Honestly, it’s hard to imagine a world where this song isn’t a staple of every "most romantic tracks" list ever made. You’ve probably heard it at a wedding, or maybe during a late-night drive when the radio hits just right. But the story of The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face Roberta Flack version isn't just about a pretty melody. It’s actually a weird, three-year-long slow burn that almost didn't happen.
Most people think this was a Roberta Flack original. It wasn't. It was written in 1957 by a British folk singer named Ewan MacColl. He wrote it for Peggy Seeger, his lover at the time, and he reportedly wrote it in about an hour. He even taught it to her over the phone because she needed a song for a play.
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The Version the Songwriter Actually Hated
Here is the kicker: MacColl apparently hated almost every cover of his song. He had this specific section in his record collection he called the "Chamber of Horrors." He put Elvis Presley's version in there. He even disliked the Roberta Flack version at first, calling these covers "travesties" that were too histrionic.
He thought they missed the point of a simple folk tune.
But Roberta didn’t care about the folk "rules." She found the song through a friend, singer Donal Leace, and started playing it during her residency at Mr. Henry’s in D.C. She took this fast, 1950s folk song and slowed it way, way down. She wanted space. She wanted to breathe. When she finally recorded it for her 1969 debut album, First Take, her producer Joel Dorn actually begged her to speed it up.
He told her, "You don’t care if it’s a hit or not?"
She basically said, "No, sir."
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She was right. For three years, the song did absolutely nothing. It sat on a shelf while Roberta released two more albums.
How Clint Eastwood Saved The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face Roberta Flack
Success is often just about being in the right place at the right time. For Roberta, that "place" was a car on a California freeway. Clint Eastwood was driving when he heard the song on the radio. He was working on his directorial debut, a thriller called Play Misty for Me.
He was so obsessed with the track that he called Roberta personally. He offered her $2,000 to use it in the film. She was actually worried it was still too slow for a movie, but Eastwood knew better. He used it during a five-minute-long montage that basically turned the song into a global phenomenon.
Suddenly, Atlantic Records realized they had a gold mine sitting in their archives from 1969. They trimmed about a minute off the length (the original is over five minutes) and sent it to radio in 1972. It stayed at No. 1 for six weeks.
Why the Arrangement Is So Genius
Musically, the song is a masterclass in "less is more."
- The Tempo: It’s painfully slow, which forces you to listen to every syllable.
- The Dynamics: She barely raises her voice. It’s a whisper that feels like it’s happening right in your ear.
- The Surprise Note: If you listen closely during the line "to the dark and the endless skies," there’s a Bb note that shouldn't technically be in the key of C major. It’s a bit of modal mixture—borrowing a note from the minor scale—that creates this sudden sense of vastness.
It’s not quite jazz, and it’s not quite soul. It’s just Roberta.
By the time the 1973 Grammys rolled around, she walked away with Record of the Year and Song of the Year. It was a massive validation for a woman who refused to "pick up the pace" just to satisfy a producer’s idea of a hit. Even Peggy Seeger, who originally disliked the slow version, eventually admitted she came to love what Roberta did with it.
The song has been covered by everyone from Johnny Cash to Celine Dion, but nobody captures that specific, agonizingly beautiful stillness like the 1969 recording. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best way to get someone’s attention isn't by screaming, but by being the quietest person in the room.
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If you want to really appreciate the craft here, go back and listen to the original First Take album version rather than the radio edit. Pay attention to the way the upright bass follows her voice like a shadow. Then, try to find a recording of Ewan MacColl's original folk version on YouTube; the contrast in speed and vibe is honestly shocking.
Next Step: Listen to the full 5-minute and 22-second version from the First Take album back-to-back with the Ewan MacColl original to see exactly how much Roberta Flack transformed the DNA of the song.