Some songs arrive like unexpected phone calls from people you thought you’d never hear from again. They stir up memories you’d carefully filed away, emotions you thought you’d processed, connections you assumed were permanently severed. Sarah James’ latest single « The Distance », discovered on Slash Music, is exactly that kind of song, a raw, unflinching examination of what happens when the people we love drift away, not through dramatic confrontations but through the slow, silent erosion of time and circumstance.
If you loved Joni Mitchell and Gillian Welch, Sarah James channels that same gift for turning personal pain into universal poetry. « The Distance » emerged from a particularly difficult period in Sarah James’ life when she found herself mourning a relationship that hadn’t technically ended, it had just faded into something unrecognizable. The song captures that specific type of grief that doesn’t come with funeral rites or closure, just an empty space where someone used to be.
The song has struck a chord with audiences who’ve shared their own stories of distance with Sarah James through social media and at live shows. Parents estranged from children, siblings who haven’t spoken in years, best friends who became acquaintances, « The Distance » seems to speak to all of them. Sarah James has created something rare: a song about loss that doesn’t drown in despair but instead floats in that complicated space between sadness and acceptance, between regret and peace.
Vintage Guitar Legacies: Where History Meets Artistry
Beyond her songwriting prowess, Sarah James has become something of a guardian for musical history through her extensive collection of vintage guitars. This isn’t a hobby or an aesthetic choice, it’s a genuine passion for preserving the instruments that shaped American music. Each guitar in Sarah James’ collection tells a story that predates her, and she approaches these instruments with the reverence they deserve.
Walking into Sarah James’ home studio is like stepping into a museum of American musical heritage. Vintage Martin acoustics from the 1940s hang alongside rare Gibson models, each one carefully maintained and regularly played. Sarah James believes guitars aren’t meant to be displayed behind glass, they’re meant to be played, to continue making music, to pass their particular sonic character on to new generations. She’s tracked down instruments with fascinating provenance, guitars that were played in honky-tonks and folk festivals, that survived floods and fires, that changed hands between musicians who poured their hearts into the wood and strings.
Sarah James has also become an advocate for preserving vintage instruments, speaking at guitar shows and writing articles about the importance of keeping these pieces of musical history alive and functional. She’s particularly interested in the craftsmanship that went into guitars built before mass production took over, the individual attention to detail, the unique quirks that make each instrument distinct. In an era when digital production can make everything sound polished and perfect, Sarah James champions the imperfections, the character, the soul that comes from instruments built by human hands and weathered by decades of use.
