Carson's Last Supper

The "last supper" everyone means when they use that term is, of course, Jesus' last supper the night before his crucifixion.

This song is about, and in the voice of, Carson McCullers, a (female) American author who did, to be fair, die younger than average-- at 50, of a stroke, and she was not healthy leading up to that.

The song is about a metaphorical supper, however, one at which all the world is welcome: "Each one belongs at this feast."

This includes both the "rich... whole... humble... grand" and the "poor... broken... twisted... proud." Both "the sinner and the sinned-against."

What will they drink to at this feast? Again, both the "pleasures... gains... bliss" on the one hand and the "pains... losses... sorrows" on the other.

She welcomes them all: "Come and be at this table." She urges them to take what is hers, and to share what is theirs in turn. When this happens, "All come together, feeding the soul."

She is saying that her work has attempted to encompass the entire human condition, because only this way can art be satisfied, can the reader be satisfied, can the writer be satisfied.

And when all elements of humanity are represented, the artist and audience will "be as one solid body together."

She is completely dedicated to this ideal. "This is my stand... one strong, true purpose... no hope of rest."

"The love of my life," she says, "is humanity." And yes, she means as far as representing all of humanity in her stories, but to the end of connecting fully with her readers. They have to be able to see themselves in her stories, and to identify with all her characters.

Even if you are not a Southern cafe owner who has been betrayed... you have been betrayed, at some point in your life, so can see yourself in the cafe owner.

The song is the last in a one-person show that Vega wrote about McCullers, and she plays the author onstage. So it's fair to say that this is what Vega hopes she has been able to do in her own work-- to represent, and thereby connect with, all of humanity.

Yes, you might say, but aren't most of Vega's songs about herself?

Maybe, but what better way to connect with humanity than to be... a human?


Next Song: [none so far]

My Favorite Plum

This waltz is about the deliciousness of wanting and waiting and not-yet-having. It is the last song on Vega's Nine Objects of Desire, on which they are, um, 12 songs. So it is unclear how, among the other songs, these nine objects are distributed; some songs must have none, while others have one-- and maybe more-- apiece.

What is clear is that this song is about one object, a plum, and the desire for that object. Another object of desire is the "tombstone" from the previous song, most likely. She never outright says she wants a tombstone, though, just that she "likes" tombstones.

This plum, however, she clearly desires. The entire song is about wanting it-- or whatever it represents. I mean, could a whole song just be about wanting this one plum?

One of the reasons the plum might be so desirable is outlined right off: it "hangs so far from me." Distance, like absence, can make the heart grow fonder. Also, it "sleeps," and "lays/ languid." The inner flesh presses the outer skin, indicating that it is "bursting with secrets." And all while "never noticing me here below." How temptingly coy!

Its appearance? "See how it shines." Its flavor? "It will be so sweet." It is luscious? "I've been so dry/ It would make my heart complete."

How does it... sound? It "calls" to her. It wants her to consume it, she just knows. And all this lying about? "It lies in wait for me."

She knows she wants this one and none else: "This is the one for me." This refrain will be repeated. She has "seen," even "had," the "rest"... and also the "best"-- this one-- which "is the one for me."

However, the course of true love never did run smooth. There exists the possibility that she may not achieve this plum: "Maybe a girl will take it/ Maybe a boy will steal it/ Maybe a shake of the bough/ Will wake it and make it fall." And so, "You say that I'm foolish to trust."

Yet, her faith is unshaken: "It will be mine, and I know it must." How can she be so certain? She is "right here/ Longing endlessly." When it falls, she will be there to catch it.

In many ways, the singer is in the same position as the figures on Keats' Grecian urn: "Fair youth... thou canst not leave thy song... Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss/ Though winning near the goal."

Does this sound frustrating? Keats says no: "Do not grieve... For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!.. For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd/ For ever panting, and for ever young."

So too, in this song, we find a moment frozen in time-- the wanting of the ripe, succulent plum, the imagining its smooth rind giving way to the teeth, the longing for the shock of sweet wetness as the pulp caresses the tongue, the dreaming of the sticky juice running rivulets down the chin...

You know, this song may not be about a plum, after all.

Next Song: Lightning

Caramel

This song has a sultry vibe to it. Musically, it is a Brazilian jazz-bossa nova kinda thing.

In it, the speaker tries to convince herself not to dwell on a potential, but impossible, romance. She only halfway succeeds.

It may be that the never-to-be love is of Latin, or other "of color" origin... or perhaps the romance simply took place in a tropical, exotic locale. In any case, "dream(ing) of caramel" and "think(ing) of cinnamon" reminds her of this guy. And such thoughts, she scolds herself, simply "won't do."

No, she repeats, it won't do "to stir a deep desire/ To fan a hidden fire/ That can never burn true." After all, what's the point in frustrating oneself? And, it's simply... improper. Tut tut.

What further indicates that the impossible lover is of a... darker complected sort than herself is the line "I know your skin." Again, this is not to say anything definitive-- most of us have skin, after all. But she says she "knows" it without having said anything else about being intimate. The only other thing she says she knows about him is his "name." So she has been fascinated with, and has studied, his skin more than his other features.

Oh, it would be so easy to just let nature take its course! "I know the way these things begin," she said. If she didn't resist, or he didn't, it would just... happen.

But the consequences are simply too dire, the inevitability of guilt too great: "I don't know how I could live with myself... if you don't go." She doesn't think she could "forgive... (her)self" if he stayed and they gave way to their mutual attraction.

We also don't know why the love is impossible, or morally unforgivable. Is he married? Is she? Most likely at least one of them is. Even if it would be a "shipboard romance" that could never last, two unattached people would still most likely, as Kate Bush put it, "exchange the experience."

In any case, she bids "goodbye." Not to him, though, but to "sweet appetite." What she really misses is less him than the wanting of him, and even this is denied her. It would be one thing if she wanted him but could not have him-- she isn't allowed to even want him.

It's just as well, she concludes, returning to her food metaphor, since "No single bite/ Could satisfy." Smokey Robinson, also using a sweet food in a similar way, had long before concluded that "a taste of honey is worse than none at all." In other words, it's better in their opinion, to not know how great it would have been, and just leave it to imagination, than to know how great this romance is... and can never be again.

This is the opposite idea from Tennyson's assertion that "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." But then, he was talking about a love that was permitted to begin with, not one that was never supposed to happen.

This song is one of Vega's most sensual and languid. Too bad the romance was never allowed to "burn true." Imagine what steamy songs we would have had, then.

IMPACT:
This song was included in the soundtrack to the romantic comedy The Truth About Cats and Dogs.

Next Song: Stockings