Angel's Doorway

This is not a song about an angel, but of a man with the name of Angel. We learn of his line of work by dint of clues.

When Angel enters his house, his clothes cast a "cloud" of "dust and dirt and destruction." With only this much information, it's possible he is in demolition work.

He also works amid "fires and flesh and confusion." So it's more likely he's a fire fighter.

Whatever he does, he cannot talk about. At his "door," he has to "leave it on the floor." He is told "Don't bring it in."

That seems harsh. He had to live though it, now he can't even talk about it? Who came up with that policy?

His wife or girlfriend. "He can't show/ What she doesn't want to know/ Those things he's seen... that life he can't tell."

It's bad enough that she can "smell" the ashes on his clothes. Does she actually have to listen to his tales of death, gore, pain and loss? No, she has decided. No, she doesn't. Or at very least, she can't handle it, and is willing to admit that.

But that protection of her psyche comes at a price to his. "Inside his brain/ It's never the same/ Though he tries to maintain the illusion." Not being able to share your life with your spouse has got to make a rough job even worse. He can't about it at work, because it's the job and he has to "suck it up." But he can't talk about it at home, either. So where can he unburden himself?

There are jobs that we leave at the door. Police officers, soldiers, surgeons, rescue workers, funeral- home staff, prison guards... all have stories that they have to leave at the workplace and cannot share with their spouses. Sometimes because the spouse loves this person but simply cannot stomach the "realness" of the stories he or she lives every day.

People who see accident or crime victims on a daily basis may have to develop a numbness to that horror in order to do their jobs. And they need support to help them deal with seeing the absolute worst of humanity, and human suffering, on a daily basis. They need a place to empty themselves of these stories, to share their experiences with others who have dealt with similar things. Maybe a bar, maybe a support group.

But not, in many cases, home. The one place they should feel safe is also the place their spouses want to feel safe. Ironically, that spouse may have been drawn to someone who is strong in this way precisely because they are not, themselves, brave. A fearful, insulated person might want a knight in Kevlar armor to protect them... but then never talk about how they are doing just that.

So why is this character named Angel? Perhaps because he does the heavenly work of saving people every day... and so lives an otherworldly life he can never explain to those he is saving.

Next Song: "Anniversary"

Bound

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

If I Were a Weapon

How far we have come since "If You Were in My Movie."

This is a couple that should be glad, at least, that they are breaking up.

He says that she reminds him of a "gun." In trying to unpack that, she guesses he means that she is "lethal at close range" with her words, and also capable of shutting down communications (she has a "silencer") and shocking people.

She feels, however, that she is a "needle." She's always "pulling on the thread," which could either mean that he is as annoying as a loose thread... or that when she pulls on the thread of one of his lies, it unravels endlessly into an unbroken string of falsehoods. Also, he doesn't listen; she is always "making the same point" and "wondering if [he] heard."

Meanwhile, what weapon does she think he is? A "hammer." He's very "blunt" in his honesty. He's "heavy at the end," which seems to mean that when he starts to say something hurtful, he never stops before finishing. And he is "coming down on [her]" with criticism and threats from on high.

She then admits that she has a secret weapon. She likens it to a "pocket knife" in that the blade is "concealed." This language implies that she knows a secret of his that can hurt him. She doesn't want to use it, but she will if she is backed into a corner. How do we know it's his? Once he "sees" it, he will want it "back." Perhaps it is an incriminating photograph or receipt.

She concludes that: "If I am that weapon/ I am pointing now at you." What has been a name-calling contest has now escalated to threats.

Why did it get to this point? This is not just a stand-off. He has a "hostage." Evidently, the divorce involves a custody battle, and he's winning.

If he forces her hand, she will ruin his reputation. But if he backs down on the custody issue, she is willing to continue to negotiate: "We'll talk this down until we see this through."

This is a couple that needs to no longer be a couple. It is good that they are separating. Does it hurt? Yes, but if they stay together, they will just keep causing each other more pain.

I may not be a marriage counselor, but if a couple's fights are about what kind of "weapon" the other person is, they probably they should no longer share a mailbox.


Next Song: Harbor Song

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

Rusted Pipe

Another song about illness. It seems that the patient was able to speak and move once, but has since lost those abilities due to, perhaps, a head trauma or stroke. Now, they are beginning to regain these abilities, slowly and haltingly...

Through speech therapy of some sort, which has just begun: "Now the time has come to speak."

The speaker compares her ability to make sounds to "water through a rusted pipe." The sounds are sometimes human, like a "stutter," "moan," or a "mutter," sometimes animalistic, like a "hiss" (which could also be made by steam). Mostly, they are water-like, as she said to begin with: "gurgle," "rush," "foam."

The overall impression is that the words are halting, staccato, and intermittent. Above all, unintelligible.

The passage, from a literary standpoint, is a small masterwork of onomatopoeia. But not alliteration! There is the opposite of that-- competing sounds, a cacophony.

Then there is the bridge, which indicates that there was a long "winter" of no sound or movement-- a coma?-- before even this level of progress. The idea of a dormant period being compared to this season as is least as old as Shakespeare's line about a "winter of our discontent."

How is the progress? Speaking is but a "croak," followed by a frustrated, resigned "sigh."

Yet... even this "creak" from "somewhere deep within" her body and psyche "lets the tale begin." There is hope. A tale has a beginning, but then keeps progressing.

Then, in comes the physical therapist, who says, "Now the time has come to move." Similarly, progress is slow and long in coming. But, as before this shambling movement is a step past her earlier status, when she "was not able" to "move" at all.

Again, she compares her movements to water's: "trickle," "freeze." She falls a lot, too: "stumble," "trip," "fumble."

But still-- even though it is a mere "stagger" or "creep"-- there is forward movement. And when her legs fail, her hands can react to help; she is able to "grip."

Most importantly, she has not lost her sense of humor. The last two movements she says she can made are "slip and slide." While this may be a nod to the Paul Simon song "Slip-Slidin' Away," more likely it is an allusion to the childhood toy called a "slip 'n' slide."

This device, introduced in 1961 and an immediate success, is a plastic sheet, at one end of which is a perforated tube running its width. When a hose is connected to the tube, water seeps out of the perforations, rendering the entire sheet almost frictionless. Children then slide on the sheet on their bellies or backs, as if sledding.

That the speaker, in her almost-immobile and exceedingly frustrated state, can still joke is an excellent sign. That she can remember a happy childhood when movement was taken for granted is strong motivation for her to be able to endure the work needed to return to that state.

The "water" of her life-force is still flowing. It is only the "pipe"--its container, her physical body-- that is "rusted." With enough effort, the rust can be scrubbed off and the pipe should return to its healthier, more vigorous function.

Next Song: Book of Dreams

The Queen and the Soldier

It should be noted at the outset that this song is in "waltz time," or 3/4, and interesting departure for a folk song, but appropriate to the European court setting of the narrative.

The story is about a soldier who confronts his queen. He wants two questions answered: "Who's the woman for whom we all kill?"... and "why" do they kill for her at all?

He starts off, perhaps, on the wrong foot. Rather than ask these questions, he starts first by saying he refuses to fight for her anymore. Well, what if she did have a good reason? After all, he is a soldier, so he may not think that all killing is wrong.

In any case, he begins by saying this, and then he says many more things. Rather than use silence to draw her out, he (very soldier-like) keeps trying until he gets a response. By the end of the song, the queen has barely spoken at all. But let's start at the top.

First, the soldier approaches the queen's "door." Why she has a front door (and not, say, a drawbridge) and why she answers it (and not some guard) we don't know. The queen "knew she'd seen his face someplace before," but we don't know if she tells him that. In any case, she never asks.

Even after his open insubordination, she lets him "inside." As we shall see, this is not just a physical invitation, but an emotional one.

The soldier repeats his declaration of disobedience: "I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will." At this point, it's a wonder that she suffers him to live, let alone desert, but perhaps she is intrigued by his brashness.

Shockingly, she invites him into her bedroom. Perhaps she has needed this excuse, all along, to unburden herself of something, of her reasons for continuing the war.  But "she never once took the crown from her head," letting him know who is still in charge.

And then... he talks again! Clearly, she means to tell him something, but his impatience wins out. Perhaps, more than an answer, he wants a chance to unburden himself. He wanted to know for whom he kills, and now that he has met her, he observes, "You are so very young." He also says that they are losing the war: "I have seen more battles lost than I have battles won."

Finally, she speaks: "You won't understand, and you may as well not try." But he's not buying it. She didn't bring him into her private chambers to tell him... that she wasn't going to tell him anything. Now, she seems vulnerable, though: "Her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry." It seems that he might pity her. That she might be suffering somehow. Maybe if he fixed it, she would feel better, and then perhaps she'd even call off the war.

Then she says her longest statement: "I've swallowed a secret burning thread/ It cuts me inside, and often I've bled." This enigmatic statement, however, is really only a recapitulation of her previous one: "I'm not telling you because I can't." But yes, she is suffering, and yes, the battle is her way-- however horrifying-- of coping. If she can't be happy...

It may be, given her age, that she has begun menstruating: "often I've bled," she says, from "inside." She says she feels she is being "cut... inside" by a "thread"-- a fair description of menstrual cramping. And she may even have swallowed a string at some point in childhood, and now mistakenly attributes both symptoms to this. It may also be that, as she is a young queen, her mother is not there to guide her through this experience (having died and left her daughter queen), and so she developed this other theory herself.

The soldier then does something odd. He doesn't probe further, asking, "What do you mean by a 'thread'?" He doesn't offer her unconditional acceptance. He doesn't say, "If you tell me, and I think it's a good cause, I will fight again,"

Instead, he places his hand on her head and bows her to the ground. It may be at this point that her crown falls off.

Now that she has semi-revealed her secret, he asserts (again, like a soldier) his victory. He begins to say condescending things, accusing her of being "hungry" and "weak." He may think he is being understanding, but he forgets that, crown or no, she is still queen. And even now that she has semi-answered his question, he repeats that he will not fight for her.

Since this is likely the first man she has had any openness with, it is not odd that she quickly develops an infatuation: "She wanted more than she ever could say," knowing that a queen does not marry a commoner. She is "frightened" by her feelings, and "ashamed." After all, to love is to be vulnerable, and a queen leading a battle can be nothing of the sort.

Surprisingly, he confesses that he is falling for her! A woman who daily puts him in mortal peril, and does not even have the decency to give him a reason. Yet, she is young and troubled-- and in a song, this is often enough.

All of this is too much for her. Predictably, the soldier is killed at her order. The outward reason, of course, is his blatant insubordination. But the deeper reason is that he potentially wields power over the queen, and that is not acceptable.

The queen doesn't need a man-- she is not ready for one in any case. She needs a mother. Someone who can teach her what being a woman, and a queen means. Someone who can show her that vulnerability is strength. Instead, the queen continues "strangling in solitude," and the battle rages on.

For the soldier, the moral of the story is: if you going to desert, desert. Sneak away silently, even if you never knew why you were fighting. Don't lose your head over it.

IMPACT: Vega became the first celebrity to perform a concert in Second Life, a virtual-reality world in cyberspace, with this song.

Next Song: Knight Moves