Carson McCullers was an American novelist. Vega has been a lifelong affinity for her (Carson was a woman) work and even wrote a play about her life.
This song is the first of an album, Lover, Beloved: An Evening with Carson McCullers. It is the soundtrack to Carson McCullers Talks About Love (with the same subtitle), Vega's one-woman show about the writer, whom Vega plays.
The song is only two verses long. The first lists a number of things that the speaker says she'd been compared to or called: "A wounded sparrow," "a fallen deer," "a childish liar," "a devilish bitch."
At first, she denies being cruel, while owning that she has two sides: "I'm an iron butterfly." McCullers may not have known, but Vega certainly does, that there is a classic rock band called Iron Butterfly; while they formed a year before McCullers' death, they were not widely known until a year after.
Then, the speaker cops to sometimes being surprisingly harsh: "I can be sweet I can be wise... I can be innocent and charming and suddenly switch" to the opposite.
Even so, she still has an excuse: "you've got to understand that I've never belonged." Well, which is the cause and which the effect? Is it possible that someone who comes across as nice and then lashes out venomously might have have a hard time keeping friends?
Despite looking in from the outside, or perhaps due to that state, she says she has everyone pegged: "I've got every one of you mirrored in my deep sad eyes/ I know where you've been to and who you're afraid to be." She even quotes the Roman playwright Terence: "Nothing that is human is alien to me."
And how, without having "belonged," does she do this research? "I talk to strangers."
This short song is a portrait of someone who has said to humanity at large, "You can't fire me, I quit." Having been rejected for so long, she has begun pre-rejecting potential new friends and poisoning potential relationships. Why go through the trouble of getting hurt when you could be the one inflicting the pain?
Next Song: New York is My Destination
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Sunday, November 13, 2016
Don't Uncork What You Can't Contain
This song presents three scenarios of people, each opening a mysterious container.
In the first, "a man finds a bottle" and begins to uncork it. In the second, Pandora of myth accidentally opens her box of evil.
And in the third, a genie is released from a lamp-- not by Aladdin but by Macklemore, who found it at a thrift shop (You see, there was this rapper in the early 2010s who went by "Macklemore," whose first single was a novelty tune about shopping at a "Thrift Shop." It went to #1. Yup.)
But when the man tries to open the bottle, and when Pandora did open the box, and when the genie did emerge from the lamp, each thought or said the same thing: "Don't uncork what you can't contain."
Like "don't bite off more than you can chew," this expression means to be careful or you might get in over your head. The one about food is about attempting what is beyond your capabilities, and the one about a drink is about not unleashing forces you can't control (just ask Dr. Frankenstein.)
Also, in each case the person "must" or "couldn't help," opening the container, or simply didn't consider what they did to have any consequences.
Ah, but what if you are the container? What if you have something inside that you can no longer keep bottled up? And you shouldn't, or "your head will spin/ And your mouth is all tongue-tied."
Then you have to put that into a container. The speaker suggests you channel it into art, "the page or the stage."
Words or performance (or the visual arts, one infers) can contain those "feelings."
But the container the speaker has in mind is not a bottle, box or lamp, but a "cage." Why? Because "rage" is like a "tiger." One that'll cause you "pain."
So, a tip of the (tall, striped) hat to Dr. Seuss: "The page and the stage [are] the cage for that tiger rage."
In conclusion: Don't uncork what you can't contain-- unless you can pour it into your artwork, which can contain it.
Next Song: Jacob and the Angel
In the first, "a man finds a bottle" and begins to uncork it. In the second, Pandora of myth accidentally opens her box of evil.
And in the third, a genie is released from a lamp-- not by Aladdin but by Macklemore, who found it at a thrift shop (You see, there was this rapper in the early 2010s who went by "Macklemore," whose first single was a novelty tune about shopping at a "Thrift Shop." It went to #1. Yup.)
But when the man tries to open the bottle, and when Pandora did open the box, and when the genie did emerge from the lamp, each thought or said the same thing: "Don't uncork what you can't contain."
Like "don't bite off more than you can chew," this expression means to be careful or you might get in over your head. The one about food is about attempting what is beyond your capabilities, and the one about a drink is about not unleashing forces you can't control (just ask Dr. Frankenstein.)
Also, in each case the person "must" or "couldn't help," opening the container, or simply didn't consider what they did to have any consequences.
Ah, but what if you are the container? What if you have something inside that you can no longer keep bottled up? And you shouldn't, or "your head will spin/ And your mouth is all tongue-tied."
Then you have to put that into a container. The speaker suggests you channel it into art, "the page or the stage."
Words or performance (or the visual arts, one infers) can contain those "feelings."
But the container the speaker has in mind is not a bottle, box or lamp, but a "cage." Why? Because "rage" is like a "tiger." One that'll cause you "pain."
So, a tip of the (tall, striped) hat to Dr. Seuss: "The page and the stage [are] the cage for that tiger rage."
In conclusion: Don't uncork what you can't contain-- unless you can pour it into your artwork, which can contain it.
Next Song: Jacob and the Angel
Monday, August 1, 2016
Frank and Ava
Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner had a brief, tempestuous marriage. It only lasted 5-6, years but was filled with passion-- both the good and bad kinds. Whole books have been written about it, since their affairs and external friendships involved many other celebrities, as well as colorful characters like big-game hunters, starlets, and matadors. It involved, indeed, everything from drunken scenes to slashed wrists.
The song, however, makes no reference to any specific couple, as their last names are not given. So this is about that famous couple... but only as a metaphor for all such high-emotional, disastrous relationships (Vega herself had recently been divorced; she mentions "you and me" toward the end.).
Vega lays the blame for the failed relationship at both their feet. Ava could be imperious and act the "queen." Frank's love could be overwhelming, but explosive; his heart was a "tinderbox," and "the fire of his desire meant/ That everything must come undone."
Conclusion? "It's not enough, to be in love." The love must be between two compatible people, ones with the emotional maturity, stability, and stamina to maintain that love, through the natural ebbs and flows of time. Expecting first-kiss fireworks all the time is unrealistic and leads to shattered expectations.
Her aloofness didn't help. While he's hot for her, "she's cool." Which "makes him cruel." So they "needle" each other until "the jewels go raining down upon the ground." Either some jewelry box was knocked over, or someone was hit or shaken hard enough to make their jewelry fall off.
Eventually, the bad was acknowledged to outweigh the good, and they divorced: "They woke up, and they broke up."
While they were busy making each other miserable and being "volatile," of course, they wasted the time they could have spent on others: "Life passed, it went so fast."
Although it was doomed, it was a tragedy. Surely the public longed for two such attractive and talented people to find happiness together amidst the glamour of Hollywood. And while they were fire and ice, they were still attracted to each other: "They never could forget their chemistry."
So, more like oil and water, as it "proved go keep them both apart for life."
It's not enough to be in love. You have to find the right person, at the right time. And "indoor fireworks," as Elvis Costello put it, "can still burn your fingers." So while passion is important and should definitely be a part of any healthy relationship, it can't be the only part.
"Love does not consist in gazing at each other," noted The Little Prince author Antoine de Saint-Exupery, "but in looking outward together in the same direction." It also does not consist in gazing at the other person and hoping to find a reflection of yourself, or seeking a source of the fulfillment of all your needs.
It doesn't consist of looking at yourself, either. Even if you are as good-looking as a movie star.
Next Song: Edith Wharton's Figurines
The song, however, makes no reference to any specific couple, as their last names are not given. So this is about that famous couple... but only as a metaphor for all such high-emotional, disastrous relationships (Vega herself had recently been divorced; she mentions "you and me" toward the end.).
Vega lays the blame for the failed relationship at both their feet. Ava could be imperious and act the "queen." Frank's love could be overwhelming, but explosive; his heart was a "tinderbox," and "the fire of his desire meant/ That everything must come undone."
Conclusion? "It's not enough, to be in love." The love must be between two compatible people, ones with the emotional maturity, stability, and stamina to maintain that love, through the natural ebbs and flows of time. Expecting first-kiss fireworks all the time is unrealistic and leads to shattered expectations.
Her aloofness didn't help. While he's hot for her, "she's cool." Which "makes him cruel." So they "needle" each other until "the jewels go raining down upon the ground." Either some jewelry box was knocked over, or someone was hit or shaken hard enough to make their jewelry fall off.
Eventually, the bad was acknowledged to outweigh the good, and they divorced: "They woke up, and they broke up."
While they were busy making each other miserable and being "volatile," of course, they wasted the time they could have spent on others: "Life passed, it went so fast."
Although it was doomed, it was a tragedy. Surely the public longed for two such attractive and talented people to find happiness together amidst the glamour of Hollywood. And while they were fire and ice, they were still attracted to each other: "They never could forget their chemistry."
So, more like oil and water, as it "proved go keep them both apart for life."
It's not enough to be in love. You have to find the right person, at the right time. And "indoor fireworks," as Elvis Costello put it, "can still burn your fingers." So while passion is important and should definitely be a part of any healthy relationship, it can't be the only part.
"Love does not consist in gazing at each other," noted The Little Prince author Antoine de Saint-Exupery, "but in looking outward together in the same direction." It also does not consist in gazing at the other person and hoping to find a reflection of yourself, or seeking a source of the fulfillment of all your needs.
It doesn't consist of looking at yourself, either. Even if you are as good-looking as a movie star.
Next Song: Edith Wharton's Figurines
Monday, April 11, 2016
Widow's Walk
A "widow's walk" is a small walkway, really more of a platform, above the roof of many coastal homes, from New England to Italy, where they originated. The idea is that the wife of a sailor can watch the water to see if her husband is coming home... or if she has become a widow.
This song owes something to the great, ancient ballad "Sir Patrick Spens," about a ship that went down in a storm. It is safe to say, however, the main inspiration was the break-up of Vega's marriage.
The speaker begins "Consider me a widow, boys." So her husband died-- very sad. Well, no, she continues, "It's not the man, but the marriage that was drowned."
"So I walk the walk," she says, which has a double meaning. One is that she is authentic, she doesn't only "talk the talk," but fulfills it by "walking the walk." The other meaning is that she walks the "widow's walk," the structure described above.
This we know because she already mentioned "drown[ing]" but now continues that she is "wait[ing]" and is "watchful" of the "sky," while "looking for a kind of vessel." She is clearly evoking the image of a sailor's wife on a widow's walk, worried at the weather and gazing hopefully for the safe return of her husband's boat. But, she says, she has "never found" this kind of vessel.
She has four more things to say. One is to ask, "Does the weather say a better day is nearing?" She does hold out hope for the future, and has not discounted the possibility of future relationships, er, voyages.
The second is that she will "set [her] house in order now." This is a typical response to a loss. For one, it is a practical necessity. Emotionally, it helps distract us from the pain and helps us reclaim a sense of control in a chaotic situation.
The third is that she will "wait upon the Will." This could mean her husband's last will and testament, or in the case of a divorce, the judge's rulings. But the fact that it is capitalized indicates that this refers to the Divine Will. She feels she is bad at controlling her life, so she asks that God take the helm for now.
The last comment relates to that: "It's clear that I need better skill at steering." Oh, God has the wheel for now. But as soon as she regains her confidence, she will switch from "Sir Patrick Spens" to "Invictus," which ends: "I am the master of my fate/ I am the captain of my soul," and take back the helm.
She keeps returning to the site of the wreck, hoping to learn something. I think that, ultimately, she does, and the lesson is:
Ship happens.
Next song: "(I'll Never Be) Your Maggie May"
This song owes something to the great, ancient ballad "Sir Patrick Spens," about a ship that went down in a storm. It is safe to say, however, the main inspiration was the break-up of Vega's marriage.
The speaker begins "Consider me a widow, boys." So her husband died-- very sad. Well, no, she continues, "It's not the man, but the marriage that was drowned."
"So I walk the walk," she says, which has a double meaning. One is that she is authentic, she doesn't only "talk the talk," but fulfills it by "walking the walk." The other meaning is that she walks the "widow's walk," the structure described above.
This we know because she already mentioned "drown[ing]" but now continues that she is "wait[ing]" and is "watchful" of the "sky," while "looking for a kind of vessel." She is clearly evoking the image of a sailor's wife on a widow's walk, worried at the weather and gazing hopefully for the safe return of her husband's boat. But, she says, she has "never found" this kind of vessel.
Still, she did find some kind of vessel, because she "saw it splinter" and tear apart when it "hit the rocks."
She has becomes somewhat obsessed about the incident. She finds that she "keep[s] returning" to "where I did see the thing go down... as if there's something at the site/ I should be learning."
She does "grieve" at the demise of the ship, even though, she says, "I knew the ship was empty by the time" it shattered on the rocks. How did she know this?
"We watch the wind and set the sail," she says, at the beginning of the voyage, "but save ourselves when all omens point to 'fail.'" When they saw the storm was surging, and knew that a crash was imminent, they abandoned ship-- as anyone would.
So she blames no one: "We could not hold on when fate became unruly." She chalks the whole disaster up to "fate."
She has four more things to say. One is to ask, "Does the weather say a better day is nearing?" She does hold out hope for the future, and has not discounted the possibility of future relationships, er, voyages.
The second is that she will "set [her] house in order now." This is a typical response to a loss. For one, it is a practical necessity. Emotionally, it helps distract us from the pain and helps us reclaim a sense of control in a chaotic situation.
The third is that she will "wait upon the Will." This could mean her husband's last will and testament, or in the case of a divorce, the judge's rulings. But the fact that it is capitalized indicates that this refers to the Divine Will. She feels she is bad at controlling her life, so she asks that God take the helm for now.
The last comment relates to that: "It's clear that I need better skill at steering." Oh, God has the wheel for now. But as soon as she regains her confidence, she will switch from "Sir Patrick Spens" to "Invictus," which ends: "I am the master of my fate/ I am the captain of my soul," and take back the helm.
She keeps returning to the site of the wreck, hoping to learn something. I think that, ultimately, she does, and the lesson is:
Ship happens.
Next song: "(I'll Never Be) Your Maggie May"
Monday, April 4, 2016
Penitent
This is the first song on Vega's 2001 album Songs in Red and Gray.
The title is not in the song, but the word "penitent" is a religious one, and it means "one who repents." (It is related to the word "penitentiary," which gives a clue as to that institution's initial purpose.)
The song starts the album off in an opposite stature than 99.9F; "Rock in This Pocket" brimmed with bravado.
Here, we find the speaker saying she was formerly "proud" and "above the crowd," but now is "low," even "on the ground." From this perspective, she is so lost she cannot even tell what her options are, "what avenues belong" to her.
We can't know this from the audio recording, but the liner notes make it clear that these lines are being addressed to God: "Now, what would You have me do? ...I wait to hear."
It seems the sin she is repenting is one of arrogance; she tried, she tells God, "to stare You down."
(It should be noted that there are major discrepancies between the liner notes and the official lyrics as posted on Vega's website. The liner notes seem to favor the (precious) lowercase, starting most lines this way, so all their capitalization is suspect. Meanwhile, the lyrics on the website have at least one major, obvious enjambment error that also calls their credibility into question.
This is no mere grammatical whine on my part-- there is a world (or more) of difference between "You" and "you"-- the very difference between God and human. And this is the very word whose capitalization is inconsistent, both within each version and between them. Well, also "Your" and "your."
If "You" means "God," which it must, what shall we make of the instances of "you"? It would be one thing if the switch happened midway through the lyrics-- first she addresses God, then a person. And she does seem to drop the You altogether midway in the liner version, but even there we have "Now what would You have me do/ I ask you please?" early on. This is clearly one consistent question addressed to one party, but first with a capital and then without.
Adding to the confusion, the liner notes drop the capitalized version altogether at this point... while the website version continues them. But... does it to so to mean this is still God being addressed? Or is it just that the word falls at the start of a line, and the website prefers the formal, correct style of starting each line with a capital?
I am going to say the entire song is addressed to God and the lowercase "you" and "your" instances are all lazy typos. The rest of the song only makes sense if she is speaking to, and of, God, as we shall see.
Yes, this is Vega's divorce album, and maybe some of this is supposed to also be to her ex. But the metaphors don't work. And what's she implying, if that's the case-- that he's a god? That he thinks of himself as one? Well, then at which points does she mean her ex, and which God? It would be impossible to untangle, even if the capitals were consistent, because lines start with capitals as well as references to God.)
The speaker says she is not the first to try to "stare [God] down." One is "the mother," probably Mary, who does try to sway Jesus' actions at various points. Also, "the matador," which is a very odd reference; the only thing I can imagine is that this is means Aaron and the incident of the Golden Calf, the closest thing the Bible comes to a man-and-bull scenario. And "the mystic," which could be any number of prophets to argued (or even wrestled) with God: Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Jonah...
God's response to her challenge is to "appear without a face/ Disappear but leave [His] trace." Which is his "unseen frown." She simply "feels" God's disapproving disappointment.
Well, staring God down didn't work. So she has to apologize. But how? She is powerless, even powerless to think of her options. So she asks God how He'd like to be apologized to: "Now what would You have me do, I ask You please?"
She says she waits for His "voice... word... sign." But admits, even then, "Would I obey?"
Well, God is not coming to her, so she starts to "look for" Him, on the "moor/ the desert and the ocean floor." Before she was only "down to the ground," now she's miles underwater-- and muses, "How low does one heart go?" How much must she lower herself before she is forgiven? (Would she look for her ex in all these places? Or is nature where one seeks God?)
"Looking for your fingerprints/ I find them in coincidence" (again, something you would say of God, not a person, who has no command over Fate). Many people feel that such cases can only be explained through Divine intervention or Providence. She seems to be forcing herself to this state though. She has to "make [her] faith to grow." It's not happening naturally, you see.
Finally, she seems to simply try asking for a pardon, sort of: "Forgive me all my blindnesses/ My weakness and unkindnesses/ As yet unbending still." First, she admits that her "unbending" nature is not a show of strength but of "weakness."
But then she wants to be forgiven... without having to change what she's doing wrong! She is "still" the same stubborn person, but wants God to just accept it and forgive her for it. "Look, I will not submit, and you'll just have to get used to it. Sorry." Strange "apology," that!
This next phrase could be taken two ways. The lines are "Struggling so hard to see/ My fist against eternity." Is she struggling to see something with her eyes, against the infinite void of eternity?
Or is this the "see" of the interviewer's question: "Where do you see yourself in five years?" Perhaps she wants to "see"-- in other words, "to see to it that"-- her fist is set against eternity.
And what is this eternity she sets her fist against? God? Death? The Universe? All of the above? Or even all of the Above?
The song ends with a question: "Will You break my will... could I obey?" This is a core religious question-- does belief mean submission? Does accepting God mean accepting God's control?
She doesn't want to fight God anymore. But how can she continue to be a strong, independent person with free will... and also "obey"?
If the one being addressed here is her ex-husband, she did leave him. And if the one being addressed is God, well, Vega left her Christian background for Buddhism. She might also have opted for the Jewish faith [not that I know how religious he was] of her once-husband, Mitchell Froom; the very word "Israel" means "One who struggles with God."
And then there was Galileo, who was forced to renounce his scientific discoveries by the Church; he is quoted as having said (albeit in Italian), "I refuse to believe that God gave me a brain and then told me not to use it."
She tries to be penitent. But she cannot. She was not built to bow.
And Whose fault is that?
Next Song: Widow's Walk
The title is not in the song, but the word "penitent" is a religious one, and it means "one who repents." (It is related to the word "penitentiary," which gives a clue as to that institution's initial purpose.)
The song starts the album off in an opposite stature than 99.9F; "Rock in This Pocket" brimmed with bravado.
Here, we find the speaker saying she was formerly "proud" and "above the crowd," but now is "low," even "on the ground." From this perspective, she is so lost she cannot even tell what her options are, "what avenues belong" to her.
We can't know this from the audio recording, but the liner notes make it clear that these lines are being addressed to God: "Now, what would You have me do? ...I wait to hear."
It seems the sin she is repenting is one of arrogance; she tried, she tells God, "to stare You down."
(It should be noted that there are major discrepancies between the liner notes and the official lyrics as posted on Vega's website. The liner notes seem to favor the (precious) lowercase, starting most lines this way, so all their capitalization is suspect. Meanwhile, the lyrics on the website have at least one major, obvious enjambment error that also calls their credibility into question.
This is no mere grammatical whine on my part-- there is a world (or more) of difference between "You" and "you"-- the very difference between God and human. And this is the very word whose capitalization is inconsistent, both within each version and between them. Well, also "Your" and "your."
If "You" means "God," which it must, what shall we make of the instances of "you"? It would be one thing if the switch happened midway through the lyrics-- first she addresses God, then a person. And she does seem to drop the You altogether midway in the liner version, but even there we have "Now what would You have me do/ I ask you please?" early on. This is clearly one consistent question addressed to one party, but first with a capital and then without.
Adding to the confusion, the liner notes drop the capitalized version altogether at this point... while the website version continues them. But... does it to so to mean this is still God being addressed? Or is it just that the word falls at the start of a line, and the website prefers the formal, correct style of starting each line with a capital?
I am going to say the entire song is addressed to God and the lowercase "you" and "your" instances are all lazy typos. The rest of the song only makes sense if she is speaking to, and of, God, as we shall see.
Yes, this is Vega's divorce album, and maybe some of this is supposed to also be to her ex. But the metaphors don't work. And what's she implying, if that's the case-- that he's a god? That he thinks of himself as one? Well, then at which points does she mean her ex, and which God? It would be impossible to untangle, even if the capitals were consistent, because lines start with capitals as well as references to God.)
The speaker says she is not the first to try to "stare [God] down." One is "the mother," probably Mary, who does try to sway Jesus' actions at various points. Also, "the matador," which is a very odd reference; the only thing I can imagine is that this is means Aaron and the incident of the Golden Calf, the closest thing the Bible comes to a man-and-bull scenario. And "the mystic," which could be any number of prophets to argued (or even wrestled) with God: Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Jonah...
God's response to her challenge is to "appear without a face/ Disappear but leave [His] trace." Which is his "unseen frown." She simply "feels" God's disapproving disappointment.
Well, staring God down didn't work. So she has to apologize. But how? She is powerless, even powerless to think of her options. So she asks God how He'd like to be apologized to: "Now what would You have me do, I ask You please?"
She says she waits for His "voice... word... sign." But admits, even then, "Would I obey?"
Well, God is not coming to her, so she starts to "look for" Him, on the "moor/ the desert and the ocean floor." Before she was only "down to the ground," now she's miles underwater-- and muses, "How low does one heart go?" How much must she lower herself before she is forgiven? (Would she look for her ex in all these places? Or is nature where one seeks God?)
"Looking for your fingerprints/ I find them in coincidence" (again, something you would say of God, not a person, who has no command over Fate). Many people feel that such cases can only be explained through Divine intervention or Providence. She seems to be forcing herself to this state though. She has to "make [her] faith to grow." It's not happening naturally, you see.
Finally, she seems to simply try asking for a pardon, sort of: "Forgive me all my blindnesses/ My weakness and unkindnesses/ As yet unbending still." First, she admits that her "unbending" nature is not a show of strength but of "weakness."
But then she wants to be forgiven... without having to change what she's doing wrong! She is "still" the same stubborn person, but wants God to just accept it and forgive her for it. "Look, I will not submit, and you'll just have to get used to it. Sorry." Strange "apology," that!
This next phrase could be taken two ways. The lines are "Struggling so hard to see/ My fist against eternity." Is she struggling to see something with her eyes, against the infinite void of eternity?
Or is this the "see" of the interviewer's question: "Where do you see yourself in five years?" Perhaps she wants to "see"-- in other words, "to see to it that"-- her fist is set against eternity.
And what is this eternity she sets her fist against? God? Death? The Universe? All of the above? Or even all of the Above?
The song ends with a question: "Will You break my will... could I obey?" This is a core religious question-- does belief mean submission? Does accepting God mean accepting God's control?
She doesn't want to fight God anymore. But how can she continue to be a strong, independent person with free will... and also "obey"?
If the one being addressed here is her ex-husband, she did leave him. And if the one being addressed is God, well, Vega left her Christian background for Buddhism. She might also have opted for the Jewish faith [not that I know how religious he was] of her once-husband, Mitchell Froom; the very word "Israel" means "One who struggles with God."
And then there was Galileo, who was forced to renounce his scientific discoveries by the Church; he is quoted as having said (albeit in Italian), "I refuse to believe that God gave me a brain and then told me not to use it."
She tries to be penitent. But she cannot. She was not built to bow.
And Whose fault is that?
Next Song: Widow's Walk
Monday, August 17, 2015
Big Space
In glancing over the lyrics, I'm going to take a stab here and say that this song is about songwriting. Let's see if I'm right.
There is a metaphor of janitorial or maintenance work, perhaps for some sort of municipal job. We have words like "network," "fixing," "paperwork," "pipeline," "discipline," "weekend," and "swept up like garbage."
The idea of work pervades; the terms "network," and especially "paperwork" and "brain work" repeat several times throughout. Songwriting is not just a job, it's a grind. It's not just work, it's dirty work.
But how is any of this about songwriting, and not just about... work?
The song starts with a man telling our speaker to "stand in your own shoes" and to "look from your [own] direction."
The speaker responds that she'd "rather stand in someone else's." This is what John Keats called "negative capability," and what we today call empathy. Keats put it: "If a sparrow come before my window, I take part in its existence and pick about the gravel."
Seeing things from another's "perspective" is key to the poetic task. The dialogue continues that the two are "close to the middle" of something and "looking for a center," a unifying element between them that can allow them to communicate. But what if there isn't any, what if "it turns out to be hollow?" Well, then the act of looking itself becomes the solution, since "we" are doing that together; "We could be fixing what is broken."
Simply by her singing and her audience listening, an experience is being shared and a bridge is being built across the chasm between the two parties.
And now comes the chorus that says this is not just about series of forms being filled and filed. "Between the pen and the paperwork"-- in the space taken up by the ink forming the words, the "language" itself-- and "between the muscle and the brain"-- in that nerve, the "pipeline" that carries signals between the two...
...There must be "passion." There must be "feeling." Or else it is just "paperwork." It's not art without the passion and the feeling. It could be just "duty and... discipline." But she wants to go "beyond that."
Yes, but why is the metaphor not, say, working in a garden to produce flowers instead of vegetables? Or painting a portrait instead of a barn wall? Why use the metaphor of wires and pipes, of iron tools and aluminum filing cabinets, things that are colorless and lifeless?
Because not all songs are about love.
This one, for instance, is about "anger in a cold place." Maybe the man at the start is angry with her, frustrated at her always trying to see things from his side, from guessing his mindset and motives, from psychoanalyzing him. Instead of walking a mile in his shoes, as the cliche he quotes goes, she should "stand in [her] own shoes" for once, he tells her.
They are in a Catch-22. She feels that there is a gulf between them. She feels that she should be able to heal this rift if she can see things from his side of it. But it is this very pretentiousness that caused the problem to begin with! Her trying to see things from his side is his problem.
She intends it as empathy. He feels it as an invasion.
She has yet to sort this out. "All feelings fall into the big space"-- possibly the "hollow" between them-- and her method of dealing with "feeling" is to put it in a "pipeline." Maybe by writing about it, she can sort the pieces out.
Imagine a canyon. Throwing logs into it randomly is not going to create a bridge from one side to the other. Even if you fill it with haphazard logs, you still will not be able to get from one side to the other. One requires flat planks, lined up regularly-- some form of order-- a "network," a "pipeline"-- to create that bridge to carry feelings from her to him and back.
But there is a river in the canyon. Even the feelings that fall into this big space are "swept" away. In the municipal imagery of the song, "like garbage on the weekend." Instead of forming a line, they are brushed aside into the "avenues of angles."
So I'm wrong. The janitorial and bureaucratic imagery are metaphors for writing, but perhaps not songwriting. Maybe it's letter-writing between lovers. And it is so hard, it starts to feel like work.
She sees a problem, but she only has one tool to solve the problem-- her ability to assume another's perspective. She's going to empathize her way out of the problem she empathized her way into! That's like trying to dig out of a hole instead of climbing out, just because you have a shovel.
She should go back to her side. And instead of trying to guess what he's about, she should ask. And if he is not as voluble as her (he seems to lean on cliche), she should wait. And before she concludes that, yeah, fine, now she knows, she should make sure by asking again.
In trying to be both people in the relationship, she is making him feel left out. He keeps stepping back, once in a while dumping his feelings into the big-- and expanding-- gulf between them.
Unless she starts listening instead of talking for them both, the whole relationship is going to fall into the big space, and be swept away.
Next Song: Predictions
There is a metaphor of janitorial or maintenance work, perhaps for some sort of municipal job. We have words like "network," "fixing," "paperwork," "pipeline," "discipline," "weekend," and "swept up like garbage."
The idea of work pervades; the terms "network," and especially "paperwork" and "brain work" repeat several times throughout. Songwriting is not just a job, it's a grind. It's not just work, it's dirty work.
But how is any of this about songwriting, and not just about... work?
The song starts with a man telling our speaker to "stand in your own shoes" and to "look from your [own] direction."
The speaker responds that she'd "rather stand in someone else's." This is what John Keats called "negative capability," and what we today call empathy. Keats put it: "If a sparrow come before my window, I take part in its existence and pick about the gravel."
Seeing things from another's "perspective" is key to the poetic task. The dialogue continues that the two are "close to the middle" of something and "looking for a center," a unifying element between them that can allow them to communicate. But what if there isn't any, what if "it turns out to be hollow?" Well, then the act of looking itself becomes the solution, since "we" are doing that together; "We could be fixing what is broken."
Simply by her singing and her audience listening, an experience is being shared and a bridge is being built across the chasm between the two parties.
And now comes the chorus that says this is not just about series of forms being filled and filed. "Between the pen and the paperwork"-- in the space taken up by the ink forming the words, the "language" itself-- and "between the muscle and the brain"-- in that nerve, the "pipeline" that carries signals between the two...
...There must be "passion." There must be "feeling." Or else it is just "paperwork." It's not art without the passion and the feeling. It could be just "duty and... discipline." But she wants to go "beyond that."
Yes, but why is the metaphor not, say, working in a garden to produce flowers instead of vegetables? Or painting a portrait instead of a barn wall? Why use the metaphor of wires and pipes, of iron tools and aluminum filing cabinets, things that are colorless and lifeless?
Because not all songs are about love.
This one, for instance, is about "anger in a cold place." Maybe the man at the start is angry with her, frustrated at her always trying to see things from his side, from guessing his mindset and motives, from psychoanalyzing him. Instead of walking a mile in his shoes, as the cliche he quotes goes, she should "stand in [her] own shoes" for once, he tells her.
They are in a Catch-22. She feels that there is a gulf between them. She feels that she should be able to heal this rift if she can see things from his side of it. But it is this very pretentiousness that caused the problem to begin with! Her trying to see things from his side is his problem.
She intends it as empathy. He feels it as an invasion.
She has yet to sort this out. "All feelings fall into the big space"-- possibly the "hollow" between them-- and her method of dealing with "feeling" is to put it in a "pipeline." Maybe by writing about it, she can sort the pieces out.
Imagine a canyon. Throwing logs into it randomly is not going to create a bridge from one side to the other. Even if you fill it with haphazard logs, you still will not be able to get from one side to the other. One requires flat planks, lined up regularly-- some form of order-- a "network," a "pipeline"-- to create that bridge to carry feelings from her to him and back.
But there is a river in the canyon. Even the feelings that fall into this big space are "swept" away. In the municipal imagery of the song, "like garbage on the weekend." Instead of forming a line, they are brushed aside into the "avenues of angles."
So I'm wrong. The janitorial and bureaucratic imagery are metaphors for writing, but perhaps not songwriting. Maybe it's letter-writing between lovers. And it is so hard, it starts to feel like work.
She sees a problem, but she only has one tool to solve the problem-- her ability to assume another's perspective. She's going to empathize her way out of the problem she empathized her way into! That's like trying to dig out of a hole instead of climbing out, just because you have a shovel.
She should go back to her side. And instead of trying to guess what he's about, she should ask. And if he is not as voluble as her (he seems to lean on cliche), she should wait. And before she concludes that, yeah, fine, now she knows, she should make sure by asking again.
In trying to be both people in the relationship, she is making him feel left out. He keeps stepping back, once in a while dumping his feelings into the big-- and expanding-- gulf between them.
Unless she starts listening instead of talking for them both, the whole relationship is going to fall into the big space, and be swept away.
Next Song: Predictions
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