By: Barb Wallace
There are songs that entertain. Some songs distract. And then, every so often, there are songs that sit quietly beside you, take your hand, and say, “Let me tell you something true.” Harry Kappen’s “The Longing” is one of those songs. It is tender and fierce, introspective and expansive — a musical portrait of a man standing at the crossroads between what he thinks and what he feels. And like all great portraits, it reveals something of the artist while reflecting something of us.
From the opening notes, there is a softness, an almost confessional quality. Kappen’s acoustic guitar doesn’t merely play; it invites. And when he begins to sing — in a voice edged with experience, vulnerability, and just the hint of trembling courage — we lean in. “Sometimes my brain’s on fire,” he admits, and we understand instantly: this is a man caught between intellect and emotion, reason and desire. It is a universal struggle, but few musicians express it with such candor.
The song expands gradually, the way a heart opens reluctantly, then all at once. Electric guitars emerge like waves pushing against the shore, and the rhythm section becomes the pulsing heartbeat beneath the arrangement. This contrast — quiet introspection giving way to roaring release — is not simply musical. It is symbolic. It mirrors the very battle Kappen describes: the push and pull of a restless mind and an even more restless heart.
As a storyteller, Harry Kappen shows remarkable restraint. He doesn’t hide behind metaphors or elaborate poetry. His lyrics are plain-spoken, almost conversational. “Practicalities, analyses, rationality,” he lists, as if reciting the contents of a mind that never fully sleeps. And yet, the refrain — “Only my heart can tell where I should be” — arrives like a revelation whispered in the dark. This is not a song about choosing between head and heart. It is a song about learning to live with both.
Musically, there is an elegance to the way Kappen constructs emotional landscapes. His influences are unmistakable — Lennon and McCartney’s melodic honesty, Bowie’s theatricality, Prince’s emotional daring, Alanis Morissette’s raw nerve, Zeppelin’s thunderous dynamics. But never does “The Longing” feel derivative. Instead, it feels like a conversation between eras, between genres, and ultimately, between a man and himself.
The instrumental break is especially striking. A lyrical guitar solo rises in the middle of the song — not flashy, not loud for the sake of loudness, but expressive, vulnerable, searching. It feels like another voice entering the dialogue, carrying emotions too complex for words. And as orchestral textures build around it, the song ascends into something cinematic, almost spiritual.
There is also the lyric video — a gentle, soaring three-and-a-half-minute flight through the clouds. It is peaceful. It is haunting. And it perfectly mirrors the emotional architecture of the song. This is not escapism; it is elevation. It is perspective. It is seeing the world from above while still feeling everything profoundly below.
Harry Kappen has always been an artist unafraid to explore the complexity of human emotion, whether he’s singing about political turbulence, personal courage, or love’s impact on the soul. But “The Longing” feels different. It feels closer. More intimate. As though he has turned the camera inward and said, simply, “This is who I am when no one is looking.”
And that may be the song’s outstanding achievement. It does not offer answers. It does not provide tidy resolutions. Instead, it offers companionship — an acknowledgment that longing, uncertainty, and inner conflict are not signs of weakness but markers of being alive.
Harry Kappen has created a song that resonates long after the final note fades. “The Longing” is not just heard. It is felt. And somewhere deep within its quiet confession and soaring resolve, we may even recognize a little longing of our own.
