Just about four decades ago, in one of my earliest pieces, I wrote a small article in New York magazine about a young singer-songwriter named Suzanne Vega. This was the first piece about her in a major magazine. She was about to release her first album, but I had been following her for a year, perhaps a little longer, at clubs in Greenwich Village like Speakeasy and Folk City. I was struck by her songs, particularly the stark poetry of her lyrics on songs like Cracking, and the nervy assuredness of songs like Marlene on the Wall. She had a striking stage appearance that combined bravery and tension, like a person at the end of a diving board. But she plunged right in, delivering these surprising clear-eyed, unsparingly honest songs. I have taken a kind of pride in watching her success over the years, especially her performance of Luka to open the Grammys in 1988, and in the miniscule role I played in her ascent. Last night she played the Egg in Albany, and was kind enough to give me a few minutes afterwards.
