A gentle meditation on love transformed through time, where a psychedelic dream becomes a quiet prayer of tenderness and grace.
When Emmylou Harris released “May This Be Love” as part of her 1995 album Wrecking Ball, it arrived not as a commercial statement but as an artistic one. The song was never issued as a standalone single, and therefore it did not enter the Billboard singles charts upon release. Yet its importance was never meant to be measured in chart positions. Its power lies elsewhere, in atmosphere, restraint, and emotional depth. Placed early within the album’s carefully sequenced flow, the track signals to the listener that Wrecking Ball is not a nostalgic exercise but a reinvention, a deliberate step into new emotional and sonic territory.
Originally written by Jimi Hendrix and released in 1967 on Are You Experienced, “May This Be Love” was one of Hendrix’s most lyrical and introspective compositions. Even in its original form, it stood apart from the fiery virtuosity that defined much of his public image. The song was quiet, fluid, and inward-looking, shaped like a dream drifting across water. Emmylou Harris, working closely with producer Daniel Lanois, recognized that this piece could be transformed without losing its soul. Instead of amplifying its psychedelic origins, they softened it, slowed its pulse, and allowed silence and space to speak as loudly as melody.
The album Wrecking Ball, released by Asylum Records in September 1995, marked a pivotal moment in Harris’s career. After decades of defining excellence within country, folk, and Americana, she chose risk over comfort. Lanois, known for his work with U2, Peter Gabriel, and Bob Dylan, brought a textured, ambient production style that was unconventional for Harris at the time. The result was an album that sounded suspended in air, reverberant and nocturnal, with songs unfolding like half-remembered thoughts. That artistic courage was recognized when Wrecking Ball won the Grammy Award for Best Contemporary Folk Album at the 38th Annual Grammy Awards.
“May This Be Love” benefits enormously from the musicians involved. Larry Mullen Jr., best known as the drummer for U2, provides percussion that feels less like rhythm and more like breath, understated and patient. Daniel Lanois contributes electric guitar lines that shimmer and fade, never asserting dominance, always serving mood. Harris’s voice, luminous and controlled, carries the song with a calm authority earned through years of lived experience. She does not perform the lyric so much as inhabit it.
The meaning of the song shifts subtly in this version. In Hendrix’s hands, it was the wonder of love newly discovered, fragile and slightly unreal. In Harris’s interpretation, love feels reflective, almost retrospective, as if viewed from a distance shaped by time. The lyric “Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all” becomes less a declaration of invincibility and more a moment of hope spoken softly, perhaps even cautiously. This emotional reframing is where the cover achieves its deepest resonance. It is not about youth or revelation, but about endurance and grace.
What makes Emmylou Harris’s “May This Be Love” endure is its refusal to impress. There is no vocal acrobatics, no dramatic crescendo. Instead, there is trust in simplicity and belief in the listener’s patience. The song unfolds slowly, inviting reflection rather than demanding attention. It feels like music made late at night, when memory and feeling blur together, and words are chosen carefully because they matter.
In the broader context of Wrecking Ball, the track functions as a quiet center. It connects past and present, honoring Jimi Hendrix without imitation, and reaffirming Harris’s gift for emotional truth. This version stands as a reminder that great songs are not fixed objects. They are living things, capable of change, deepening, and renewal. In that sense, “May This Be Love” becomes not just a cover, but a conversation across generations, spoken in a voice that understands both longing and peace.