This song is the first of a diptych-- a matched set of two. The next one is called "Unbound."
This song is fairly self-explanatory: "I am asking you/ if you might still want me."
The speaker is honest about it, though. She is not trying to pass off a car with 70,000 miles on it as new. So, "still," despite what?
Despite having been through life. She doesn't say that she has been through Hell, or any massive disaster, but simply "the world." The ordinary erosion of having been around: "I am ruined by rain/ Weathered by wind." Even these have "ravaged my body/ And bitten my soul."
She reminds this person, the one she is offering herself to, that he once did find her attractive: "Once you said/ I'm made of fine stuff." But she wants to be clear that she is not showroom new anymore: "I've been corrupted."
It is is interesting that she feels the need to ask if he still wants her. After all, he has said as much: "Now you appear/ Making your claim." So... yes, he does want her.
Perhaps she is in a state of disbelief. Perhaps she feels the need to explain, "You want the 'me' you used to know. I'm a new person now, and you need to know that, so that you don't take me back, realize this, and them reject me again. You need to know what you are getting this time."
She wants him, that much is clear: "Inside my heart/ Is the sign of our name." But she is hesitant to say so until she knows how he feels once he has been fully informed: "All these words/ Like 'darling' and 'angel' and 'dear'/ Crowd my mouth/ In a path to your ear." She wants to call him these things, but can't... yet.
She closes with the statement that is the very definition of commitment: "When I said 'I am bound to you forever'/...I meant, 'I am bound to you forever.'"
So she is willing to state that she has a very close connection with him. While that may imply a romantic feeling, there are other ways to be "bound" to someone, and she just said she is not ready yet to call him "darling."
So this is to say, "You say you still love me. But I have to tell you that I have been through some experiences that hurt and changed me. So, if you still love me after knowing that, wonderful-- I love you, too. If not, I still want you in my life, regardless."
This is a divorce album, and in many other songs, Vega has made it clear she does not feel affection for her ex-husband anymore. This song is not for him. She does not say "...if you still want me back."
And why would she tell her ex that she'd been through hard times if he were the one who made those times hard?
No, this seems to be to someone she knew from before her marriage. Now that she is available again, they have the opportunity to try again. But she is an adult, and want to be above-board. She knows what secrets and lies can do to a relationship, and she wants this new one to work, so she has to reveal her issues at the outset.
Yes, it is ironic-- to give the new (or renewed) relationship to work, she has to reveal the reasons it might not. Let's hope he can put all of his cards on the table, too.
Next Song: Unbound
Showing posts with label commitment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commitment. Show all posts
Monday, August 15, 2016
Monday, December 7, 2015
Woman on the Tier (I'll See You Through)
This song is from the soundtrack to the 1995 movie Dead Man Walking. It is not in the film, however; the soundtrack's subtitle is "Music from and inspired by the motion picture." The director, Tim Robbins, submitted songs from many top songwriters, and while he could not use them all in the film, he felt obliged to release them somehow (also, much of the music in the actual soundtrack is gospel songs and Armenian folksongs... and while they are beautiful, it can be fairly said they had limited commercial appeal versus the work of Vega, Springsteen, Tom Waits, Patti Smith, Eddie Vedder, and country's Johnny Cash, Lyle Lovett, Mary Chapin Carpenter, and Steve Earle).
The film's story is a true one about a Death Row inmate and the nun who tried to save him, or at least his soul, and visited him regularly in prison. (As always, Hollywood put its own spin on the story.)
It is not surprising that Vega was chosen to contribute to the soundtrack, given the industrial sound of her 99.9 Fahrenheit Degrees album and her history of writing songs about mental illness.
The song's title implies that the song is about a woman, and it is-- but most of the imagery is about the prison she visits. It begins by setting the scene of a building that resembles a "tin can," since it is full of metal bars and doors, and frustratingly ventilation-free: "Too hot. No air," even with a "loud fan" stirring up the stifling atmosphere. She is waiting on the "tier," as the title explains, this being one level or story of the prison's architecture.
The song continues with the procedure she follows: "Wait here... They've gone to get your man," the prisoner she is there to see. Then "Through Gate 3 with a picture ID." She hears "the click" of a lock, then "see(s) his face through bar and guard."
She introduces herself to the prisoner by acknowledging the strangeness of their meeting: "You're new to me; I'm new to you." Then, she makes a promise. Although she sees "his fate" as inevitable, she still says "I'll see you through."
Although... she actually says: "I'll see you/ You through," as if stuttering. But "I'll see you" is also a promise for repeated visits, and the emphasis on "you" could imply "I see through you," as in: "Yeah, I see 'these men are hard,' but I know there is a soul in there somewhere."
While the room and building are "too hot," she finds her reception by the prisoner chilly: "Ice within." Is there any clemency forthcoming? No, the powers that be are as firm as the walls of the prison: "it's all cement in the government."
Now the prisoner is being moved to the pre-execution chamber, the "plywood booth where the prisoner's sent." The prisoner sees the "red... letters" on the door of the actual execution chamber. His reaction is to "feel unreal," even as reality is very much all around, even to his "rattling chains."
Lastly, the focus moves back to the woman. She "hear(s) the clock," and knows time has run out, and that the electric switch or poison needle or other form of execution method is about to be used.
It is not uncommon in moments like this for the brain to seek distraction, but all she finds is a blank "green" wall. (As to why it is green, please see the earlier blogpost on Vega's song "Institution Green.") She also noticed that, instead of "bars," there is a "screen" to view the execution through.
She closes with the same words with which she began: "You're new to me; I'm new to you./ I see your fate. I'll see you/ You through." She has kept her promise, and stayed with him until his end.
Lyrically, the song is notable for its use of internal rhyme, which gives the sensation of small rooms and narrow hallways. Starting with no context reflects the disorientation of the nun entering the prison. Also, the imagery does the job, mostly, without Vega telling the listener in so many words how to feel, while trying to have the nun maintain some humanity in all the brutality and bureaucracy of the prison world.
Next Song: Birth-Day (Love Made Real)
The film's story is a true one about a Death Row inmate and the nun who tried to save him, or at least his soul, and visited him regularly in prison. (As always, Hollywood put its own spin on the story.)
It is not surprising that Vega was chosen to contribute to the soundtrack, given the industrial sound of her 99.9 Fahrenheit Degrees album and her history of writing songs about mental illness.
The song's title implies that the song is about a woman, and it is-- but most of the imagery is about the prison she visits. It begins by setting the scene of a building that resembles a "tin can," since it is full of metal bars and doors, and frustratingly ventilation-free: "Too hot. No air," even with a "loud fan" stirring up the stifling atmosphere. She is waiting on the "tier," as the title explains, this being one level or story of the prison's architecture.
The song continues with the procedure she follows: "Wait here... They've gone to get your man," the prisoner she is there to see. Then "Through Gate 3 with a picture ID." She hears "the click" of a lock, then "see(s) his face through bar and guard."
She introduces herself to the prisoner by acknowledging the strangeness of their meeting: "You're new to me; I'm new to you." Then, she makes a promise. Although she sees "his fate" as inevitable, she still says "I'll see you through."
Although... she actually says: "I'll see you/ You through," as if stuttering. But "I'll see you" is also a promise for repeated visits, and the emphasis on "you" could imply "I see through you," as in: "Yeah, I see 'these men are hard,' but I know there is a soul in there somewhere."
While the room and building are "too hot," she finds her reception by the prisoner chilly: "Ice within." Is there any clemency forthcoming? No, the powers that be are as firm as the walls of the prison: "it's all cement in the government."
Now the prisoner is being moved to the pre-execution chamber, the "plywood booth where the prisoner's sent." The prisoner sees the "red... letters" on the door of the actual execution chamber. His reaction is to "feel unreal," even as reality is very much all around, even to his "rattling chains."
Lastly, the focus moves back to the woman. She "hear(s) the clock," and knows time has run out, and that the electric switch or poison needle or other form of execution method is about to be used.
It is not uncommon in moments like this for the brain to seek distraction, but all she finds is a blank "green" wall. (As to why it is green, please see the earlier blogpost on Vega's song "Institution Green.") She also noticed that, instead of "bars," there is a "screen" to view the execution through.
She closes with the same words with which she began: "You're new to me; I'm new to you./ I see your fate. I'll see you/ You through." She has kept her promise, and stayed with him until his end.
Lyrically, the song is notable for its use of internal rhyme, which gives the sensation of small rooms and narrow hallways. Starting with no context reflects the disorientation of the nun entering the prison. Also, the imagery does the job, mostly, without Vega telling the listener in so many words how to feel, while trying to have the nun maintain some humanity in all the brutality and bureaucracy of the prison world.
Next Song: Birth-Day (Love Made Real)
Monday, August 10, 2015
Room off the Street
There is Slavic proverb: "Eat bread and salt and speak the truth." To me, it means that both your intake and your output should be simple, direct, and decent. The quote comes up later in the song.
But it starts, like "Marlene on the Wall," with the image of a poster. This time, the poster shows "a man with his hand in a fist." We learn that the poster belongs to the resident of the "room" of which the wall is a part. And that, to this man, the poster is "his symbol of freedom/ It mean he has brothers who believes as he does." We are given to understand that he is a revolutionary of some stripe-- but whether anarchist, fascist, or what we are never told.
In fact, this is all we really learn of the man. The main character, who is introduced first, is a woman. She is "in" the room, which we see is not necessarily hers (she is not "at home"). Her relationship to the room's resident is unclear. In fact, this ambiguity is the substance of the song.
Here is what we know of her-- she has been "drinking." She is wearing a very red dress that is "so tight/ You can see every breath that she takes." Neither of these factors-- her drinking nor her dress-- bespeak the kind of person who consorts with militant types.
Yet... "she is moved by the thing that she sees in his face/ When he talks of the cause." Perhaps she is drinking and partying because she is bored. She is aimless, and so captivated by this man who is so well-aimed. It doesn't matter if she believes in the cause, per se. She just wants to believe in something as much as he.
"She leans against him," because she is drawn to his passion. Because, while he speaks so articulately about his passion, she has nothing to talk about, and no way to express herself except physically.
"They talk of the salt and the truth and the bread"-- the things he is interested in, and someone with a cocktail dress on her body and a cocktail in her hand is likely not.
It is somewhat clear that they do not have sex: "The night goes along/ The fan goes around." No mention of the bed. It seems that the cause is so fascinating to this rebel that he neglects to notice the tipsy, slinky woman pressed against him. And neglects to wonder what her... cause might be.
Evidently, they are being quite loud during all of this, as well. "Every sigh, every sway/ You can hear everything that they say." The song is titled "Room off the Street," so it seems they cannot only be heard from an adjoining apartment but from the street!
Something is going to happen between these two people. "Something's begun," some sort of relationship. It could be long and bad-- a "war." It could be long and good-- a "family" or "friendship." Or it could be short and good-- a "fast love affair."
Most likely, it is the lattermost. These two are not in it for the long haul. He will grow bored of her, of her lack of commitment to the cause, of her using him for his passion.
And she will grow tired of him, always caring more about the cause than her. Maybe he can eat bread and salt-- she will needs something more luxurious. Maybe he can speak the truth-- she needs innuendo and wit.
They will have a fling, then fling each other aside. He will find someone as dedicated to the cause as himself. And she will find someone wealthy enough to show her an endless good time.
For him, his party is his life. Meanwhile, she is the life of the party.
For him, life is a just cause. For her, life is... just 'cause.
Next Song: Big Space
But it starts, like "Marlene on the Wall," with the image of a poster. This time, the poster shows "a man with his hand in a fist." We learn that the poster belongs to the resident of the "room" of which the wall is a part. And that, to this man, the poster is "his symbol of freedom/ It mean he has brothers who believes as he does." We are given to understand that he is a revolutionary of some stripe-- but whether anarchist, fascist, or what we are never told.
In fact, this is all we really learn of the man. The main character, who is introduced first, is a woman. She is "in" the room, which we see is not necessarily hers (she is not "at home"). Her relationship to the room's resident is unclear. In fact, this ambiguity is the substance of the song.
Here is what we know of her-- she has been "drinking." She is wearing a very red dress that is "so tight/ You can see every breath that she takes." Neither of these factors-- her drinking nor her dress-- bespeak the kind of person who consorts with militant types.
Yet... "she is moved by the thing that she sees in his face/ When he talks of the cause." Perhaps she is drinking and partying because she is bored. She is aimless, and so captivated by this man who is so well-aimed. It doesn't matter if she believes in the cause, per se. She just wants to believe in something as much as he.
"She leans against him," because she is drawn to his passion. Because, while he speaks so articulately about his passion, she has nothing to talk about, and no way to express herself except physically.
"They talk of the salt and the truth and the bread"-- the things he is interested in, and someone with a cocktail dress on her body and a cocktail in her hand is likely not.
It is somewhat clear that they do not have sex: "The night goes along/ The fan goes around." No mention of the bed. It seems that the cause is so fascinating to this rebel that he neglects to notice the tipsy, slinky woman pressed against him. And neglects to wonder what her... cause might be.
Evidently, they are being quite loud during all of this, as well. "Every sigh, every sway/ You can hear everything that they say." The song is titled "Room off the Street," so it seems they cannot only be heard from an adjoining apartment but from the street!
Something is going to happen between these two people. "Something's begun," some sort of relationship. It could be long and bad-- a "war." It could be long and good-- a "family" or "friendship." Or it could be short and good-- a "fast love affair."
Most likely, it is the lattermost. These two are not in it for the long haul. He will grow bored of her, of her lack of commitment to the cause, of her using him for his passion.
And she will grow tired of him, always caring more about the cause than her. Maybe he can eat bread and salt-- she will needs something more luxurious. Maybe he can speak the truth-- she needs innuendo and wit.
They will have a fling, then fling each other aside. He will find someone as dedicated to the cause as himself. And she will find someone wealthy enough to show her an endless good time.
For him, his party is his life. Meanwhile, she is the life of the party.
For him, life is a just cause. For her, life is... just 'cause.
Next Song: Big Space
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