Changing Horses — a quiet reckoning with time, courage, and the moment we choose a different road
There is a certain stillness that settles in when Dan Fogelberg sings “Changing Horses.” It is not the stillness of emptiness, but of reflection — the pause one takes before stepping away from a familiar life and into something uncertain. Released in 1979 as the title track of the album Changing Horses, the song arrived during a transitional period in Fogelberg’s career, both musically and personally. While it was never released as a major hit single and did not climb the singles charts, the album itself found a respectful place on the Billboard 200, affirming that his audience was growing older with him, listening not for radio anthems, but for meaning.
By the late 1970s, Dan Fogelberg was already a trusted companion to many listeners. His earlier successes — rich with melody, romance, and pastoral imagery — had made him a defining voice of introspective American songwriting. But Changing Horses marked a subtle shift. It was not about settling into comfort; it was about questioning it. The title alone suggests risk, movement, and the courage to let go of what once worked.
The phrase “changing horses” comes from the old saying about not switching horses midstream — a warning against unnecessary risk. Yet Fogelberg turns that idea on its head. In this song, changing horses is not recklessness; it is survival. It is the acknowledgment that staying still can be its own kind of danger.
Musically, the song reflects this inner conflict. There is a measured pace, a steady rhythm that feels like footsteps on familiar ground, while the melody gently leans forward, as if drawn toward the unknown. Fogelberg’s voice, calm and thoughtful, carries the weight of someone who has already tried the safer path — and found it lacking.
Lyrically, “Changing Horses” speaks to the moment when inner truth grows louder than fear. The narrator understands the cost of change: misunderstanding, loss, loneliness. Yet there is also a quiet certainty that remaining where he is would mean betraying himself. This is not rebellion for rebellion’s sake; it is an honest accounting of the soul’s needs.
What makes the song resonate so deeply is its restraint. Fogelberg does not dramatize his choice. He doesn’t shout it from the rooftops. Instead, he presents it as a thoughtful decision made after long nights of reflection — the kind of decision many people recognize only later in life, when experience has stripped away illusion.
Within the context of the album Changing Horses, the song serves as a thematic anchor. The record explored jazz influences, smoother textures, and more complex emotional landscapes than some of his earlier folk-leaning work. For some listeners at the time, it felt unexpected. For others, it felt honest. Looking back now, it feels inevitable — the sound of an artist refusing to repeat himself simply because it was comfortable.
There is a particular power in hearing this song years after its release. With distance, its meaning deepens. It becomes less about career moves or artistic direction and more about the universal moment when we realize that who we were is no longer who we are. The past is not rejected; it is honored — but it cannot be lived in forever.
“Changing Horses” does not promise happiness on the other side of change. What it offers instead is integrity. It suggests that peace comes not from certainty, but from honesty — from choosing the path that aligns with one’s inner compass, even when the destination is unclear.
In the long arc of Dan Fogelberg’s work, this song stands as a quiet milestone. Not a farewell, not a beginning, but a turning point. A reminder that life, like music, asks us to listen closely — and sometimes, to take the reins in hand, thank the old road for carrying us this far, and ride on toward something new.