Some songs feel like they were written just for you. Others feel like you’re eavesdropping on a conversation you were never meant to hear.
Audra Watt’s “Here in New York” is the latter. It’s a deeply personal reflection on a life-altering decision, a forked road, and the quiet hum of “what if” that echoes in the background of our lives.
The Nashville-based singer-songwriter has crafted a song that is at once specific and universal, a story of a choice made and a path not taken.
The story behind the song is a simple one, yet it carries the weight of a lifetime. As an 18-year-old, Watt was accepted to NYU and faced a choice: move to the city that never sleeps or stay in Tennessee.
She chose Tennessee, a decision that led her to her husband, her children, and the life she now loves. But every time she visits New York, she can’t help but wonder about the other Audra, the one who might have been.
It’s a feeling many of us know well, the ghost of a life unlived that walks beside us.
The song opens with the sounds of New York City traffic, a choice that immediately places the listener in the heart of the city. It’s a clever bit of production from Andrew King, who recorded the track at his Vibe King Studio in Nashville.
King, who also plays electric guitar on the track, has a knack for creating a sense of space and atmosphere. The instrumentation is layered and cinematic, with a sound that calls to mind the early-2000s indie-rock of The Shins and The Dandy Warhols, bands Watt was listening to when she was dreaming of a life in New York.
There are also echoes of the narrative-driven country of Kacey Musgraves and Brandi Carlile, as well as the modern indie-pop sensibilities of Phoebe Bridgers and Haim.
It’s a potent combination, and it gives the song a sound that is both familiar and fresh.
Lyrically, the song is a masterclass in storytelling. Watt’s voice is clear and honest, and she sings with a sense of vulnerability that is deeply affecting.
She paints a vivid picture of a woman walking through the streets of New York, haunted by the ghost of her younger self. The lyrics are full of small, telling details, like the way she describes the city as both a “muse and a memory.”
It’s a line that perfectly captures the song’s central tension, the push and pull between the past and the present, between gratitude and longing.
One of the most interesting moments in the song comes in the bridge, where the melody mimics a guitar riff that emerged spontaneously during the recording session.
It’s a small detail, but it speaks to the organic and collaborative nature of the recording process. The track also features the talents of session musician Sol Philcox-Littlefield on acoustic guitar, whose playing adds a layer of warmth and intimacy to the song.
It’s a reminder that even a song about a solitary experience can be a communal creation.
It’s interesting to think about how our choices ripple outwards, how a single decision can shape the course of a life. It’s a theme that has been explored in everything from Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” to the film “Sliding Doors.”
But there’s something about the way Watt explores it in “Here in New York” that feels particularly poignant. Perhaps it’s the specificity of the details, the sense that this is a real story, a real life. Or perhaps it’s the way she balances the sadness of what was lost with the joy of what was gained.
The song is not a lament for a life unlived, but rather a celebration of the life that is. It’s a song about making peace with the past and finding beauty in the present.
“Here in New York” is a song with staying power. It’s a song that will resonate with anyone who has ever stood at a crossroads and wondered what might have been.
It’s a song for the dreamers, the romantics, and the realists. It’s a song for the Audra in all of us.
So, what are we to make of this postcard from a life not lived? What are we to do with these ghosts of our other selves?
Perhaps the answer is simply to acknowledge them, to let them walk beside us, to listen to their stories. And then, to turn our faces to the sun and keep on walking.
After all, the road not taken is still a part of the journey. And sometimes, the most beautiful songs are the ones that are written in the spaces between where two paths diverge.
