I Never Wear White

"The Man in Black" is, of course, Johnny Cash; he sings a song by that title as well. But it's also Wesley, in The Princess Bride, as The Dread Pirate Roberts. And then there are The Men in Black, alien hunters from the movie of that title. Now, the 2016 TV show Westworld, based on a 1970s movie, has a character named "Man in Black." (Zorro is also a man in black, although not called as such.)

A quick search reveals that "Man in Black" is used for everyone from racing's Dale Earnhardt to characters from TV's Lost and filmdom's For a Few Dollar's More-- and novels from Stephen King back to... Geoffrey Chaucer!

However, "women in black" are far rarer. The novel The Woman in Black is only from 1983, and everything based on it is even more recent. There is also a movement of anti-war protesters who came to be known as The Women in Black.

Well, now we might finally have a musical Woman in Black to compare to Cash.

The song is basically two lists: one of the kinds of people who do wear white, and then another of those who wear black.

"White," it says, is for: virgins, "children in summer," and brides.

"Black," meanwhile, is for: outlaws, dancers, "the poet of the dark," the crone, the bastard, "the schoolgirl in uniform," "the servant in the hall," the gangster, and the widow.

What's wrong with white? Nothing in general, just that it's wrong for her. Again, why? Well, "white is too blinding/ Always reminding/ Of the innocent who fall."

So, black is either for those who already fell, or for those who were never innocent to begin with and started, so to speak, on the floor. "Those," as she puts it, "of my station in life" (see the above list).

Black, furthermore, "is for secrets... it's the shade and the shadow." While white is "blinding" and revealing, black hides, and allows things to be hidden. While white shows things to the eye, black is "the depth into your eye," the pupil, the part that sees. Yes, ironically, it is the blackest part of the eye that lets the light in.

Let's look again at the list of black-wearers. The outlaw and gangster are criminals; of course they need to hide. The poet doesn't need to hide, but prefers to, the better to observe without being observed. The widow wears black out of grief and somberness; she is not supposed to attract men's romantic attention with color. So these prefer black by choice.

The servant is never to be the center of attention, but is meant to serve those who are. The old crone and bastard are, by their nature, outcasts and affronts to decent society, and so shunted into the shadows. The schoolgirl is likewise deemed unimportant by society-- she is both young and female, making her doubly dismiss-able. These are made to wear black so that they fade into the background, even against their will.

Then there is the dancer. She chooses to wear black, yet is in the spotlight! Public as she is, she as a person is less important than her art, her movements. By wearing black, she disappears as an individual, and becomes a mere screen on to which the audience projects its self-image.

"Black is the truth of my situation," the speaker concludes. "All other colors lie." So she either is made to wear black but has embraced it, or has chosen it outright. It allows her to hide.

Musically, the song is one of Vega's hardest-rocking numbers, at least since 99.9oF.

Next song: Portrait of the Knight of Wands

The Silver Lady

This rare track is available on volume 4 of the Close Up series.

What starts off as a traditional folksong turns into a meditation on an issue of incredible emotional trauma-- what to do with an elderly parent, especially one with mental-health issues.

The song begins as if describing a child's visit with an imaginary fairy-friend: "When I was a little girl... I once spoke to the Silver Lady/ But I never saw her again." It continues that this mystical lady "flew out of the sky" and could go "riding on the water" and on a "golden pony." So, typical fairy-tale imagery.

Then there is a note of sadness: "Only once did I hear her laugh/ And it echoed far and lonely." So, despite her otherworldly trappings, she is not some sort of angel. She was "the crazy man's only daughter," which might have something to do with her state of mind.

We now hear the conversation alluded to in the opening verse, about the one time our speaker actually "spoke with the Silver Lady." The conversation took place on a riverbank.

The child approached the Lady, who was crying, to comfort her: "If I had wings like you, I would be flying... and singing."

She says she had no wings-- perhaps she only looked like she was flying when she was galloping on horseback?-- or "I would surely be gone."

She continues that she is her father's only daughter, but that he had older sons... who all left her to take care of their "crazy" father, who is also aging.

And now, she is torn. She wants desperately to leave, and is feeling strangled by her being tethered to him: "I feel the ocean pulling me... I want to go with [the breezes]... This life is killing me." But how can she leave him, helpless and alone? Plus, her abandonment would "break his heart."

She turns away, and the child follows the river back home.

"The next day I heard she had taken her horse/ And gone off to parts unknown." This is the first point we know for certain that the Lady is not just a figment of the child's vivid imagination. 

So the Lady does leave. And her father? He stayed at home, stopped coming into town, and started "roaming down by the riverside." And if rumors are to be believed, he committed suicide, drowning himself in the river.

The speaker never saw the Silver Lady again. But now, she says, "when I felt a silver breeze/ I knew she had sent it from wherever she was/ To tell us that now she was free."

For a song that begins in fantasy, the scenario is all too real. The "burnout" felt by caregivers, especially those who care for those with Alzheimer's and other conditions, can be devastating, as can the guilt of leaving them. And far too often, it is their daughters left with this obligation, while the sons are free to leave and start their own families. 

Today, at least for those of us in cities, there are several options. Caregivers can be given respite workers to take care of their loved ones, so that they can continue to have somewhat-normal lives. And in some cases, the best option is round-the-clock professional care in a dedicated facility, provided by people working in shifts to avoid exactly this sort of burnout.

Mental illness never takes a break, let alone a vacation. But human beings, even machines, cannot be expected to work ceaselessly. The Silver Lady should have insisted that her brothers help. She could have reached out to her neighbors, to the local clergy or other charitable organizations. But it sounds like this all took place in a rural setting, with few such resources.

What begins as a child's fairytale of a beautiful Silver Lady turns out to be a lesson in how poorly society has dealt with mental illness throughout most of its history. At least now things are beginning to change, so that women don't have to go gray-- sorry, "silver"-- so young.

Next Song: Crack in the Wall 

It Makes Me Wonder

This song is about what's known in psychiatric lingo as a "Madonna-Whore Complex." It happens when a man has difficulty sexualizing his wife... because she is also the mother of his children. She can't be both the holy Madonna and the raunchy whore! The same person, both, as the song says, "sacred and profane"? Impossible.

In this case, the woman is having some trouble of this sort of her own. While in the throes of passion, her "Virgin Mary" necklace flies up and hits her in the mouth, as if to punish her for her sinful behavior.

Which... is how one becomes a mother in the first place, right? It's very confusing.

The next verse appears to be about a baby that refuses to nurse. However, since this is the only verse about this, it may not be about that at all, but about a man who is acting like a "sulky baby" because he is turned off by her lactation. Leaving her "untouched" and unfulfilled. "Reject"-ed.

So she starts to "wonder" if he is holding her. Holding her, that is, to "the same blue flame" that he feels he is subject to. "I feel you scolding me," she says, instead of holding her. Scolding her for wanting sex when she shouldn't. And then making him feel bad for rejecting something she shouldn't want him to have to begin with.

Like I said, confusing.

She sees what the problem is. "Your virgin mary's in the way," she says-- when you look at me, you want to see a virgin... so you "hallucinate" one, she explains. This false vision "obscures" his view of the real her. "It's me here, made of clay!" she reminds him. She is not holy, but human; even the Bible says people are made from clay. So go ahead and grab her! It's OK.

He sees a thin line. On one side, "austerity" and celibacy. On the other, "just give in" and "embrace that white oblivion." Which could mean death (he says)... but also ecstasy (she says).

Frustrated, she tells him his "expectations" are too "high": "Who could live up to this?" Who could, in fact, be so pure? She wants to be chased, not chaste!

Even when he does kiss her, it's like that of an "angel." Pure, and "cold." Full of love, maybe, but not lust.

Sadly, in many such cases, the man will be unable to bring himself to have sex with his suddenly-holy wife and even cheat on her! With someone he does not esteem, and so feels comfortable "using."

While right after childbirth is no time for hanky-panky, the woman's body does reset in four to six weeks. By then, the husband should be missing having his wife in all her... ways and want to start things back up.

When he doesn't, when by that time he has idolized and idealized her, then the trouble starts.

Of course, it might have nothing to do with childbirth. A man may simply fall in love with a woman in a deeply spiritual way and feel it is wrong to "sully" that purity with passion.

In all such cases, both the man and woman suffer, and counseling is strongly urged... so that the urge can once again become strong.


Next Song: Soap and Water

Tired of Sleeping

This seems to be a song about illness, told from the point of view of the ailing one.

If the idea of "sleeping" is literal, then this person has intense lethargy, such as with chronic fatigue syndrome, or is perhaps in an actual coma. If it is metaphoric, it can be seen as a state of severe depression, in the psychological, clinical sense.

In either case, the person is aware that she is sick and longs for her wakeful energy to return: "I'm tired of sleeping."

Why? She is not having nightmares, at least not insufferable ones: "The dreams are not so bad." Rather, she feels guilty as her lack of productivity, as if she is aware that others are doing everything for her she is usually capable of doing herself: "There's so much to do."

One of the people, perhaps the main person, caring for her is her mother. It is bad enough to have some paid nurse or orderly checking up on you. But to have your own mother continue to have to mother you as adult is heartbreaking.

Next, she becomes aware of an "old man." She realizes that he is trying to communicate with her. However, she "just can't hear what he's saying," either because he is speaking too quietly, or-- since she feels she just can't hear him-- that the fault is her illness'.

Who is he? Her doctor? A priest? We meet him again later for more clues.

First, we switch from an old man to "kids." They are "playing in pennies," that is, gambling with pennies as the stakes. They seem to have plenty to play with, as they are "up to their knees in money."

But they are also up to their knees in "dirt," perhaps the speaker's opinion of what money is worth. "All your money won't another minute buy," sings the rock group Kansas in "Dust in the Wind." So someone near death might see this quest for money as useful as a quest for dirt.

Now, where is this dirt? At the "churchyard steps." This brings religion into the mix. Combined with the pennies, these images together recall the imagery of moneychangers outside the Temple. And we all know how Jesus felt about that.

Further, the kids are at the "steps" of the church, or more at the steps of the "yard" before the "church." Near enough physically to see it. But while gambling, spiritually distant indeed. For the sake of pennies, they forgo the desire to enter the church and find true "riches."

Now, we return to the man. He "ripped out his lining." We are not sure yet why he would do so, but at this point we assume that she means the lining of a coat or suit jacket.

No. He somehow ripped out the lining of his "body"! Yes, "He tore out a piece of his body." Dare we ask which piece? He wanted to show "us"-- the speaker and her mother-- his "clean quilted heart."

This is quite graphic. And also quite impossible. Aside from the anatomical issues, hearts are made of muscle and are not "quilted." We are left to believe this is an hallucination or dream image.

But of what? The most common image of a person holding his own heart is Jesus, with his hands holding the Sacred Heart.

On the other hand... Jesus was not "old." He was only 33 at the time of his death. So this could be a conflation of Jesus and the Father...?

If the old man is a doctor, perhaps she sees him open his lab coat and show her the donor heart she is to receive, but in her illness-addled state, she sees the images she describes.

What is clear is that the image is a subconscious-based one, a dream image or hallucination. Her condition is medical, so it makes sense that her subconscious is showing her anatomical imagery.

The last image is of a "bird" that has been snared. It is "on" a string, but has not landed to perch there, as if on a branch or telephone wire. Rather, it is "hanging" from it. Further, she cannot leave the string, as she would of course be able to if she has simply lighted there. No, she is "twisting," "dancing," and "fighting" to be loose. She knows that "her small life" depends on her breaking free.

This is an apt metaphor for someone in a coma or other such state. The person-- the consciousness that is a person, the self-- is confined in the uncooperative body, like a trapped animal.

She wants to hear what the old man is saying. She wants to do things for herself, and have her mother stop tending her. She is spending all her psychic energy to re-enter the world of interaction and communication, but she is emotionally exhausted. She just wants to be well already!

The lyrics offer no resolution, and leave us with the frustrated invalid. But the music, which repeats the chorus several times, ends with an upward modulation. The entire time, the song has been sung in a low register. The final time, the melody line is noticeably higher, with a shade of echo.

This may be the singer's way of indicating that the soul has left the body and it, at least, is free.


IMPACT:
The song is the first on the album Days of Open Hand. Which won a Grammy. For Best Album Package.

Well, better than nothing.


Next Song: Men in a War