Fall Out Boy: Hum Hallelujah (2007)

My favorite, favorite Fall Out Boy lyrics. Let's dig right in.



Hum Hallelujah

It's all a game of this or that
Now versus then
"Better off" against "worse for wear"

And you're someone who knows someone
Who knows someone I once knew
And I just want to be a part of this

The road outside my house is paved with good intentions
Hired a construction crew 'cause it's hell on the engine
And you are the dreamer, and we are the dream
I could write it better than you ever felt it

So hum hallelujah
Just off the key of reason
I thought I loved you;
It was just how you looked in the light

A teenage vow in a parking lot:
"Til tonight do us part"
I'll sing the blues and swallow them too

My words are my faith, to hell with a good name
A remix of your guts, your insides x-rayed
And one day we'll get nostalgic for disaster
We're a bull, your ears are just a china shop

I love you in the same way there's a chapel in a hospital:
One foot in your bedroom and one foot out the door
Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills
I could write it better than you ever felt it

So hum hallelujah
Just off the key of reason
I thought I loved you;
It was just how you looked in the light

A teenage vow in a parking lot:
"Til tonight do us part"
I'll sing the blues and swallow them too

-----------------

Okay! There is so much great stuff here that I'm not even sure where to start. First, some background. In 2008, Fall Out Boy lyricist and bassist Pete Wentz admitted that he once tried to kill himself:

"I got in my car. I remember I was listening to Jeff Buckley doing Leonard Cohen's ‘Hallelujah’ and sat there and took a bunch of Ativan in a Best Buy parking lot."

Perhaps not the ideal way to go out (the Best Buy is what kills it for me), but he lived to write another day and eventually turned his experiences into the words for two songs: From Under the Cork Tree's "7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)" and this one.

So let's start at the beginning. With Wentz's suicide attempt as the core of the song (after all, it's called "Hum Hallelujah" and features a choir that sings "Hallelujah" in the exact same way as in the Leonard Cohen song), we can analyze the rest of the words as giving some insight into just why Wentz would want to kill himself.

The first verse features Wentz comparing his life at present to his life in the past, as Patrick Stump sings his lyrics: "It's all a game of...now versus then/'Better off' against 'worse for wear'". It's unclear whether "now" equates to "better off" or "worse for wear", but given the content of the the next verse and the bridge, it's pretty safe to say that Wentz is feeling pretty worse for wear.

The lines "And you're someone who knows someone/Who knows someone I once knew" speak to Wentz's new life in the spotlight, and the idea that when you're famous, everyone with even a tangential relationship to you wants to come along for the ride and reap the benefits of your hard work. The hangers-on that Wentz now has to deal with aren't even his family or friends, but iterations away; people who know people who know him. Because of this, he feels disconnected from his own life and his own success, writing, "I just want to be a part of it."

Immediately after, Wentz writes, "The road outside my house is paved with good intentions," obviously a play on the saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. So is Wentz's home hell? I have to assume here that he's continuing to discuss what fame has given him, so his house is probably an expensive place, representing his new life as a star. Maybe it's something that he feels he doesn't deserve or reminds him of who he used to be. Nevertheless, all of Wentz's misery stems from "good intentions"; ie- wanting to write and perform music.

"I can write it better than you ever felt it," Stump sings, and while it may be cocky of Wentz to put that out there, it's one of my favorite lines of the song. Often, people can feel their emotions but are incapable of expressing or describing them. Wentz has just the opposite problem: he has no doubt he can put the words on paper but he's having a hard time feeling much of anything.

Still, the music Wentz is helping to create is obviously still something very important to him, and the one thing to which he's holding on. Skipping the chorus for the moment, the next verse of "Hum Hallelujah" reads: "My words are my faith, to hell with a good name". He suggests that not only will he continue to write what he wants, regardless of the consequences, but that even the critics actually want to hear what he's saying, no matter what they say aloud. Inside, Wentz thinks, there's a need for his words, for Fall Out Boy's music, to be out there. "A remix of your guts, your insides x-rayed/And one day we'll get nostalgic for disaster/We're a bull, your ears are just a china shop".

But let's go back and examine the song's chorus. The two parts that make it up have a double meaning, in that they can either be discussing Wentz's troubled relationship to his own life and his own self-image culminating in his suicide attempt, or an actual relationship with another person. His lyrics recall teenage exuberance, making out in parked cars, and unreasonable, fleeting declarations of love. "So hum hallelujah/Just off the key of reason/I thought I loved you;/It was just how you looked in the light." The idea that someone can believe that they're in love with someone else just by way of the light levels is, of course, an exaggeration. But it's not that far from the truth when you're young and "just off the key of reason". Wentz further skewers the idealistic confusion of teenage lust with love when he plays on the famous marriage vow "'til death do us part". "A teenage vow in a parking lot:/'Til tonight do us part,'" he writes. This love isn't everlasting, it's one-night-only.

And then, finally, whether it's that he's over life in general or over the girl or both: "I'll sing the blues and swallow them too", clearly referring to his depressed state and his Ativan overdose.

For the final verse I'm going to focus on the first two lines, which are among my favorite by any band ever, and definitely my top Fall Out Boy lines.

"I love you in the same way there's a chapel in a hospital:/One foot in your bedroom and one foot out the door".

These lines sum up what is absolutely, insanely great about Fall Out Boy. It's not that the words themselves are particularly complex or intriguing. But Wentz brings together a mish-mash of concepts and thoughts and unifies them into a concise, clever statement that somehow actually manages to mean something in the context of the song. So let's break it down. As stated before, already know that there are two parallel threads at work here: a fleeting teenage "love," and Wentz's Ativan overdose.

As far as the former goes, given Wentz's attitude, when the line starts with "I love you in the same way..." even if you don't understand the correlation between chapels and hospitals, you know it can't be a good thing. As it turns out, it's "one foot in your bedroom and one foot out the door". This should be clear enough: he loves the girl enough to sleep with her, but not enough to commit; or, if you prefer, not enough to even spend the night with her afterward. He's only interested in the short-term benefits of the relationship.

As for the "chapel in a hospital" thing, it's something you have to wrap your head around, but I think that what Wentz is trying to get at here is how ridiculous it is to have a chapel, a place where funeral services are held, inside a hospital where people are ostensibly trying to get better. A hospital tries to keep people alive while a chapel ushers them into death, so the people in the hospital are caught in the middle, neither truly living nor truly dead, "one foot in [the] bedroom," their hospital bed, "and one foot out the door," out of life and into death.

Any way you look at it, the result is a sort of stasis between two extremes-- and as Wentz will write three years later in the song "She's My Winona": "Hell or glory/I don't want anything in between". Well, one foot in the bedroom and one out the door is neither hell nor glory, it's exactly what Wentz is looking to avoid. That average, noncommittal middle ground between love and lust, life and death, hell and glory is the worst place of all-- and Wentz needs an escape. Ativan here we come.

The last few paragraphs are quite a bit for a few simple lines, eh? Great, great stuff, and strangely, not as depressing as you'd think-- it's almost uplifting in a way, as the chorus of "hallelujahs" seems to transport Wentz (and by extension, the song) out of the mire and into a more peaceful status quo.

...well, that was a little less focused than I would have liked, but I think I got the basic message across. I suppose it's Third Generation Emo Month here at Slipping Into The Airwaves, because next week we're going to analyze a track from my current obsession, Panic! At the Disco's Vices & Virtues.

Hiatus

Much like a sitcom, Slipping Into the Airwaves is on hiatus this week while I fly to Rhode Island for my cousin's wedding. If I can manage to write up a post I will, but I don't know yet how (or if) that's going to play out.

Jack's Mannequin: Holiday From Real (2005)

You knew that I would have to get to Jack's Mannequin eventually. It's the current project of Andrew McMahon from Something Corporate fame and the band from which I drew the title of this blog (although not from this song, but rather this one). Let's listen to the first song from his first album:



Holiday From Real

She thinks I'm much too thin
She asks me if I'm sick
What's a girl to do with friends like this?

She lets me drive her car
So I can score an eighth
From the lesbians out west in Venice

Oh, California in the summer
Oh, and my hair is growing long
Fuck yeah, we can live like this

But if you left it up to me
Every day would be a holiday from real
We'd waste our weeks beneath the sun
We'd fry our brains and say it's so much fun
Out here

When it's all over
I'll come back another year

I look for work today
I'm spillin' out the door
Put my glasses on so no one sees me

I never thought that I'd be livin' on your floor
But the rents are high and L.A.'s easy

Oh, it's a picture of perfection
Oh, and the postcard's gonna read
Fuck yeah, we can live like this
We can live like this

But if you left it up to me
Every day would be a holiday from real
We'd waste our weeks beneath the sun
We'd fry our brains and write it's so much fun
Out here

Hey Madeline
You sure look fine
You wore my favorite sweater
Being poor was never better
A safety buzz
Some cheap red wine
Oh, the trouble we could get in
So let's screw this one up right

But if you left it up to me
Every day would be a holiday from real
We'd waste our weeks beneath the sun
We'd lie and tell our friends it's so much fun
Out here

When it's all over
I'll come back for another
When it's all over
I'll come back for another year
-----------------

As with last week's song, the lyrics are actually pretty straightforward. Upbeat, poppy, and piano-driven, it's typical Jack's Mannequin. Bonus points for being about Southern California, where I've lived my whole life. It's an anthem for laid-back living down here.

McMahon discusses spending his time essentially getting drunk ("A safety buzz/Some cheap red wine"), high ("I can score an eighth"), and fooling around with girls ("Madeline/You sure look fine...Oh, the trouble we could get in"). It's great! He sings about "California in the summer" and exclaims "Fuck yeah, we can live like this". As I said, a perfect anthem.

You can choose to see the song this way, and it's perfectly fine, you can nod your head to the beat and sing along. But...you would be entirely wrong.

The beauty of the lyrics here is that it's not a song about the perfection of California, but rather McMahon's slow realization that his life there is a complete mess. The first lines are sung with a bit of attitude: "She thinks I'm much too thin/She asks me if I'm sick/What's a girl to do with friends like this?" We can take this at face value, that he's either starving or addicted to drugs or both, but the tone is clearly one of defiance; when McMahon sings "what's a girl do with friends like this?", he's almost mocking the girl for caring about him.

(Eerily, these lines also foreshadow that in real life McMahon will actually become sick-- he was diagnosed with leukemia shortly before releasing this album. The number of references to doctors and illness on Everything in Transit . Maybe somehow his subconscious already knew about his illness, or maybe it's just coincidental. Either way, it's quite a trip.)

Throughout the rest of the song, we get little clues that maybe McMahon's California summer isn't idyllic as it seems. This is especially true in the chorus, when he sings that "We'd waste our weeks beneath the sun/We'd fry our brains and say it's so much fun/Out here". The word choices here are extremely important; he's not spending his weeks under the sun or treasuring them or feeling good about them or whatever he should be doing: it's a "waste". He's on drugs ("fry our brains") and says that it's so much fun. Again, word choices: McMahon doesn't assert that his time is actually fun, just that he'll say it is when talking to his friends.

We've already discussed how in the song, McMahon is on drugs and possibly starving. He's also out of work and embarrassed about it ("I look for work today...put my glasses on so no one sees me") and doesn't even have his own place to live ("I never thought that I'd be livin' on your floor/But the rents are high"). This life isn't the actual ideal that he's claiming it as, just a "picture of perfection". In this context, when he sings "Fuck yeah, we can live like this/We can live like this", it's much less of a proclamation and more like he's trying to convince himself. The same goes for when he states that "being poor was never better". At that point, it's almost become a joke.

Hammering the point home, in the final chorus McMahon changes the words up slightly and sings that he would "lie and tell [his] friends it's so much fun". If it wasn't already clear, this clinches it: everything he's said about the greatness of his California living is a lie, an illusion. The title "Holiday From Real" now takes on a kind of double meaning. Not only is this life a holiday from real due to the drugs and drinking, but McMahon's own perception of his life, his health, his well-being, is unreal. He sings that "when it's all over, [he'll] come back for another year"-- but as with the line that "we can live like this", it doesn't sound like he's coming back to something amazing. Rather, it sounds like he's trapped in a downward spiral.

On the up side, we do know that McMahon eventually does pull out of it. In a standalone song called "The Lights and Buzz", he describes returning to California after making a recovery from his battle with cancer. The echoes from the summer that he spent here follow him everywhere, as "it's Christmas in California/And it's hard to ignore that it feels like summer all the time". But he's also come back older and wiser, and doesn't want to fall into the same traps, singing, "This place is paradise, I'm sure/Here's my reservation/I got lost here once before/Inside a good vibration."

Whether McMahon's escape from the worst part of the California lifestyle was solely due to his illness wresting him forcefully from it or because he finally came to his senses and left his "holiday from real", we know things turn out okay for him in the end. "It's good to be alive", he sings throughout "The Lights and Buzz", and it really is an affirmation and a bookend to "Holiday From Real". At any rate, it's more life-affirming than the somehow-appropriate fake glossy sheen of that song.

I do love a happy ending.

Next week, I'm going to give one more shot to Fall Out Boy and make a better attempt to show you all why they are just so terribly witty. Trying and failing is better than not trying at all, right?

The Format: Matches (2006)

I'm tempted not to follow through on what I said last week, which was that I would discuss a song by The Format. As I posted over two months ago when we looked a fun.'s "Be Calm", Nate Ruess' tale of breakup and personal evolution is "spread across three separate albums and nearly seven years of music," which includes this song off of 2006's Dog Problems. However, part of me realizes we've been looking at a lot of music focusing on relationships-- and there is more diverse subject matter out there if you actually take a look.

So how about this? A relatively simple relationship song this week, then a song that has nothing to do with relationships next week. We'll get back to fun. and The Format in due time. Deal? Deal.

For now, though, here we go:



Matches

Ashes to ashes, dust on the dash
I got my cigarettes
But I can't find the fire that's calming me down

I was just out on a night with my friends
You are still out on a night with your friends
And you don't seem to tire when I'm not around

I'm under the tunnel now, holding my breath

I searched every pocket that hung in the closet
Until I found some matches in a brown leather jacket
One I swore I'd never worn, but it once kept you warm

Do you remember we made love on the floor?

And you still haven't called
So I wait 'til they're closing the bars

I made a wish, but the match never lit
-----------------

Not exactly the deepest lyrics, but I told you I was going for something simple this week. The music here actually does a lot more of the heavy lifting in terms of setting the mood.

Chronologically, we can place this song before "Be Calm". In "Be Calm", Ruess has moved to a new city and is attempting to get over a relationship; we can safely assume that that relationship is the one that he discusses here in "Matches". If the lyrics here are any indication, that relationship is running swiftly towards its end.

"Ashes to ashes, dust on the dash" is clearly a play off of "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" which is commonly said at funerals. Here, Ruess holds his own impromptu funeral, thinking about a number of different moments in his failed relationship and slowly getting more and more emotional about the whole thing. He searches for a match to light a cigarette to calm his nerves but can't find one: "I got my cigarettes/But I can't find the fire that's calming me down."

The second verse is one of my favorite parts of the song, as it exposes the dichotomy between the two involved parties simply by twisting one line. "I was just out on a night with my friends/You are still out on a night with your friends". And then the key line: "And you don't seem to tire when I'm not around". Not only are Ruess and his girl distant physically, hanging out with their separate groups of friends instead of with each other, but she seems full of life with him not there. She stays up and stays out much later when he's not with her, as if she's avoiding him. Meanwhile, Ruess waits for her to come home, leading to the later lines "And you still haven't called/So I wait 'til they're closing the bars".

As it gets later and later, Ruess loses it more and more, frantically searching through his closet for the matches he thinks will calm him down. If only he could heed his own advice from "Be Calm"-- but he's not at a point where he can do that, just yet. Instead, he comes across what he's looking for in a jacket "that [he] swore [he'd] never worn, but it once kept [his girl] warm." This brings back a flood of memories, and Ruess is at his most desperate when he asks "do you remember we made love on the floor?" The music, previously consisting of a sparse, simple carnival ditty in the background, suddenly swells up to accompany Ruess' state of mind. It's dizzying, and perfectly reflects the feeling you might get when thinking of the good times that you had with someone now out of reach.

The song ends with the simple statement "I made a wish, but the match never lit". What is Ruess' wish? That his relationship can revert back to something good? That he can finally break up with the girl once and for all and end his suffering? We don't get to know, but we see only that it doesn't come true; the match doesn't light, the cigarette that he thinks will lead him back to sanity instead remains unlit.

It's important to note that in the context of this one song, the relationship hasn't yet ended. It's not a breakup song-- those often carry with them strong emotions; either "fuck you, thank god I'm through with you", or else they idealize the other party and the relationship itself, with a message along the lines of "I can't believe I didn't appreciate what I had." "Matches" is neither of these, though. It's the inexorable, slow decay of a relationship that was once passionate and alive, with Ruess teetering on the precipice of what might be a total breakdown.

It's a great moment to immortalize, if not very fun. to experience.

For some reason, all this talk of bars and relationships remind me of a couple lines from Kevin Smith's Chasing Amy. The male and female leads, Holden and Alyssa, are lightly flirting with each other at a bar when they see a young couple outside making out on the hood of a car:

HOLDEN
Look at that, though - kind of gives you a little charge, to see two people in love. You've gotta respect that kind of display of affection. It's crazy, rude, self-absorbed - but it's love.

ALYSSA
That's not love.

HOLDEN
Says you.

ALYSSA
That out there...that's fleeting.

I'm not sure who I agree with on the subject, but given the content of "Matches", Nate Ruess would probably side with Alyssa, don't you think?

Still, isn't that crazy, affectionate, makeout, "making love on the floor" phase kind of the polar opposite of the slow descent into breakup? Two sides of the coin, the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. Given that, it's probably love, but it's also a specific brand, a very fleeting kind of love.

The trick is learning how to make that initial spark last through the vast middle expanse.

And also to not be scared shitless by what it might lead to. I'm working on it. Before I come to any conclusions, I have a feeling I will owe a lot of apologies.

Either way, if I figure these things out, I will let you know how.

Mixing it Up, Part I

Today we're going to take a short break from analysis and instead do something that is very near and dear to my heart: make a mix CD. Everyone who's anyone knows that you can't just slap random songs on a disc haphazardly and expect people to like the music you've given them. A good album, one that you can listen to from start to finish, has natural ups and downs, ebbs and flows-- like an expanded version of a really good song. Whenever I'm making a mix, my goal is to bring the disparate songs together to form a whole that flows musically from beginning to end. If I can somehow have get it to flow thematically as well, all the better, but that's obviously a rare occurrence.

So let's take the ten songs we've talked about here and lay them out to see what we've got. In my humble opinion, ten songs is just about the minimum acceptable length for an album: any less, and the listener feels cheated. The optimum length is probably somewhere around 12-13, but ten is what we have, so that's what I'm going with.

The Smashing Pumpkins- Muzzle
fun.- Be Calm
Jets to Brazil- Perfecting Loneliness
The Smashing Pumpkins- To Sheila
Jimmy Eat World- Kill
The Decemberists- Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)
Fall Out Boy- It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't
Panic! at the Disco- When the Day Met the Night
The New Pornographers- Crash Years
Death Cab for Cutie- Company Calls Epilogue

The first order of business is to pick the songs that are going to go first and last on the mix. For the first track, I like to find something that introduces the listener to what they're about to hear without totally immersing them in it. Something that gives a hint of the musical goodness to come without being overwhelming. And the last song, ideally, will serve as a coda, a reminder of what they've heard while transitioning out into nothingness (or, even better, back to the beginning of the mix again).

Presumably, the people who created the albums from which we pulled the source material were thinking about song order as well; as such, a good starting point is to pick out the songs that were put first and last on their respective albums. From this list, we have "To Sheila" and "Be Calm" as first tracks, and "It's Hard to Say 'I Do' When I Don't" as a closer. While "Be Calm" is a perfectly viable option, I'm going to start with "To Sheila" for the moment due to its quiet nature. There's nothing wrong with an opening track with some pop to it, though. Meanwhile "It's Hard to Say 'I Do' When I Don't" gets slotted last by default. It rocks a little harder than an album ender should, in my opinion, and was really only the final track on some random special edition of Infinity on High, but we'll leave it for the moment. The audio bit at the end of the song that says "Now press repeat" makes it hard to put it anywhere else.

1) The Smashing Pumpkins- To Sheila
10) Fall Out Boy- It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't

Now that we have the bookends, it makes it easier to fill in the middle. What I like to do with the second track of a mix is to switch up the tempo somewhat. Since we began with the slow, dreamy "To Sheila", our second track should capture some energy and rachet up the intensity. Probably the best choice to do this would be "Muzzle", but there's no reason to have the two Smashing Pumpkins tracks grouped together. If the listener thinks they're going to get a whole album of Smashing Pumpkins, they may not continue listening. This is the same reason for the tempo change; we don't want to give the impression that this is a mix full of ballads.

"Perfecting Loneliness" also seems like it might be a good choice, but its extended ending makes it difficult to place. While this didn't deter Jets to Brazil on Perfecting Loneliness (it was track four), we'll cast it to the side for now.

A number of the other songs we've analyzed maintain a quiet tone, so almost by default I'm going to put "Crash Years" down as track two. It doesn't rock out as much as I'd like, but it is a good tempo change and that should serve our purposes well enough.

The third track should, in a perfect world, take the momentum of the second and continue with it. Since we had enough trouble finding one track like this, finding two will be pretty impossible. However, "Be Calm" is extremely upbeat and frenetic. Even though it's going to sound a little wrong, since in my head it will always be the first track of an album, let's experiment and throw it down as track three.

This gives us great momentum going into song four, where we're going to switch it up again with something a little bit softer. "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)" seems perfect for this. It's not a total drop-off into mellow oblivion, but the harmonies and acoustic guitars keep it measured.

So now we have:

1) The Smashing Pumpkins- To Sheila
2) The New Pornographers- Crash Years
3) fun.- Be Calm
4) The Decemberists- Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)
10) Fall Out Boy- It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't

Halfway there! Sort of. But with this many songs placed, the rest becomes easier. "Kill" and "When the Day Met the Night" are perfect middle-of-the-mix songs, uptempo and introspective, but not particularly extreme. Slotting them at five and six seems reasonable. We'll put "Kill" first just because it has more of an edge to it and will probably sound good coming off of the lightweight "Yankee Bayonet".

Let's take a look at the three songs we have left:

The Smashing Pumpkins- Muzzle
Jets to Brazil- Perfecting Loneliness
Death Cab for Cutie- Company Calls Epilogue

Two of these songs are pretty hard rockers, while one is on par with "To Sheila" for its soft-spokenness. Since we know that "It's Hard to Say 'I Do' When I Don't" is going to close the album, we'll put the quiet "Company Calls Epilogue" right before it in order to offset it. That leaves "Perfecting Loneliness" and "Muzzle". Both songs feature roaring guitars, but I'm reticent to put "Perfecting Loneliness" before "Muzzle" due to its extended and understated ending; I feel like that will bring the energy to a standstill before "Muzzle" brings it up again, only to bring it back down for "Company Calls Epilogue"...I realize that the mix is based on soft vs. loud dynamics, but arranging the tracks that way is too much bouncing around for my tastes. So we'll go "Muzzle", then "Perfecting Loneliness", then "Company Calls Epilogue".

Now we've arrived at what is basically a first draft:

1) The Smashing Pumpkins- To Sheila
2) The New Pornographers- Crash Years
3) fun.- Be Calm
4) The Decemberists- Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)
5) Jimmy Eat World- Kill
6) Panic! At the Disco- When the Day Met the Night
7) The Smashing Pumpkins- Muzzle
8) Jets to Brazil- Perfecting Loneliness
9) Death Cab for Cutie- Company Calls Epilogue
10) Fall Out Boy- It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't

Given the time to do so, this is the point at which I'd like to go back and listen to the whole mix, front to back, to get a feel for whether or not it really does flow, as well as to listen for any obvious problem spots. Barring the time to do that, though, the best alternative is to listen to the first and last 15-30 seconds of each song. This will give a good idea of how the songs mesh.

Doing that with this mix yields a number of problems that we'll have to go back and fix: While "To Sheila" and "Crash Years" go well together, it's just wrong to have "Be Calm" as the third track. It doesn't work and gives the impression of the mix rebooting itself. Further, the end of the song, featuring trailing off violins, doesn't really fit with the beginning of the next track, "Yankee Bayonet". "Kill" and "When the Day Met the Night" are, as expected, just fine as tracks five and six, but the momentum that they start carries through all the way until the end of "Perfecting Loneliness" at track eight. Four tracks is too long of a time to carry on that energy, and it makes the drop into "Company Calls Epilogue" very precipitious.

So, easiest thing first. We'll move "Be Calm" into track one and cast aside "To Sheila". "Crash Years" no longer really works as track two anymore, coming off of the outro to "Be Calm", but we can switch "When the Day Met the Night" in the as new track two. This will relieve some of the pressure on that block of four energetic songs that I outlined above. "Crash Years" does, however, come off of "When the Day Met the Night" nicely, so we have a new first three tracks.

This, of course, has ruined nearly everything else. This new opening trio is very nice, but lacks any real punch. Despite the "now press repeat" bit at the end of "It's Hard to Say 'I Do' When I Don't", I've never really liked it as the final track. What if we put it after "Crash Years"? The answer is that it offsets the calm of the first few tracks, and I like it enough in that position to ignore the stupid ending. Dialing down the energy only a little bit, "Kill" is a logical choice for the next track.

After those two stronger songs, I'm very tempted to slot in "Yankee Bayonet", but "Company Calls Epilogue" absolutely killed the flow last time, placed near the end as it was. If we have a song energetic enough as a later juxtaposition, we can put it in the middle here as song six. And we do-- "Muzzle", roaring the mix back to life with song seven. What we have so far, then, is:

1) fun.- Be Calm
2) Panic! At the Disco- When the Day Met the Night
3) The New Pornographers- Crash Years
4) Fall Out Boy- It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't
5) Jimmy Eat World- Kill
6) Death Cab for Cutie- Company Calls Epilogue
7) The Smashing Pumpkins- Muzzle

with these songs left over:

Jets to Brazil- Perfecting Loneliness
The Decemberists- Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)
The Smashing Pumpkins- To Sheila

I'm very tempted to place "Perfecting Loneliness" last. The way that the song spirals out into space would be a great way to end the mix-- but then that would leave us without a spot for "To Sheila". Maybe we can use the soft ending of "Perfecting Loneliness" as a bridge to "To Sheila", which will cap off the mix rather than begin it. Given no other choice, then, we have to put "Yankee Bayonet" before both of those-- and hope that the energy, while a step down from "Muzzle" and "Perfecting Loneliness", doesn't completely halt the momentum we have going. Second draft time:

1) fun.- Be Calm
2) Panic! At the Disco- When the Day Met the Night
3) The New Pornographers- Crash Years
4) Fall Out Boy- It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't
5) Jimmy Eat World- Kill
6) Death Cab for Cutie- Company Calls Epilogue
7) The Smashing Pumpkins- Muzzle
8) The Decemberists- Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)
9) Jets to Brazil- Perfecting Loneliness
10) The Smashing Pumpkins- To Sheila

And it's back to the same process as before, listening for what works and what doesn't, paying close attention to the transitions between songs. You'll notice that almost nothing stayed in its position from our first attempt. That doesn't make what I said invalid, though; putting the songs in a certain order with certain dynamics in mind let us see what worked and what didn't work with this particular group of tracks.

This one turned out much better! Tracks 4-7 in particular really fit together well. "Be Calm" works much better to open the album, and "Perfecting Loneliness" transitions into "To Sheila" in the hoped-for manner.

Only a couple of things still bother me: one, I can't get used to "To Sheila" as a closer rather than an opener, though it does loop into the first track nicely. Second, "When the Day Met the Night" doesn't quite follow "Be Calm" as well as I'd initially thought. Finally, while "It's Hard to Say 'I Do' When I Don't" works really well positioned where it is, that damn audio bit at the end annoys the hell out of me.

Do these things need to be addressed? If I had the time, I would literally edit out the "now press repeat" on "It's Hard to Say 'I Do' When I Don't". It's not song-specific (it appeared at the end of every edition of Infinity on High, regardless of the song that preceded it) and adds nothing, so I wouldn't feel bad lopping it off. While "To Sheila" irks me as an ending song, it actually doesn't sound bad-- and someone unfamiliar with the song's original placement would have no idea.

That leaves us with only one real issue, the transition between our new songs one and two. I'm not about to rearrange everything just to solve one minor problem. It's good enough as is. Time to burn it and draw in a new listener!

And remember, people-- always provide a tracklist with your mix so that people know what they're listening to and can ask you for more when they're done.

Whew, that was a long one, and as usual, took much longer than I expected. I hope it was an interesting one for everyone, as well. Next week we'll return to our usual programming with Nate Ruess' old band, The Format. Stay tuned!

Jets to Brazil: Perfecting Loneliness (2002)

I never thought that writing about lyrics would have me looking up how to smoke meth out of lightbulbs, but so goes the life of the blog writer (?). We can often veer off into unexpected directions. And hey, now I'm prepared, should the need to smoke meth ever arise and I don't have a pipe handy.

Anyway. Today's selection is the title track from Jets to Brazil's final album, Perfecting Loneliness. Lead singer/lyricist Blake Schwarzenbach is better known for his previous band, Jawbreaker, which some say was a pioneer group in the punk/emo/indie rock scene. But Jets is the band that I knew about growing up, so Jets is what you're gonna get.

"Perfecting Loneliness" sums up what's great about Jets to Brazil, and is probably my favorite song of theirs. There are moments of hard rock juxtaposed with moments of tenderness and honesty, all underscored by a kind of quiet desperation. It's really too bad that the rest of the album is so hit-or-miss; as such, the song stands as a real what-could-have-been.



Perfecting Loneliness

I'm a long list with no time.
Sunset panic on the street.
Sugar and lightbulbs:
the milk of kindness is behind us now.
With all those stones in your coat,
did you think they wouldn't know?

The tea leaves of trash sheets:
dirty needles and sweets.
Zero to heaven in seven:
a lifetime, a nanosecond.
All the sand in your glass
is going by so fast.

The radio is playing our tune.
I love it, could you turn it down?
The thought of you crying in my room...
I miss you, could you come around sometime?

When the night comes down,
the world becomes a room
under a microscope
with a labcoat and glue.
I'm fixing this hole
with everything I knew.

The music is making my head split.
I love it, could you turn it off?
The thought of you is tearing me in two...
I miss you, could you come around sometime? Sometime?

This list is what went right:
your name is written twice.
'Cause we live like astronauts
and our missions never cross.
The stakes are high--
we're standing by.

There used to be a hundred a ways to put my arms around you--
every one seemed new, natural, and true.
Perfecting loneliness 'til nothings holding us.
Consider Earth:
we could be the first.
-----------------

What is there to take from this song? As I alluded to in the intro to this post, the drug references are heavy and come often. "Perfecting Loneliness" is centered around a methamphetamine addict, and Schwarzenbach describes the conditions of her living: she's surrounded by "sugar and lightbulbs...trash sheets...dirty needles and sweets". The sugar, sweets, and lightbulbs are the clues here that what we're dealing with is meth: lightbulbs can be used to smoke it, and addicts coming off of it often crave sweets uncontrollably. Also, Schwarzenbach talks about "all those stones in [her] coat"...stones = rocks = crystal meth. There we go.

So the girl in the song has become an addict and her life seems unpleasant and also a total mess, but she probably wasn't always this way; Schwarzenbach probably used to date her, as he discusses "the radio...playing [their] tune" and says "I miss you, could you come around sometime?" He also knows the seriousness of her condition, acknowledging that "all the sand in [her] glass/is going by so fast"; if something doesn't change, she's going to die. This situation then clarifies some of the other lines in the song, such as in the beginning when Schwarzenbach states that he has "no time" and there is "sunset panic on the streets". Schwarzenbach is trying to find and help the girl before she uses again, but "when the night comes down/the world becomes a room/under a microscope/with a lab coat and glue", referencing to a meth lab.

I can't go further without pointing out what a strange structure this song has. Not the traditional verse/chorus/verse/chorus by any means, instead it goes something like this: verse/verse/bridge/verse/bridge/chorus/outro. It's generally not the best idea for your song's chorus to only play once, because that...is kind of not the point of a chorus. Nevertheless, that's exactly what happens here, so we had better pay it very close attention.

"This list is what went right:/your name is written twice". This isn't the first place that Schwarzenbach talks about lists. The very first line of "Perfecting Loneliness" states "I'm a long list". As much as these two statements might help clarify the other, it's still a very vague premise. Still, I'll take a shot. If Schwarzenbach is himself a "list"-- well, what are we made up of? Memories, experiences, feelings. If this girl's name is "written twice" on his list, that must mean that what he's shared with her is more important to her than any other part of his life. She's the part of him that is most treasured, and everything that "went right" for him.

So now we can understand why he's so distraught. This person, once so important to him, is spiraling out of control. As sung in the bridge, Schwarzenbach's helplessness is "tearing [him] in two", but he's unsure what to do about the situation and feels the girl drifting further and further away-- leading to the chorus' metaphor "we live like astronauts/and our missions never cross". Once so close, the two now travel in different circles, and their lives are almost entirely separate.

"The stakes are high:/we're standing by"...the stakes, obviously, being not only their relationship but the girl's life. All he feels he can do is wait to see how things turn out.

In the outro to the song, Schwarzenbach describes the way that things used to be in this relationship-- warm, safe, comfortable. "There used to be a hundred ways to put my arms around you--/every one seemed new, natural, and true". An amazing, understated way to describe the comfort of a great relationship. But now their arms aren't around each other, and Schwarzenbach misses the person that the girl used to be ("perfecting loneliness 'til nothing's holding us").

He ends by begging the girl to "Consider Earth:/we could be the first". To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what this means, but it somehow manages to infuse at least a glimmer of hope into the song. Keeping with the metaphor of astronauts, maybe it makes more sense to think about these lyrics from the perspective of those in outer space, where the view of Earth is (I've heard, not experienced) absolutely breathtaking. Perhaps Schwarzenbach here just wants her to have a new perspective on life, to consider the beauty that exists not only on earth but in the universe at large. Essentially saying 'you have so much to live for'.

As for "we could be the first"...well, they certainly wouldn't be the first two people to overcome addiction or to stabilize their lives and relationship. Still, there's something to be said for how being in love can cause us to feel like we're the only people out there who have ever felt a certain way or experienced certain things. If the vast universe causes us to expand our worldview, love causes us to narrow it-- not necessarily in a bad way. Perhaps Schwarzenbach is just describing that exhiliration, how good it would feel if things somehow worked out-- like they were the only people to ever have a happy ending to their story.

I am open to other interpretations.

Continuing on, the song slowly trails off toward its ending, bringing the astronaut metaphor into reality by steering the listener through space; clips of different NASA transmissions are played in the background. I'm unsure of the source of all of them, but from what I can make out, they're at the very least from the Apollo 8 and Apollo 11 missions, Apollo 11 including the first people to reach the moon. So maybe we are really supposed to think about the visions of the Earth that the astronauts must have had from that perspective. Regardless, it gives the listener the impression of floating out there in the darkness with Schwarzenbach.

I'll leave you with one of the few audible lines of the transmissions. It's the last one in the song, and perfectly sums up "Perfecting Loneliness," so much so that I can't really add anything else:

"It's a magnificent sight out here...magnificent desolation."

Panic! At the Disco: When the Day Met the Night (2008)

As I continue to write these posts delving into the lyrical meanings of some of my favorite songs, it occurs to me time and time again that the interpretations of the songs that I give here are, of course, only my opinion. While I often write as if what I'm saying is fact, it's really just whatever meaning of the song is true to me, based on what I can glean from the lyrics and what I know about the songwriters/band. That's the great thing about music: what I get out of it might not be the same thing that you get out of it might not be the same thing that my mother gets out of it, but that doesn't make any of our interpretations any less valid. So with that in mind, let's have a listen to this week's selection:



When the Day Met the Night

When the moon fell in love with the sun
all was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night

When the sun found the moon
she was drinking tea in her garden
under the green umbrella trees
in the middle of summer

When the moon found the sun
he looked like he was barely hanging on
but her eyes saved his life
in the middle of summer

In the middle of summer
all was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
Summer
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
Summer, summer, summer
All was golden when the day met the night

So he said, "Would it be all right
If we just sat and talked for a little while?
If in exchange for your time
I gave you this smile?"

So she said, "That's okay.
As long as you can make a promise
not to break my little heart
or leave me all alone in the summer."

Well, he was just hanging around
then he fell in love
And he didn't know how
but he couldn't get out
Just hanging around
then he fell in love

In the middle of summer
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
Summer
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night

When the moon fell in love with the sun
all was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
-----------------

This song probably has the most simplistic lyrics of any of the songs we've looked at so far. It's evident that most people just kind of take them at face value, too. As the first post on the songmeanings page for "When the Day Met the Night" states (spelling corrected for maximum sanity): "I think the moon and sun are supposed to be synonyms for a guy and a girl. Then the rest of the song would be kinda self-explanatory." It's perfectly reasonable to look at the song this way: the moon stands for a lonely and/or depressed man who "looked like he was barely hanging on" before he met a woman, the sun, who "saved his life". As is often the case, he didn't mean to fall for her--"he was just hanging around/then he fell in love/And he didn't know how/but he couldn't get out"-- but obviously it turned out well for him, as "all was golden" afterward.

If you couldn't tell by this point, though, I tend to think that the lyrics are a really important part of music. Why such fondness for something so simple? Strangely, it's the last few seconds of "When the Day Met the Night" that add a layer of depth and make the song worthwhile. As the music begins to fade out, very faintly in the background, you can hear the sound of a group of children playing together, and a little girl gives a playful scream.

No kidding, I was almost brought to tears the first time that I heard this. At first, I couldn't figure out why I was having that particular reaction, especially to something that seems so inconsequential. But then it hit me. It's not like I hang around a lot of kids, or people with kids. Even if I do interact with some who are the children of my parents' friends or whatever, it's not like there's a big group of them all playing together. And I'm definitely not the shady pedophile hanging out at the local park (you can breathe a sigh of relief).

Seriously, though-- It had been over a decade since I had heard kids playing like that! Since I was a kid myself. It really brought me back to that time and gave the song some depth.

This is why I brought up the topic of different individuals' interpretations of the same song. It's very likely that for someone else listening to this song, what seems like an out-of-place, high-pitched shriek at the end would annoy him or her, or at the very least not be anything in which to take a particular interest.

But I really do think that most professional musicians (or at least the good ones) try not to sully their work with random bits of sound for no reason. If they're interested at all in creating nuanced, complex work, there has to be a method to the madness and a reason for everything they put into their music, or else it will come off as haphazard. So there has to be an explanation-- why would Panic! At the Disco mix these sounds into an otherwise normal song? To me, it has to be in order to elicit the emotion that I felt while listening to it: a deep nostalgia for childhood.

Viewed in this context, the lyrics as a whole start to come into focus. They're almost like something out of a child's storybook-- purposefully simplistic, with lots of broad, colorful imagery, as well as characters who have their hearts on their sleeve.

When the man meets the woman, she's "drinking tea in her garden/under the green umbrella trees". This instantly brings to mind images of outdoor tea parties, which are, of course, the stereotypical specialty of little girls. So it's not really a man meeting a woman at all, but more of a boy meeting a girl. Again, this is totally my interpretation, but it seems to hold under the weight of the song: it's about being a child and having feelings for a girl for the first time.

The characters' words are simple yet sincere, very straightforward-- "Would it be all right if we just sat and talked for a little while, if...I gave you this smile?" The response: "As long as you can make a promise not to break my little heart". It's naive, but it's charming in its own way. And finally, furthering my theory are the abundant references to the summer, that time of freedom and vacation that exists basically only for kids and people working in television. Score.

I guess the bottom line here is two-fold: one, the lyrics of a song alone don't always convey its full meaning. It's not always totally necessary to go as in-depth into the words as some of these posts have been (although it often is-- which is the point, of course). Two, I like to latch onto small bits of nothing and expand them into insane theories. This does not only apply to music.

Ahem.

Join me next week when I celebrate my ten-week anniversary writing these things. And then, the week after, a little something different.

The Smashing Pumpkins: To Sheila (1998)

I was fourteen years old on June 2, 1998, when The Smashing Pumpkins' album Adore was released. This was back in those halcyon days before the internet made everything instantly downloadable two weeks before the official release date; when a "release date" was actually an anticipated event. The local rock station in LA had been playing the pre-release single, "Ava Adore," on heavy rotation for weeks, and it seemed like the stars were aligning for another Smashing Pumpkins success three long years after 1995's Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness had gone eight times platinum. This new album was something that I could not live without.

But I was fourteen years old, and I did not have a car, and I did not have much money, and pretty much the only thing I could do was beg my parents to take me to the local music store and buy the CD for me. So I begged, and I begged, and I begged some more for good measure, and I was denied. In my frustration, I began to scrawl on bits of paper and tape them to various locations around the house. The front door. The door to my parents' bedroom. The landing at the top of the stairs. My fucking forehead. Each location, the same simple message:

"I WANT ADORE"

"I WANT ADORE"

"I WANT ADORE"

Mostly what I needed at that point was a blistering rock anthem capable of somehow expressing the ridiculous teenage torment I was feeling inside. A new Pumpkins album seemed like the perfect opportunity. And yet, and yet...when I finally made it to the store that next day, cracked the CD open, and began to listen, this is what I heard:


(I apologize for this shitty, unofficial video. It was all I could find.)

To Sheila

twilight fades
through blistered avalon
the sky's cruel torch
on aching autobahn
into the uncertain divine
we scream into the last divide

you make me real
you make me real
strong as I feel
you make me real

Sheila rides on crashing nightingales
intake eyes leave passing vapor trails
with blushing brilliance alive
because it's time to arrive

you make me real
you make me real
strong as I feel
you make me real

lately I just can't seem to believe
discard my friends to change the scenery
it meant the world to hold a bruising faith
but now it's just a matter of grace

a summer storm graces all of me
highway warm sing silent poetry
and I could bring you the light
and take you home into the night

lately I just can't seem to believe
discard my friends to change the scenery
it meant the world to hold a bruising faith
but now it's just a matter of grace
-----------------

Not exactly the anthem for which I had been hoping, but it really made me think about things in a different way. I'll get back to that later.

We talked last week about "Kill," which was a love song but-not-really a love song, a more emo-oriented expression of self-pity and inability to act on one's feelings. "To Sheila" is a love song wrapped up in a discussion of life changes. It's almost the antithesis of "Kill", which is hopelessly mired in inaction and in the past. "To Sheila" is all about moving forward.

The first verse deals with the fading of the old order, of whatever life Corgan feels that he's leaving behind. That day is just ending as "twilight fades". It's never easy to go through life changes, especially when it's impossible to tell what is coming next, and we very often resist this type of thing even if it might ultimately be good for us. "Into the uncertain divine/we scream into the last divide."

We can pretty much assume that the chorus is directed at "Sheila," since the song is called "To Sheila"-- whoever or whatever that may be. I like to think that Sheila is either a friend or a girlfriend helping Corgan with this difficult transition in his life. But "Sheila" might also be representative of Corgan's music as a whole, as he moves from the bombast of the Mellon Collie-era Pumpkins to the quiet, retrospective Adore-era. When Corgan sings "you make me real," it is directed towards his constant, whether that constant is embodied in a person or simply his passion for creating music; it's what is holding him together. The second part of the chorus is important too: "strong as I feel/you make me real". No matter how in-control he feels, or how much he feels he has his life together, he knows that "Sheila" is responsible for a large part of that, too.

The verse that comes next is packed with some fantastic imagery. Any reference to nightingales, at least for me, can't help but allude to that famous scene from Romeo and Juliet. In that scene, Juliet tries to convince Romeo to stay with her; that the birds they hear outside are nightingales, birds of the night, rather than larks, birds of the morning.  Corgan's reference to "crashing nightingales" possibly also heralds the morning, the imminent breaking of a new day. The line "intake eyes leave passing vapor trails," apart from being beautiful, brings to mind jet engines leaving their trails across the sky. Sheila, whoever or whatever she may be, is leaving a mark on Corgan, "with blushing brilliance alive"-- a description of the exhilaration he feels and a subtle nod to post-sex blush.

The bridge of "To Sheila" is where Corgan but quietly but powerfully gets to the point of the song, singing about the changes occurring in his life: "lately I just can't seem to believe/discard my friends to change the scenery". Haven't we all reached a point in our lives where we want to just forget about everything we know? I'm definitely familiar with the impulse to go somewhere else, start anew, especially after a big life change. Some people are actually capable of this and some aren't, and who knows whether it's actually a good idea, but the drive is still there.

We finally come to the absolute heart of "To Sheila", and possibly of the entirety of Adore itself: "It meant the world to hold a bruising faith/but now it's just a matter of grace". The "bruising faith" that Corgan refers to here can be interpreted as both heavy rock anthems of the Pumpkins' past and the angry attitude of disenfranchised youth that Corgan seems to know intimately. The alternative to these two things is simple: "grace", practically embodied in this delicate album-opener.

I'm almost hesitant to get into the final verse, given that the bridge is so powerful. But I'll outline it quickly: Corgan has now come to accept and embrace the change that he was resisting in the first verse. "A summer storm graces all of" him, and the use of "grace," repeated from the bridge, is important; it lets us know that this isn't a violent tempest but a light shower of water, a sign of rebirth. His perspective has changed; he's now ready to give back to this relationship, promising: "I [can] bring you the light/and take you home into the night." The fading twilight and the end of the old perspective now ring with a note of hope.

Really, though, all of what's important here has already been stated. I'll write it again: It meant the world to hold a bruising faith, but now it's just a matter of grace. Corgan repeats this as the song beautifully trails off into nothing, into the future, into this new night, into the unknown.

Fourteen-year-old me tried to take in the advice that the song and the album as a whole was trying to convey: there is another way. Not everything has to be a tantrum, not everything has to involve striking out against the cruel world. Poise, grace, and tranquility can function just as well. Acoustic finger-picking instead of blistering guitar solos is an acceptable musical choice. It all ties together.

But I was fourteen. Even if I saw there was another route, that doesn't mean that I was capable of taking it.

And even now, it seems like still blindly throwing notes up on the wall, petulantly demanding whatever it is that I can't have.

"I want (you to) adore (me)". Isn't that right?

Jimmy Eat World: Kill (2004)

Today's song is my personal favorite by longtime emo stalwarts Jimmy Eat World, from their album Futures. Though they're still active today and are still putting out some good music, in my humble opinion nothing can really match the work they did back in '04. Let's have a listen:



Kill

Well you're just across the street
Looks a mile to my feet
I want to go to you
Funny how I'm nervous still
I've always been the easy kill
I guess I always will

Could it be that everything goes around by chance
Or only one way that it was always meant to be
You kill me
You always know the perfect thing to say
I know what I should do but I just can't walk away

I can picture your face well
From the bar in my hotel
I wish I'd go to you
I pick up, put down the phone
Like your favorite Heatmiser song goes:
'It's just like being alone...'

Oh God, please don't tell me this has been in vain
I need answers for what all the waiting I've done means
You kill me
You've got some nerve but can't face your mistakes
I know what I should do but I just can't turn away

So go on, love
Leave while there's still hope for escape
Got to take what you can these days
There's so much ahead
And so much regret
I know what you want to say
I know it but can't help feeling differently
I loved you
And I should have said it
But tell me
Just what has it ever meant

I can't help it baby
This is who I am
I'm sorry but I can't just go turn off how I feel
You kill me
You build me up but just to watch me break
I know what I should do but I just can't walk away 
-----------------

The first thing that strikes me about this song is just how damn earnest it is. That's kind of one of Jimmy Eat World's strengths, and lead singer/songwriter Jim Adkins knows how to fuse the words with his voice to get across just the right kind of emotion.

This song is a pretty easy analysis. It's about love, yes, but unlike most love songs, there's not really any idealization of the other person present. It's got that emo tinge (despite how overwrought the term has become) that's more "realistic"-- love is flawed, love can be an unfortunate circumstance. "Kill" is all about that unfortunate circumstance; Adkins is in love with a girl that he shouldn't love, but he can't bring himself to tell her-- and furthermore, he feels like he's missed his chance to be with her. "I know what I should do but I just can't walk away."

But bringing it back to the start: the two main verses of the song deal with Adkins literally being unable to go tell a girl how he feels. "You're just across the street/looks a mile to my feet". He can't even pick up the phone and call her: "I wish I'd go to you/I pick up, put down the phone". It's clear that he knows the girl fairly well; whether she's an ex-girlfriend of Adkins or simply someone he wants to be with isn't clear. Nevertheless, he "can picture [her] face well," he knows her "favorite Heatmeiser song," and is aware of her strengths ("you always know the perfect thing to say") and her flaws ("you've got some nerve but can't face your mistakes"). Thinking of all of this kills Adkins inside-- even with her flaws, he's totally smitten by the girl.

The bridge contains probably the most important lyrics in the song, or at least the best. Adkins urges the girl to "leave while there's still hope for escape," because there's no use being stuck with a guy as indecisive as he is. The next lines nail the dichotomy: "there's so much ahead" for her "and so much regret" for him.

He knows "what she [wants] to say...but can't help feeling differently"; in other words, either that she doesn't or no longer loves him, despite his strong feelings for her. But it's nothing that he's ever communicated: "I loved you/And I should have said it". The way these lines are sung are amazing, and you can literally hear the regret and pain in Adkins' voice. Like I said before, it's just so earnest, so honest.

So the moral here is to seize the day, to stop being such a fuck-up and walk across the street, pick up the phone, be honest, let people know what you think of them before it's too late.

Okay. A stupid story about how Futures came to be in my possession: an aunt had sent the CD to my mom to pass on to me as a Christmas gift. She forgot all about it, my aunt came into town and, thinking she was relating to me, said "I just saw Jimmy Eat World on the Tonight Show. They were pretty good." I had no idea why the hell she was talking to me about Jimmy Eat World, couldn't get a bead on whether she was a fan or was somehow mocking me. So I kind of laughed awkwardly, made a joke, and brushed her off.

Only later that night, when my mom hastily gave me the unwrapped CD and said "this was supposed to be from your aunt" did I understand what had been happening there. I thought about approaching my aunt and apologizing for being a dick, but somehow the opportunity just never seemed right. I'd missed my window to right that ship.

Love can be like that, where you can't quite figure out what's going on until it hits you when it's too late. Everything depends so much on perfect timing, on two people occupying the same space, physically and emotionally, at the same time. "Star-crossed" as a term never seemed more apt. I've talked before about how music can sometimes drive me, and this is a great example. Adkins in "Kill" is relatable yet pathetic, paralyzed to the point of indecision, wanting more but knowing that opportunity has passed him by.

"I loved you, and I should have said it." The ultimate romantic regret.

"I'm sorry but I can't just go turn off how I feel." If you have feelings for someone, do you let them know, even if the timing isn't right? 

You tell me.

Fall Out Boy: It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't (2007)

It's strange, but essentially, the previous five weeks have been about establishing my credibility and legitimizing this one post that I am about to bring you. Fall Out Boy is awesome. But I fear that their myspace-styled overexposure and post-emo roots are going to relegate them to "that one band that the teenyboppers used to like" status (if it's not at that place already). So this will be my attempt to show the naysayers that there is actually a lot to like behind the distractions of male eyeshadow and swooping haircuts. It's not even my favorite Fall Out Boy track, simply the one with which I'm currently obsessed-- and after all, I have to save something for future posts, don't I?



It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't

I speak fast and I'm not gonna repeat myself
So listen carefully to every word I say:
I'm the only one who's gonna get away with making excuses today

You're appealing to emotions that I simply do not have
Blackmailed myself
'Cause I ain't got anyone else
This is a stick up
Give us all your inspiration
I've got the red carpet blues, baby

Put your hands in the air and don't make a sound
But don't get the wrong idea
We're gonna shoot you
We're gonna shoot you
And there's nothing in your head or pocket, throat or wallet
That could change just how this goes
No
We're gonna shoot you
We're gonna shoot you

When I said that I'd return to you I meant more like a relapse
Now and again I think "his and hers," "for better or worse"
But the only ring I want buried with me are the ones around my eyes

You're appealing to emotions that I simply do not have
I've got the red carpet blues baby

Put your hands in the air and don't make a sound
But don't get the wrong idea
We're gonna shoot you
We're gonna shoot you
And there's nothing in your head or pocket, throat or wallet
That could change just how this goes
And everyone shakes to the beat with a barrel down their throat
-----------------

Okay, so it doesn't exactly seem like the most eloquent writing, but there's actually a lot that's being said here. That's kind of the secret gift of Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump: to make catchy pop songs easily accessible but with multiple layers of meaning for those who are willing to dig a bit.

Before we get into the words, though, let's discuss Stump's style of singing. He often uses techniques that I've dubbed "repetition" and "withholding". I don't know if there's a real name for this kind of thing, but that's what I'm going with. This song isn't the most prominent example, but Stump will often repeat words, phrases, or even syllables, which creates a stuttering but frenetic energy in a number of Fall Out Boy's songs. You can hear this in certain lines of this track, when Stump creates a kind of vocal interplay with multiple layers of his voice: "Blackmailed myself/'Cause I ain't got ('cause I ain't got) anyone else".

Meanwhile, the witholding of certain expected lines subtlely subverts the traditionality of the verse-chorus-verse structure and is able to take the listener off-guard. You can see what I mean in the lyrics above-- the first bridge starts with "you're appealing to emotions that I simply do not have" and then has four lines in between that and "I've got the red carpet blues, baby". But when the bridge is repeated later in the song, we've now been trained to expect those middle lines-- and they're omitted entirely.

(I realize this is a common thread, but basically what I'm saying is that these songs are really, really fun to sing, once you've got the structure and timing down.)

As to the song's meaning: there's kind of three layers going on simultaneously here. Stump and Wentz have created the framework the story of a hostage situation, on which they can hang a discussion of their pet themes; namely, the music industry and troubled relationships.

So let's take a look at 1) The Hostage Situation.

This is the very surface-level interpretation of the song, taking almost everything that Stump sings literally. Ironically, considering what we just discussed about his style of singing, Stump says "I speak fast and I'm not gonna repeat myself". The first verse here is essentially the hostage-taker's instructions to his victims.

As we head into the bridge we come across probably the most important line of the song: "You're appealing to emotions that I simply do not have." It actually has a triple meaning, but in this context, we can safely assume that this is his way of quieting the pleas of his hostages; telling them that he doesn't have any sympathy for them. His desperation comes from loneliness ("I ain't got anyone else") and depression (he's holding these people hostage for their "inspiration"). And on this pass, "red carpet blues" brings to mind images of bloodstains.

The chorus is pretty self-explanatory, if a bit snide-- essentially Stump sings that everyone is going to get shot regardless of what they do, regardless of whether or not they follow his instructions. "Put your hands in the air...But don't get the wrong idea/We're gonna shoot you...there's nothing...that could change just how this goes." And the last line of the song, included in the final chorus ("everyone shakes to the beat with a barrel down their throat") just confirms that everyone does what they're told when in an untenable situation, in this case at gunpoint.

Sounds violent and terrible for pop rock with good hooks-- but it's okay because this insane situation simply serves as the backdrop for the things that Wentz and Stump really want to discuss. So we move on to 2) The Music Industry.

This song also serves to communicate Wentz and Stump's dissatisfaction with certain aspects of their fame and the business that they find themselves in. Instead of a literal hostage situation, it becomes metaphorical. "This is a stick up/give us all your inspiration" is now the cry of the music industry, trying to bend Fall Out Boy to their whims and suck out all the creativity to capitalize and monetize it. The line "I've got the red carpet blues" perfectly encapsulates this other layer of interpretation, and causes the chorus to take on a new meaning.

"Don't get the wrong idea/We're gonna shoot you" now references the press and papparazzi taking pictures of the members of Fall Out Boy, whether they like it or not. The lines "And there's nothing in your head or pocket, throat or wallet/That could change just how this goes" is an affirmation that there's no amount of money, no opinions they can give, no songs they can create or sing to make the fame just go away. They're stuck with it, both the good and the bad. Moreover, they rely on the fame to make their living-- it's the "barrel down their throat," so they're forced to do whatever's necessary to please others, please the public, please their record label.

As I mentioned before, the line "You're appealing to emotions that I simply do not have" is still of paramount importance. The feeling that it gives me with this particular interpretation is of Wentz and Stump smiling and taking pictures when they're on the spot, but not really feeling that happiness internally.

Finally we get to probably the most important interpretation of these lyrics, 3) The Troubled Relationship. This version ties itself into the title of the song, It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't, and we can see that at its core, the song is really about not wanting to commit to marriage-- Wentz views this as its own kind of hostage situation, caught between a life-long commitment that he doesn't want, or the death of the relationship. It's clear that he doesn't see this ending in holy matrimony; in this new light, the chorus can be re-examined. He feels like there's nothing that he can do, the relationship will be shot dead.

Yet he still has to make a decision-- and we can imagine the girl on the other side of the relationship arguing that she loves him, that their relationship needs to be heading towards a life together. His response? "You're appealing to emotions that I simply do not have." Cold! Even more so: the second verse, which really can't be explained via any of the other layers of interpretation. "When I said that I'd return to you I meant more like a relapse/Now and again I think "his and hers," "for better or worse"/But the only ring I want buried with me are the ones around my eyes". It's straightforward enough. Wentz sometimes thinks of being with this girl forever, but always comes to the conclusion that it's not something he wants. But how brutally honest is that? "The only ring I want buried with me are the ones around my eyes". I mean, I love it, but good lord, if I was that girl I would kick his ass. Still, even with these vehement refusals, we can't forget the final line, that "everyone shakes to the beat with a barrel down their throat". This presents at least the possibility that Wentz will agree to getting married when it finally comes down to it, even given the fact that he positions himself directly against it. Kind of a sad statement on making decisions in life, isn't it?

I hope you got something out of this today, but if not, don't fear-- I'll pick some better Fall Out Boy songs in the future. While this one is pretty good, there's a reason it was a b-side. It's not quite as catchy as some of their other work, and it really doesn't quite spotlight the great verbal gymnastic skills of the Stump/Wentz combo the way that I thought it would. We'll come back to these guys when the time is right. See you in seven.

The Decemberists: Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then) (2006)

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming. In weeks past, we've looked at lyrics that to varying degrees express the feelings or tell the stories of the people who wrote them. In contrast, The Decemberists' lead singer and songwriter Colin Meloy doesn't really do any of that. In a style that would be best defined as "literary," Meloy crafts stories about others, often using history or literature as a background. It's really ridiculously intellectual and sounds too pretentious to be true. But the songs are so damn catchy. Let's have a listen:



Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)

Heart-carved tree trunk, Yankee bayonet
A sweetheart left behind
Far from the hills of the sea-swelled Carolinas
That's where my true love lies

Look for me when the sun-bright swallow
Sings upon the birch bough high
But you are in the ground with the wolves and the weevils
All a'chew upon your bones so dry

But when the sun breaks
To no more bullets in Battle Creek
Then will you make a grave
For I will be home then
I will be home then
I will be home then
I will be home then
Then

When I was a girl how the hills of Oconee
Made a seam to hem me in
There at the fair when our eyes caught, careless
Got my heart right pierced by a pin

But oh, did you see all the dead of Manassas
All the bellies and the bones and the bile
Though I lingered here with the blankets barren
And my own belly big with child

But when the sun breaks
To no more bullets in Battle Creek
Then will you make a grave
For I will be home then
I will be home then
I will be home then
I will be home then

Stems and bones and stone walls too
Could keep me from you
Skein of skin is all too few
To keep me from you

But oh, my love, though our bodies may be parted
Though our skin may not touch skin
Look for me with the sun-bright sparrow
I will come on the breath of the wind
-----------------

How great is the back and forth between Meloy and Laura Veirs? That much alone would sell me on this song without anything else; luckily, the music and the lyrics are typically good, if a little straightforward. But let's dive in anyway.

Meloy sets the scene right from the beginning, mentioning a "heart-carved tree trunk" and "a sweetheart left behind" that instantly give the song an old-time feel. Does anyone actually carve hearts in trees anymore, or is posting "<3" on someone's wall about as close as we get? This imagery stands in contrast to modern times, and fits in with the open-air nature imagery that comes later. As for "a sweetheart left behind," at this point in the song it's unclear exactly what that means, but combined with "Yankee bayonet", we can at least understand that this story takes place during the Civil War, and that someone has left his love behind to fight in it.

The ambiguity of "left behind" doesn't last long. "Far from the hills of the sea-swelled Carolinas/That's where my true love lies". So not only has the soldier died and left his girl alone, but he did so "far from the...Carolinas," which is ostensibly their home. That would make the dead soldier a Confederate, and the "Yankee bayonet" is most likely the weapon that killed him.

Incidentally, "Far from the hills of the sea-swelled Carolinas" is one of my favorite Decemberists lines. Not only is it beautiful imagery describing these states (on the east coast and filled with rivers and lakes), but something about the line, either the way it is written or sung or both, really transmits the affection and nostalgia that this girl feels for her home.

The next verse seems to be the soldier repeating the words with which he tried to reassure the girl before leaving: "look for me when the sun-bright swallow sings," i.e. to remember him when she hears the birds singing. But the next line is a sobering reality that he is "in the ground". The contrast is stark and a little bit sickening, a reminder that war rarely brings good fortune for those directly involved.

"Yankee Bayonet"'s chorus follows up on this idea: the only way that the soldier "will be home" is when the war is over ("no more bullets in Battle Creek [another area of South Carolina]") and people "make a grave" for him.

A common theme that has been brought up while analyzing these various songs is that saying a lot in very few words = win. The verse that follows the chorus is an excellent study in this tenet. First, we get another fantastic couple of lines that I enjoy for the same reason I enjoyed the line about the "sea-swelled Carolinas" above. "When I was a girl how the hills of Oconee/Made a seam to hem me in"; Oconee being a county in South Carolina. It's pretty, it's nostalgic, and in addition it sets up the next lines perfectly. Before, the girl felt trapped, but after falling in love, she feels like her horizons have been expanded infinitely. We get their origin story in two simple and sweet lines: "There at the fair when our eyes caught, careless/Got my heart right pierced by a pin". That first moment when you realize that you're in love with someone, you get "your heart...pierced by a pin". Great phrasing.

Moving on. The soldier discusses "the dead of Manassas" in gory detail, letting us know that it was probably in one of the two Battles of Manassas (known as the Battles of Bull Run in the north, an interesting touch) where he died. Meanwhile, his love is at home, her "blankets barren" but her "belly big with child." I understand that Meloy is telling us that her bed is empty, but isn't "barren" an interesting word to use here, considering that it often means "infertile"? I doubt that anything more is meant by it than it simply being an interesting contradiction, but it's something to think on.

The short bridge that leads into the final verse is essentially the soldier's lament that his own mortality keeps him from returning home-- imagery of a gravesite is prevalent with "stems" (flowers), "bones" (um...bones), and "stone walls" (headstones). It also probably refers to Stonewall Jackson, a Confederate general who was an integral part of the Battles of Manassas referred to earlier.

Finally, the last verse is sung by both voices together, in contrast to the rest of the song. They're reunited, but only in that she thinks of him when observing the world around her, as was mentioned in a previous verse. "I will come on the breath of wind" is a great line and somehow manages to end this thoroughly depressing tale on an upbeat note. His memory is everywhere around her-- though interestingly, no further mention is made of their unborn child together.

So what's the bottom line? It's interesting to think about the fact that "Yankee Bayonet" presents as its sympathetic subject a Confederate soldier and his love. So often, the "heroes" of this time period, whether in movies, television, literature, or even history books, are those from the North, valiantly fighting the good fight against slavery. But not only is that not the viewpoint presented here, but almost nothing is mentioned of the politics driving the war. Aside from the mentions of geography, this song could be about any couple caught in the middle of any war. Maybe that's the message that Meloy is trying to drive home, and maybe the war he describes isn't so different from our current one after all--  at least in this way.

Whew. This was an absolutely ridiculous song to write about, not because the general meaning of the song was difficult to determine, but because of the depth and intelligence of Meloy's words. You can already tell from the way in which he writes that he's a pretty smart guy. But the way that he weaves words and stories and history and music together is pretty amazing. I had to actually do a good amount of internet research on the Civil War to connect all the dots. Even more amazing then, that his songs are as accessible as they are.

Well, some of his songs. We'll just ignore this whole debacle.

P.S.- I didn't really get a chance to talk about the rhythm of the song. I'm not a poetry expert for anything beyond iambic pentameter, but I'm pretty convinced that the majority of all of the verses are basically dactylic in nature. This involves one stressed syllable followed by two unstressed syllables. Within the song, it rarely if ever follows the rhythm by strict rule, but the infrastructure is there. Just like we discussed in fun.'s "Be Calm," it causes the song to be ridiculously catchy and makes it easy to sing along.

Death Cab for Cutie: Company Calls Epilogue (2000)

Okay, I admit it: I kind of lied. I told you that I would bring you a straightforward narrative this week, and while it's true that this week's lyrics tell a sort of story, it's not really the one I was planning on. We've been doing a lot of heavy analysis recently and I wanted to look at something a little more personal.



Company Calls Epilogue

Synapse to synapse: the possibility's thin
I'm dressed up for free drinks and family greetings
On your wedding, your wedding, your wedding date
The figures in plastic on the wedding cake
That I took were so real

And I kept my distance: the complications cloud
The postcards and blip through fiberoptics
As the girls with the pigtails
Were running from little boys wearing bowties
Their parents bought them: "I'll catch you this time!"

Crashing through the parlor doors
What was your first reaction?
Screaming, drunk, disorderly: I'll tell you mine
You were the one
But I can't spit it out when the date's been set
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately

Synapse to synapse: the sneaky kids had attached
Beer cans to the bumper so they could drive
Up and down the main drag
People would turn to see who's making the racket
It's not the first time

When they lay down the fish will swim upstream
And I'll contest, but they won't listen
When the casualty rate's near 100%
And there isn't a pension for second best
Or for hardly moving

Crashing through the parlor doors
What was your first reaction?
Screaming, drunk, disorderly: I'll tell you mine
You were the one
But I can't spit it out when the date's been set
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately

You were the one
But I can't spit it out when the date's been set
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately
-----------------

An alternate version of this song exists on Death Cab for Cutie's Forbidden Love EP, but it has the same lyrics. That's where I first encountered it. My high school girlfriend bought the EP for me for my birthday, and I proceeded to listen to it all on repeat; every play through, the words reminded me that I was dreaming of being with her best friend. Way to appreciate a gift.

The meaning of the song itself is clear enough: it has to do with Ben Gibbard (operating on the assumption that he doubles as the song's narrator) attending the wedding of someone for whom he has strong feelings, and proceeding to generally cause a disturbance and embarass himself, possibly even by telling the bride of his affections.

I say "possibly" because it's less clear whether the mayhem that he creates is real or imagined. For example, Gibbard says that "the figures in plastic on the wedding cake/that [he] took were so real," so it seems like this is something that he's actually going through with. Conversely, though Gibbard claims that he "[crashes] through the parlor doors....screaming, drunk, disorderly," the later line that he "can't spit...out" how he really feels seems to cast doubt on this. Perhaps the scene that he's discussing is only describing what he plans to do. "Synapse to synapse"...the ideas and emotions fire through the neurons of his mind.

Adding to the likelihood that this scenario is only playing out in Gibbard's mind, he underlines the fact that his situation is almost hopeless. Is there anywhere but in movies that the guy shows up, madly professes his love, and gets the girl? Gibbard sings that he'll "contest, but they won't listen" and notes that "the casualty rate's near 100%/and there isn't a pension for second best". In other words, there's almost nothing to gain from going through with his plan.

I know I'm kind of skipping all over the place, but I really enjoy the entirety of the second verse. "And I kept my distance: the complications cloud/postcards and blip through fiberoptics". Gibbard has tried to stay away while this girl is with someone else, but he still keeps making his presence known through "complications": postcards and (I'm thinking that "blip through fiberoptics" in 2000 speak means) emails. And what seems like some innocent observations of the wedding guests' children is really just another message to the bride: the girls are running from the boys, who are shouting "I'll catch you this time!"

It was harder for me to decipher the subsequent verse, starting with "Synapse to synapse: the sneaky kids had attached...", but as Gibbard describes the couple's wedding car driving up and down the street making noise and getting noticed, it appears to be more a comment on the fact that he can't escape the couple. Them being together, and the entire wedding itself, is just continual "racket" to Gibbard-- "it's not the first time".

Gibbard ends the song with a refrain of the chorus, indicating that he still can't go through with it and admit his feelings to the girl. "The white routine" (ie- the wedding) will still be "ingested inaccurately"-- not the prettiest of lines, but essentially stating that the wedding will still go on "inaccurately". This is both a hint that the events are not unfolding in the way that he wants them to, and that his story is inaccurate as well.

With this song armed in the CD player of my 2002 Accord, I became convinced that I didn't want to become either version of Ben Gibbard; not the guy who bursts into the wedding regretful and drunk, and certainly not the guy who becomes so ineffectual at admitting his own feelings that he's basically eaten alive by them. But I was kind of already ineffectual at admitting my own feelings, so instead of taking action, I wrote a poem for my creative writing class. Try not to be too judgmental-- this is an authentic bit of my history. Anyway:

February Epilogue

The guests have been left
mingling in the bad blood between us and
I'm standing outside the room where
you lie, purple tapestries blowing in the wind.
Burning spent cigarettes, the smoke clouds
our eyes and it was love until you left.

The fire has been set,
swallowing the air from this place and
you're watching in slow motion the palace
unwind and collapse now and here.
Lighting the way with spent youth, these pictures
remind us that pictures are all that's left.

You were my dream
but I can't let it all go with the old routine.
These tapestries will be suspended
indefinitely.

And we've been left
hiding behind these shades of meaning and
I'm wishing I was younger when
you sigh, and time can never begin again.
Leaving this whole world behind with the plans you
devised. I'm the only one who's left.

You were my dream
but I can't let it all go with the old routine.
These tapestries will be suspended
in your memory.
-----------------

Maybe it leans way too heavily on the original influence, but there are still some bits that I like, almost a decade later. The "purple tapestries" refer, of all things, to the down comforter on the bed of the girl I wanted. And the imagery of everything burning up around the two of us does a decent job of expressing that I felt like to expose my true feelings would ruin both my relationships with these girls. I couldn't "let it all go" and felt like I had to stay trapped in "the old routine". Basically, the poem was about me being too chickenshit.

It took a lot more time and a big kick in my ass before I finally admitted how I felt. Of course, I ended up almost entirely wrong about everything. I did get the girl I wanted and hurt the girl I was with, and it seemed to destroy everything for a while. But when time passed and all was said and done, the two of them became best friends again, regardless of all that had happened.

It's funny how things work out. I don't think that I have really learned much since then, except that it's funny how things work out. The rest is still the same. The music spurs me onward and outward.

An interesting side note to end on: Mr. Gibbard and I aren't so different:. I'm talking about these events almost a decade after they happened. Similarly, this won't be the last we hear of this wedding scene; he'll include a song on 2008's Narrow Stairs that revisits it, albeit with a bit of a different perspective. I'm sure that we'll get to that one eventually.

Next week will be less wistful and more focused as we break down the song I meant to post this week, and we discuss storytelling and narrative in music lyrics. I'm going to say it here so I don't end up going back on my word again: it's The Decemberists' "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)".