I've done hundreds and hundreds of interviews during my career in music journalism, and I can say without equivocation that my recent conversation with Phoebe Snow was about as intimate and confessional as I've ever experienced.
Snow, a singer/songwriter whose first single, the transcendent ballad "Poetry Man" peaked at No. 5 in 1975, had a shot at major stardom. But in December of that year, she gave birth to a daughter, Valerie, who was severely brain-damaged. Snow effectively shelved her career to care for her daughter, refusing to have her institutionalized.
Valerie died suddenly three years ago at age 31. This has left Snow emotionally ravaged. During our hour-long conversation, she made no effort to conceal her grief and dire emotional turmoil. Yet she was also funny and charming and good with an anecdote.
Snow, 56, has returned to performing more or less full-time, and she's conflicted about it. Her voice is still a marvel, a full, expressive contralto that oozes soul and sensitivity, but can also blow down walls. Her current album, Live (Verve), recorded in performance at a studio in Woodstock, N.Y., shows her full range of brilliance, from the bluster of "Standing on Shaky Ground" to the sublime introspection of "Poetry Man."
What follows is an edited version of our conversation...