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

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.

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"