“The Impossible”
Joe Nichols
Written by Kelley Lovelace and Lee Thomas Miller
Radio & Records
#1 (1 week)
September 20, 2002
Let me start by saying that I genuinely like Joe Nichols. He’s a great singer who came along a few years too late to have his talents fully realized and appreciated. He was the countrified Billy Dean we didn’t know we were missing back in the early nineties.
But I have to use his debut record to make a larger point about how the ball was being dropped in Nashville at the turn of the century. This was an era where “that’s good enough” became good enough, and quality control went fully by the wayside.
The first verse and chorus of “The Impossible” are perfect. Impossibly perfect, really. Because the entire tale is told in the first verse and chorus. The payoff of the strong father showing weakness at his own father’s death, as seen through the eyes of his own son of thirteen years, cannot be matched. The song’s done. Add a “wrap it up” bridge if you need to, but the tale has been told.
But they insist on a second verse, and it brings in this dramatic arc that begins with a car accident and ends in a triumphant scene at a high school graduation and it’s all just too much. It cheapens the intimacy and universality of the opening verse and drags it kicking and screaming into the Hallmark section of your local CVS. By the time we get the bridge, which makes it about saving a current relationship, we’ve circled the drain completely.
This is technically better than most of the records we’ll cover later in the decade, but God, does it frustrate me more than most of them because of how good this could have been with some nineties style quality control.
“The Impossible” gets a B.
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I can see how the second verse might be too much, but I liked it. To me, the song being about impossible odds and leading to the payoff of “don’t give up on you and me” is understated but potent.
I was one of the three people who bought his debut album in 1996, along with Steve Azar’s, so it surprised me when both acts finally had hits six years later. I didn’t like this song at first but it grew on me.
I had the same response to both in 2002….floored that Steve Azar and Joe Nichols rose from a six-year career grave to find success. The bluesy “Waitin’ on Joe” was one of my favorite songs of the year. It deserved much better than #28 or wherever the hell it peaked.
Vocal is great, song is bland – like far too much of Joe Nichols’ output.
I’d completely forgotten–if indeed I’d ever knew it in the first place–that “The Impossible” made it to #1 on Radio and Records. What a pleasant surprise to see it make this feature. Unlike you, I’ll give it an unqualified endorsement. It was a well sung and well-written song from an artist I had figured missed his only chance when his 1996 debut fell flat. Thank goodness it didn’t because Nichols was just so darn likable and easy to root for compared to so many of his contemporaries.
The first verse of “The Impossible” was fantastic but was it unequivocally the song’s emotional high point as you muse? That’s debatable. The second verse certainly danced close to turning the song into formulaic territory but did so with such intense emotional resonance that Nichols quite easily pulled it off. But the bridge where you think the song went off the rails was where I thought it shined brightest, offering a real-time epiphany as to why the narrator is so invested in relaying us stories about “the impossible”. To him, saving his deeply distressed relationship cut just as deep as his dad being brought to tears or his friend walking up to get his diploma, and as a listener my only disappointment was not knowing if the narrator baring his soul to this degree brought the desired–and deserved–outcome of mending his broken marriage. Both verses, the bridge, and the chorus came together seamlessly, and with a truly compelling vocal performance to sell the entire package.
Once again, I’ll compare “The Impossible” favorably to “The Good Stuff”, which I consider so thematically similar. Nichols’ performance hit me in the gut where Chesney’s felt like it was delivered by a Christmas display mannequin. And while I liked the writing of “The Good Stuff”, it felt like a blatantly obvious instant replay of “Chiseled in Stone”. “The Impossible” came from a place less familiar. You correctly cite Nashville’s declining center of gravity in 2002 but you hold this song up as an avatar of that decline whereas I hold it up as one of the year’s shining beacons. I’ll sing this song’s praises seven days a week and twice on Sundays.
Grade: A
I’ve always liked Joe Nichols’ voice, often much more so than the songs he sang. To me this is a B+, and while I love his performance I do agree with the criticism of the song’s second verse as it muddies the song’s impact.
“B+”. Very good performance of a pretty good song. Not a standard by any means but when listening it’s very pleasant.
I agree. I like this song in general. I like Nichols’ performance, the production and even the melody, but the second verse made me groan. I guess I had started becoming more cynical by the time this song came out, because I would’ve eaten it up in the nineties.:)
Joe Nichols and Chris Young are my go-to answers for artists that frustrate me. Each one has some great songs that showcase their strong vocal talents, but too often waste their talent on subpar material. I do think this is one of his better efforts, but agree the second verse muddies the song a bit.
I am a huge Joe Nichol’s fan. I absolutely adores his early albums. Admittedly, this song felt manipulative at first listen, but it grew on me a little more each time I heard it and it really began to resonate with me; and it still does.
Nichols’ vocals are so outrageously good that he can elevate any material he records. I just don’t think this song, however, is one of those instances.
The song’s retrospective progression from child to teen to adult allows the narrator to witness miracles, or the impossible, throughout his life, at a point when he desperately needs to believe in them the most. He is just making his hopeful case for a faltering relationship. And he does so convincingly to my ears.
Along with Daryl Worley, I thought Joe Nichol’s was going to represent the best of country music from this new generation of male stars. The ’90s had set such an impossibly high bar to clear for new artists. In some way I was always listening for the next Randy Travis, Alan Jackson, or Garth Brooks. I just expected the line of insanely good debuts to continue indefinitely.
Both this song, and Joe Nichols as an artist, are definite highlights for me from this era.
This song stood out from the pack for me, by leaps and bounds.
The song is stupid and contrived. We all see it on the news every year. It’s damn near a trope–the high school students speeding in a car and crashing and ending up dead or paralyzed and the students setting up memorials, etc.. To turn that on its head into a “happy” ending is manipulative and doesn’ ring true. But on a positive note, Nichols is the singer that the song deserves. I’m glad they gave the song to him and not to Strait.