A gentle, longing voyage toward hope and freedom, carried on the pure, expressive voice of a woman who knows both love and loss
There is an elegant undercurrent of yearning in Sail Away as sung by Linda Ronstadt, a quiet longing for escape—and for renewal—that unfolds softly across the 1973 album Don’t Cry Now. Though the song did not make waves as a standalone single, it occupies a delicate place in Ronstadt’s journey—early enough to capture her evolving artistry, and intimate enough to feel like a personal letter to time-worn memories and unspoken dreams. The album itself was released on October 1, 1973.
Ronstadt’s decision to record “Sail Away” (a song originally by Randy Newman) reveals her willingness to embrace songs that carry emotional weight and thematic depth. In her voice, the song becomes more than an arrangement—it becomes a reflection, a turning-inward, a recognition that the seas one wants to sail away across are not always out there but often within.
Musically, the track drifts with a softness that invites reflection. There are no bold fireworks here—no overt showmanship. Instead, Ronstadt’s voice is front and center, supported by subtle instrumentation that leaves room for the listener to breathe, to remember, to imagine the horizon. It feels like the hush just before dawn, when the world holds its breath and possibilities seem infinite. Listening to her sing, you sense the courage it takes to long for something unknown, to leave behind a shore you once called home, or to admit that staying might mean stalling your flight.
In the context of the album, “Sail Away” is both anchor and vessel: anchor inasmuch as it roots you in Ronstadt’s voice and character; vessel because it carries you away from the familiar cadence of everyday life into something more expansive. At a time when she was forging her identity—transitioning toward the greater heights she would later scale—the song feels like a quietly pivotal moment: the acceptance of restlessness, the longing to journey, the hope that the next landing will matter more than the one you left.
For listeners who have known the tug between home and wanderlust, between staying safe and risking heartbreak, this song offers reassurance. There’s no shame here in wanting to go, nor guilt in staying. Ronstadt’s performance whispers that it’s our choices—and our courage—that define our direction. And sometimes the most honest journey is the one you undertake within your own heart.
Though “Sail Away” might not bear the weight of chart-topping status, it stands as a tender testament to what Ronstadt would continue to offer: voice as truth, songs as vessels of memory and hope. It speaks to the older listener, the one who has folded and unfolded maps of life more than once, who knows that to sail away doesn’t always mean leaving—it sometimes means arriving.
In the end, this song is like a quiet harbor at the end of a long voyage—the place where you rest, reflect, and gather strength for whatever comes next. And Ronstadt guides you there with a voice both steady and soft, reminding us that even when the sea is wide and the sky uncertain, the heart can still choose its direction.