A Tender Surrender to Time, Heartache, and the Unforgiving Grace of Memory
When Linda Ronstadt released “What’s New?” in 1983 as the title track of her album What’s New, she did more than reinterpret a classic torch song—she redefined the possibilities for a pop-rock icon entering new emotional and stylistic territory. The album itself, produced by the legendary Nelson Riddle, became a cultural event, peaking at No. 3 on the Billboard 200 and eventually going platinum. For a generation that knew Ronstadt as the crystalline voice of California rock, this collection of standards—anchored by her shimmering rendition of “What’s New?”, first penned in 1939 by Bob Haggart and Johnny Burke—was both a revelation and an act of exquisite vulnerability.
At its surface, “What’s New?” is a ballad steeped in longing, a quiet conversation with lost love that tiptoes through memory rather than dwelling in despair. But Ronstadt’s version transcends mere nostalgia—it becomes a meditation on time itself. Her phrasing, patient and unhurried, carries the ache of someone who has lived long enough to understand that heartbreak never quite dissolves; it only softens into something bittersweet and strangely beautiful. Nelson Riddle’s arrangement envelops her voice like candlelight reflected on glass—each brass sigh, each violin tremor perfectly balanced between warmth and melancholy.
The choice to record “What’s New?” was audacious. In the early ’80s, the popular landscape was dominated by synthesizers and glossy production, yet Ronstadt turned toward the Great American Songbook with reverence rather than irony. She wasn’t merely dabbling in nostalgia; she was reclaiming an emotional language nearly forgotten by contemporary audiences. Through this lens, “What’s New?” serves as both an homage to tradition and a statement of personal artistic evolution—a bridge between eras built from empathy and discipline.
Listening closely, one can hear Ronstadt not as a pop star visiting another genre but as an interpreter standing before an open wound of universal scale—the regret of what might have been, spoken softly to the ghost of someone who no longer answers. Her delivery invites introspection: how we mask our grief with poise, how we speak casually to those who once broke us simply because we must continue to exist among them. There is no bitterness here, only the weary dignity of acceptance.
“What’s New?” thus occupies a singular place in Ronstadt’s career and in the broader canon of twentieth-century songcraft. It reintroduced mainstream listeners to the orchestral romance of prewar jazz balladry while affirming that great emotion requires no era—it only demands honesty. In this recording, Linda Ronstadt doesn’t simply sing about lost love; she embodies the quiet courage it takes to face it again, tenderly, unflinchingly, and forever changed.