If anyone can find the silver lining in the worst of situations, it has always been Diane Warren. That is what her music has consistently imparted to listeners, even if through the lens of a lovelorn ballad. Being deemed “odd,” “strange” or unlikely to make a living from music during her childhood, adolescence and beyond, Warren went on to give the finger (her favorite gesture) to everyone who underestimated her by becoming one of the most successful songwriters of all time. Female (as the “distinction” is often added) or otherwise. Which is why a documentary about her is long overdue. Titled Diane Warren: Relentless, Kesha is the one to give a true glimpse into the tone and nature of the film by providing its lead single, “Dear Me.” Written by, who else, Warren. And Warren alone. As most of her songs usually are. For, as Warren once explained, “When I write with other people, the experience is different. You have to compromise, which I have problems with. I’d rather listen to my own mind.” It’s a sentiment that bears all the psychotic precision of a Virgo like D.W.
Luckily, she aligned with a Pisces (the famously most empathic sign of the zodiac) like Kesha to convey the particularly emotional feelings behind “Dear Me,” arguably her most personal song to date as it is literally a letter (in song form) that she’s written to her younger self. The self that had to deal with so much pain and rejection, as well as the burden of constantly being misunderstood. But to be able to channel herself into the music she writes is how Warren has forced the world to understand her. To gain insight into her complexity not just as a human, but an artist. A woman who has, indeed, devoted her entire life to her art. That is what the crux of her existence has long been about. Hence, the frequent mention of how she hasn’t had a serious relationship since Guy Roche (said relationship having ended in 1992)—who, funnily enough, co-produced “Dear Me.”
Warren has stated that she’d rather be working anyway. Who has time for a relationship or marriage? Especially when she’s married to the work already. She’s no party girl (all play and little work), not like Kesha. But while Kesha’s party girl stylings might not automatically be associated with some of Warren’s more well-known (and pining) songs (e.g., Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time,” LeAnn Rimes’ “How Do I Live” and Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing”), there’s no denying she has plenty of ballads in her oeuvre to back up being selected for a song so weighty (hear: “Praying”).
Lulling listeners into the world Warren invites us into (that of her own fraught childhood-turned-successful adulthood), the opening piano notes are already gut-wrenching enough as it is before Kesha’s voice—singing Warren’s words—adds further fuel to the fire of, antithetically enough, crying your eyes out. This achieved from the moment she delves into the first verse, “If I could write a note to my younger self/Here’s what I’d say:/Everything you’re feeling now won’t always keep you down/There’ll be better days.” Something that Warren’s teenage self undoubtedly would have found difficult to believe.
Even so, Warren addresses that young girl in earnest when she says (through Kesha), “Dear me, don’t worry ‘bout it/You’re gonna be alright, you’ll see/You’ll see” (incidentally, that phrase is the title of a Madonna track—side note: Madonna has tellingly never worked with Warren, as it’s just not “her brand” a.k.a. “edgy” enough for her). Kesha was also likely tapped to sing this song in part because of her own traumas as a young woman navigating the music industry. And no, it definitely isn’t hard for her to deliver the lyrics with conviction, likely imagining that girl who didn’t know any better than to “sign on” with Dr. Luke in 2005 (the year Warren co-wrote Rihanna’s “Music of the Sun” for her debut album of the same name) when she belts out, “Dear me, it’s gonna be alright, alright/Trust me, all of the pain is all gonna fade/You might think you can’t do it/But you’re gonna get through this/It’ll all get better soon, you’ll see.” For Kesha (and for Warren), the horrific experiences weren’t exactly over “soon,” but framing time in a realistic way is hardly the thing to do in an emotional pop ballad crafted expressly to give hope.
Which is precisely what Warren aims to do in funneling such additional verses into Kesha’s mouth as, “Dear me, I know you feel like nobody understands/What you’re going through/You just wanna run and hide/Every day feeling like the whole world’s against you/Dear me, it gets better (better, better)/You’re gonna be just fine, you’ll see/You’ll see (that Madonna phrase again—another side note: “You’ll See” was co-written by David Foster, Warren’s frequent collaborator in composition and production…not songwriting). And she is “just fine”—now. But the “now” of her past self—which might still exist in some alternate dimension—is likely not going to hear the words broadcast back into the ether. Even so, Warren’s intent is clearly to mend her residual wounds in the present that she knows. While that might not really be any good to her past self (yes, this is starting to get very The Twilight Zone-ish in concept), it’s the best she can offer.
Not to mention feeling further validated in having once said, “I never wavered in my commitment to this, no matter what. No matter when I had no money, when people were hanging up the phone on me and sending back my tapes. I was depressed beyond belief and very angry, but I was never not going to do this. This is what I was put here to do.” Warren wants to transcend time and space with “Dear Me” by telling Past Diane that she was right all along to feel this—that songwriting was her sole purpose—in her bones. That she’s been vindicated and validated so many times over to prove as much.
Of course, not everyone has the luxury of being able to feel as though they could honestly tell their younger selves that things are better in the future. Not just on a personal level, but a global one. For there’s no way the younger Warren wouldn’t be fucking pissed if she was able to try and call the elder Warren on her bullshit by visiting the present only to find that the Orange One has taken the reins over the country and driven it even further into the ground. But, barring an actual time machine, “Dear Me” is the best that Warren can do to offer her younger self comfort. All thanks to sincere, heartfelt vocals from Kesha, who is delivering her own past self as much “love and light” from her present vantage point.
