Strangers on a Train

Written by Scooter Carusoe and Aimee Mayo
Performed by David Nail on I’m About to Come Alive

From what I’ve heard (and from reading his list of Thank Yous), David Nail has been a popular guy in Nashville for awhile now among country musicians—Billy Currington, Miranda Lambert, Lady Antebellum, to name a few—and, on his album, a few of the tracks were co-written by some other familiar names: Kenny Chesney (yeah, that Kenny Chesney) and Aimee Mayo. The guy very clearly has established himself as a strong song-writer in Nashville and now on his debut album, I’m About to Come Alive.



He’s also one of the better male vocalists on the charts right now, which, surprisingly, seems to somehow go unnoticed sometimes. Did you ever hear a song (in any genre) and think “wow, this is catchy…but this person can’t actually sing that well”? Well, that’s not the case here. Nail’s voice is original—it doesn’t remind me of anyone but him. Does that make sense? Sometimes, when you hear a new artist…you can say, “He/she reminds me of ________,” and someone will probably agree with you. But Nail has a unique, effortless tone and he knows how to use it. His voice can stand alone, but it’s also great for harmony, and it can also stand out among a lot of background instrumentation. He’s versatile and fresh, and his style is too. Even though his songs fit the mold of what most country musicians cover on their debut albums—a good break-up song, a song about the summertime, a song about their first love, etc.—Nail makes them new. The lyrics, the sounds, the use of instruments, everything. The songs on I’m About to Come Alive weren’t ones I felt like I’d heard before. I’m impressed with David Nail…if you couldn’t tell.

I honestly could use every one the songs on I’m About to Come Alive on this blog. But for right now, I’m going with “Strangers on a Train,” for several reasons (the fact that Miranda Lambert sings harmony has absolutely nothing to do with it): everyone has had one of these moments, even if it wasn’t on a train; the harmonica! And well, you’ll just have to wait and see what else.

I didn’t really talk about the title in the first couple of posts—and that’s because titles are either a) appropriate, b)cheesy, or c)predictable. But every now and then, someone will give us a great one—one that we may even love. And I. love. this. title. “Strangers on a Train.” The ‘A’ sounds! It rolls off your tongue, right? It feels very natural to respond, “Strangers on a Train,” when someone asks what this song is called. Sometimes song titles are awkward and they make you feel silly repeating them—i.e. “Tonight the Heartache’s on Me”—what a mouthfull! And don’t even get me started on those titles with parenthesis—“How Sweet It Is (to be loved by you)”—really?

But, I digress. Back to the song.

Immediately, you hear that bluesy harmonica. It gives you that train feel (if only they actually sounded like harmonicas!), setting you up for the first verse, where he speaks directly to the listener. This is important because the intended audience shifts after the first chorus. This is where that “everyone has had one of these moments, even if it wasn’t on a train” thing comes in. He says to the audience…Hey, remember that guy/girl you locked eyes with that one time, and even though you had a girlfriend/boyfriend at the time…you kinda wondered, what if?

“Sometimes you see someone/when you already got someone/still you wonder what if they had come along a long time ago/you know that they’re feelin’ it too/but there ain’t nothin’ you’re gonna do/except for imagine who you might have been with them”

Now you’re thinking about when that happened to you. It’s okay—I won’t tell!

The chorus describes “imagine who you might have been with them” part of the first verse:

“Cause as these little brick houses are flying by/‘Neath the flickering of the railcar lights/I let myself get lost in your eyes a while/Not another passenger in here can see/How in my mind you’re holdin’ me/While outside the cold makes snow out of the rain/But in here we’re just strangers on a train”

But let’s talk about those images in the chorus before we move on—“brick houses are flying by,” “flicking of the railcar lights,” “the cold makes snow out of the rain.” I don’t know about you, but I’ve been a passenger on a train in a city (thanks, Heather!) and these descriptions are both vivid and accurate. And actually, when I heard this song the first time, I had not yet been on a train and they still worked for me. That’s the most poetic part of this song—creating images for the audience. It’s a lot like the responsibility of a photographer or a painter. You’ve gotta capture it correctly or…you haven’t done your job.

Another thing about the chorus—notice how “in my mind you’re holdin’ me/While outside the cold makes snow out of the rain” can be interpreted two different ways: 1) the cold makes snow out of the rain, outside the train, while this guy daydreams about the girl, or 2) in the daydream, the cold makes snow out of the rain (while she’s holdin’ him).

In the second verse, that shift I mentioned earlier happens. The singer directs the lyrics to the woman on the train, instead of to the listeners of the song. He creates some action between them, exchanging glances and grins. And he calls her out for acting like she doesn’t see him: “starin’ off tryin’ to pretend/like you haven’t even noticed me at all.”

Now, being a woman, I know this is a completely accurate description of this scenario. I can’t lie, I’ve done it! Women are pros at appearing oblivious. And really, at this point in the song…a listener could assume that the woman is oblivious. After all…she is just a woman on a train. But making that assumption definitely isn’t any fun. So in the bridge…here’s our movie moment:

“Brakes grind, I gotta go/Reach down, pick up my coat/Afraid that you might stop me in the aisle/Watch my breath risin’ in the air/Can’t do nothin’ but just stand there/As you press your hand against the window pane/And I wave to my stranger on a train”

The best part of about the bridge is that it’s totally cliché—how many times have you seen this in a movie? The train pulls away…the passenger still on board frantically tries to stop the conductor from going forward…the person outside runs after the train. It always ends the same way. But isn’t this a metaphor too? Can’t it be compared to that guy/girl you saw or talked to for a brief moment in line at Starbucks (thinking, I like this person…) and then they disappear with their White Chocolate Mocha, never to be seen again. They were probably thinking the same thing about you, when they awkwardly said “See ya…” and walked away. The woman in this song was, at least.

Notice, also, that the harmony parts only happen during the chorus and at the end during “watch my breath risin’ in the air/can’t do nothin’ but just stand there/as you press your hand against the window pane,” and in the repeat of the phrase “my stranger on a train” at the very end, which suggests that the woman felt the same way throughout the entirety of the song.