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)".

The New Pornographers: Crash Years (2010)

Now for something a little bit different than what we've been looking at for the past two weeks. Previously, we analyzed a song by The Smashing Pumpkins, of which the lyrical approach was to describe general emotions and feelings. The next song we focused on was by fun., a band which the lead singer uses to tell personal stories through his lyrics. Today we'll veer off a little further into The New Pornographers. For those unfamiliar with the band and also at work or perhaps reading with their grandmothers, don't be afraid to click on the embedded video. I promise that it's actually quite pretty.



Crash Years

The skirts go up
Before the war
Among the madding crowds
They're ruined like the rest of us ruined
Rest of us ruined

You are a living doll
Riding the circle tracks
Behind the walls of clocks
And you're ruined
Like the rest of us ruined
Rest of us ruined

Traffic was slow for the crash years
There's no other show like it 'round here
As a rule
Windows were rolled for the crash years
There's no other show like it 'round here
As a rule

Light a candle's end
You are a light turned low
And like the rest of us
You've got those old eternity blues
Eternity blues

Your fingers raised, you're looking for the word
What you want is accident
Another drag
Spectacular view
What you can lose

Traffic was slow for the crash years
There's no other show like it 'round here
As a rule
Windows were closed in the crash years
Honey child you're not safe here
As a rule

Traffic was slow for the crash years
There's no other show like it 'round here
As a rule
Windows were rolled for the crash years
There's no other show like it 'round here
As a rule

The ruins were wild
The ruins were wild
Tonight will be an open mic
-----------------

It's a little bit more obscure than the others, isn't it? That's kind of par for the course with the New Pornographers; the case in point being 2007's Twin Cinema, of which the title track is dedicated to discussing (of all things) the Roxie movie theater on 16th Street in San Francisco. That's nothing that you would be able to gather just by looking at the lyrics.  But the music behind the words of "Crash Years" is so easily accessible, especially given Neko Case's infectious vocals, that I can't help but want to dig a little deeper into songwriter A.C. Newman's words. Let's take a look at what we have and see if we can't at least bring the song generally into focus.

I really love the first few lines here. "The skirts go up/before the war/among the madding crowds". Not exactly mind-blowing, but I enjoy the double meaning, either that the girls wearing skirts are going somewhere, or the sexual connotation of skirts being lifted. The question, of course, is before which war, exactly? It's up for debate but there are clues elsewhere in the song. As far as "the madding crowds," okay-- now we have a bit of a picture of girls going up, presumably on a stage, in front of a bunch of frenzied people.

It's interesting to note that the phrase "the madding crowd" actually comes from a Thomas Hardy novel Far From the Madding Crowd. He, in turn, took the title from a Thomas Gray poem, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. The idea is that "the madding crowd" is something negative, something that needs to be escaped-- essentially city versus country living. However, in "Crash Years" we begin among the madding crowd, not far from it, and it seems like that is a positive state of being. Nevertheless, this happiness, frenzy, sexuality is all "before the war". Now everything is "ruined like the rest of us".

The second verse is pretty opaque and I'm not quite sure how to interpret it. But someone who is "riding the circle tracks...behind the walls of clocks" I would assume to be doing the same thing over and over again for a long period of time, stuck in a rut. And maybe this is because he or she is "a living doll", always subject to the whims of others, unable to speak for him or herself. There's the hint of something here about creation and creativity, but it won't become clearer until later.

As far as the chorus goes, "traffic was slow for the crash years" again has a double meaning. Aside from the obvious play on vehicles slowing down when there's some kind of accident, if we refer back to the girls going up in front of madding crowds from the first verse, we can gather that "traffic" means "patrons" or "business", and then of course "crash" will refer to an economic downturn. We're assured that it's not because of a lack of quality: "There's no other show like it 'round here/as a rule". Newman provides even more images of the economic downturn with "windows were rolled for the crash years" (and later "windows were closed for the crash years"). This is something we can see even in our current economic state. How depressing is it to drive down certain streets where stores, restaurants, bars, venues have been shut down and boarded up?

The short whistling bridge between the chorus and the next verse provides a window into the time frame that Newman is discussing. To me, the sound and tune really conjure images of old-school military. I can't exactly place my finger on it but it seems like something out of an old newsreel: the boys go off to the front! Something like that.

In the next two verses, I think that Newman is returning to his notions of creativity. We often talk about finding that "spark", but the subject of the song's "light [is] turned low" and he or she is "searching for the word". The next lines seem to be kind of a list, and if I were to punctuate it, it would go something like this: "What you want is: accident, another drag, spectacular view, what you can lose." The song's subject is looking for something, anything to light that fire, the happy accident of inspiration, a drag on his cigarette, staring out at a view, and most importantly, "what you can lose". He wants that which has already been lost, wants it back to be able to lose it again.

Also, and this deserves its own separate mention, the line "you've got those old eternity blues" is really kind of wistfully beautiful.

I understand that the stuff about creativity isn't readily apparent, and you may be wondering just what the hell I'm talking about. But for me what gave some great insight was the line "Honey child you're not safe here." In doing a little bit of research, this line is extremely close to something from an old Smiths song, "Panic" (the line there says "honey pie you're not safe here". Close enough). "Panic" is a song about dissatisfaction with the contemporary pop music of the time, including the words "the music that they constantly play/it says nothing to me about my life". A songwriter expressing dissatisfaction with radio music, which is often popularly referred to as soulless, trendy, repetitive, or corporate-- we can begin to see how this relates to the second verse of the song in which "living dolls...[ride] the circle tracks".

So we've got parallel running lines of depression, both economic and creative. Things were good at one point; they were vibrant and alive. But something happened to ruin all of it.  And I'm sure that Newman intended us to extrapolate these themes to our society today, still reeling from the same problems that we faced along with "the war"-- whether we're talking about 1941 or 2001.

Keeping these ideas in mind, we can take a look at the outro and attempt to decipher its message. It's important that the line "the ruins were wild" is in the past tense; the sense now is that we are past what happened and are left dealing with what has been left behind. The final statement, "Tonight will be an open mic", brings us back to the imagery of the stage from the beginning of the song. Its interpretation largely depends on what you think Newman means by "open mic". It could of course refer to an open mic night, where members of an audience are allowed to perform on stage. Or "open" could mean "vacant," indicating that the shows "before the war" are over for good.

I can't prove it's what was intended, but I personally prefer the latter. Something about a lone microphone standing unattended inside an abandoned venue seems infinitely more poetic. But maybe it was meant to be ambiguous and is a message that what we build from these ruins is up to us.

I don't know about you, but I found that much more rewarding than "I have no idea what these words mean." It was a lot of work but I think it got us somewhere. Next week, I'll discuss a song with a narrative that is a little less thematic and a little more straightforward. See you then!

fun.: Be Calm (2009)

Now for something in total contrast to last week's selection.

fun.--yes, that's the correct punctuation--is a high-energy power-pop band that came out of the ashes of lead singer Nate Ruess' former band, The Format. Ruess is generally more well-known, in the circles that he is well-known at all, for his voice rather than his lyrics. But the truth is that they compliment each other pretty well, creating a sort of genuineness that forms a bond between the listener and Ruess.



Be Calm

As I walk through the streets of my new city
my back feeling much better, I suppose
I've reclaimed the use of my imagination
for better or for worse, I've yet to know
but I always knew you'd be the one to understand me,
I guess that's why it took so long to get things right.
Suddenly I'm lost
on my street
on my block

Oh why, oh why
Oh why haven't you been there for me?
Can't you see I'm losing my mind this time?
This time it's for real, I can see

All the treetops turning red
The beggars near bodegas grin
at me, I think they want something
I close my eyes, I tell myself to breathe

and be calm.
Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down
I know that it gets so hard sometimes.
Be calm.

I'm scared that everyone is out to get me.
"These days before you speak to me you pause."
"I always see you looking out your window."
"After all, you lost your band, you left your mom."
Now every single crack, every penny that I pass,
says I should either leave or pick it up
But with every single buck I've made
I'm saddled with bad luck that came

the moment I was baptized or
when I found out one day I'm gonna die
if only I could find my people or my place in life
and when they come a'carolin'
so loud, so bright, the theremin
will lead us to a chorus
where we'll all rejoice and sing a song that goes:

Oh be calm.
Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down
I know that it gets so hard sometimes
Be calm.
Take it from me, I've been there a thousand times.
You hate your pulse because it thinks you're still alive
and everything's wrong
It just gets so hard sometimes
Be calm.

I don't remember much that night,
just walking, thinking fondly of you
thinking how the worst is yet to come
When from that street corner came a song
And I can't remember the man,
the panhandler, or his melody.
The words exchanged had far exceeded any change I'd given thee.
-----------------

So it's not exactly Billy Corgan's complex and meaningful verses, but that doesn't mean that these lines don't have any value. In fact, you could argue that "Be Calm" is at times more poetical than anything in "Muzzle". And rather than trying to describe a general feeling, Ruess' lines actually tell a story.

Ruess is experiencing a new status quo in his life, feeling "lost" as he wanders around his "new city". It seems like he's either just exiting or entering a new relationship, based on the lines "I always knew you'd be the one to understand me/I guess that's why it took so long to get things right." It's ambiguous, at least until a few lines later, but we get the idea that he's fresh out of a relationship both because he's in a new location physically and because he has "reclaimed the use of [his] imagination." Relationships are draining! They're a lot of effort to maintain properly, and it can often seem like there's no time for extraneous things like imagination. Hence Ruess' "back feeling much better"-- the burden has been lifted from him.

However, that doesn't mean that everything is great in life. He already wants back what he left behind: "why haven't you been there for me?" Not quite knowing where he is, Ruess starts "losing [his] mind," and becoming paranoid with the beggars he sees outside the convenience stores, which is apparently what "bodegas" means, according to Wikipedia. We're learning something!

It is at this point that the quality of the song really ratchets up, mostly due to the way the lyrics and music dovetail: as Ruess has what basically amounts to a panic attack, the pace of the music and words picks up, whirling around with a barely-controlled confusion. If you're singing along, as I often am, you'll notice that this part is really fun to sing. Why is that? If you are a total dork and guessed "because it's written in iambic quadrameter," you'd be right. Each line consists of four pairs of alternating stressed and unstressed syllables, giving the verse a great cadence. For example: "the beggars near bodegas grin."

I mean, basically. We're not talking Shakespeare here, so it's not perfect-- but everything here is at least iambic, even if what the "-meter" is fluctuates.

Ruess centers himself with the chorus: "be calm," and basically gives himself a little pep talk. Ths music slows back to normal to accomodate this.

What follows are, in my opinion, the best two portions of the entire song. As for the first, beginning with "I'm scared that everyone is out to get me": not only is 90% of it written in that old classic, iambic pentamenter, but what is sung is actually a dialogue between Ruess and his friends, displaying concern for the way he has recently been acting. The best part is that each of the lines are sung by different members of the band, creating a great interplay of voices.

Nate: "I'm scared that everyone is out to get me."
Female Friend: "These days before you speak to me you pause." (with an actual, awkward pause in there for effect!)
Male Friend: "I always see you looking out your window."
Other Male Friend "After all, you lost your band, you left your mom."

The proceeding bridge returns to the previous frenzied pace as Ruess works himself up again. He thinks of "his people [and] his place in life," both of which seem to be lacking. As such, the next chorus, though containing most of the same words as the first, is more frantic. He can't take his own advice.

In the final verse, Ruess seems to completely lose it. He refuses or is incapable of letting go of the past, "walking, thinking fondly" of it. His voice careens into the stratosphere as he sings: "I can't remember the man/the panhandler, or his melody./The words exchanged had far exceeded any change I'd given thee."

As we dip into the chorus a final time, Ruess obviously isn't following his own advice to "be calm." The violins in the song, which began it with a certain kind of sad sweetness, fall off with an almost sinister undertone before fading out entirely.

A hell of a journey. This is actually the middle portion of Ruess' tale, spread across three separate albums and nearly seven years of music-- but more on that later.