Late Night Confessions

Some songs I build. This one I mostly transcribed.

"Late Night Confessions" came out of the hour that only exists after everybody sensible has gone home — when the music's turned down, the crowd has thinned to the stubborn few, and people start saying true things they wouldn't say at nine o'clock. You've been in that conversation. Somebody tells you something they've never told anybody, and you're not entirely sure they'll remember it tomorrow, and you decide to carry it for them either way.

I wanted the song to sit in that hour without judging it. It's easy to write that scene as a warning — the sad late-night bar, the drink too many. That's not what I've found there. What I've found is that people are more honest at one in the morning than at any other time you'll get with them, and it's a small privilege to be the one still awake.

Musically it stays low and unhurried on purpose. Nothing in it hurries, because nothing at that hour does.

It's one of the quieter things in the catalog and it tends to find people one at a time rather than all at once, which feels about right for a song about a conversation with one other person.

If you've been that person for somebody — the one who stayed up and listened — this one's for you.