's all.
The phone will continue to ring without an answer, which will make her feel abandoned and alone.
By the time I make Oklahoma she'll be sleepin'
When I reach Oklahoma, she will be sleeping, and she might call out my name in her sleep.
She'll turn softly and call my name out low
In her sleep, she might call out my name softly, which makes me feel guilty for leaving her.
And she'll cry just to think I'd really leave her
She might cry when she wakes up, thinking that I have really left her this time.
Tho' time and time I try to tell her so
Even though I have tried to reassure her that I am not really leaving, she still worries that I might.
She just didn't know I would really go.
Despite my assurances that I wouldn't leave her, she didn't believe me, and now she is overwhelmed with sadness because I have really left her.
Contributed by Caroline M. Suggest a correction in the comments below.