Some songs arrive like a gentle breeze, others like thunder. Chris Rusin’s ‘Time to Love’ lands somewhere in between, a quiet confession that roars through your chest.
Written in the aftermath of a cancer diagnosis and a late-night reckoning in his childhood bedroom, ‘Time to Love’ is a living, breathing snapshot of a man staring mortality in the face and choosing to sing back.
Rusin’s lyrics are unflinchingly honest. Lines like, “I used to dream of the love I’d find in time/ Now I dream of finding time to love”, cut straight through the noise, distilling the paradox of longing and regret into a single, gut-punching moment. You can almost see him there, six days after surgery, watching the frozen lake outside the window where he once imagined endless adventures.
The verses carry a heavy kind of vulnerability, “There’s a train out there that just keeps rolling/ And there’s a flame in here but it’s not enough.” That train becomes a metaphor for life’s relentless motion, indifferent to whether we’re ready to catch it. Meanwhile, Rusin’s flame flickers but refuses to go out.
‘Time to Love’ is understated but deeply felt. The cello lines (courtesy of Russick Smith), upright bass, and Rusin’s soft guitar work create a hushed, almost reverent atmosphere. Produced with Grammy-nominated Andrew Berlin, the track preserves the raw emotion of those first takes.
Rusin’s journey from losing his voice during chemotherapy to standing on stage again is embedded in every line. There’s defiance here, but also deep gratitude, “Time to live/ Time to love.” Those repeated final words are a mantra and a promise to keep moving forward, even when the path is unclear.
‘Time to Love’ is a reminder to pick up the phone, to hug your loved ones tighter, and to watch the moonlight on a lake while letting yourself feel every complicated thing.
If you’re looking for music that resonates beyond catchy hooks or fleeting trends, this is it. Chris Rusin has given us a quiet masterpiece, one that urges us to find the time to love, before it’s too late.
