Just to make it clear what the song is about, it's song's title is "Birth-Day." With a hyphen. It's not a "birthday," the anniversary of a birth, but the actual day of the actual birth.
In Vega's case, most likely that of her daughter, Ruby, who was born in 1994. This is the first song on Vega's Nine Objects of Desire, which was released in 1996. Her previous alum, 99.9..., came out in 1992; both albums were produced by Mitchell Froom, whom she married in 1995.
So, chronologically, it goes-- 1992, 99.9 is produced and released; 1994, Ruby is born (and this song was likely written); 1995, Vega and Froom marry; 1996, Nine Objects is released. (Sadly, Vega and Froom will separate in 1998, but that's covered in later albums, and first we have to get through their marriage, song by song).
To this song itself... it starts with the acknowledgement of the pain of childbirth, but with the self-reassurance that "this pain will go" once the process is over. But she must "step through all that's left to feel," first, and it is a gradual series of steps in most cases, not a running or rushing in any way.
Many couples feel the way the speaker does about their child, that it is their "love made real." Love itself is very abstract, but a child that is literally the product of that love, and is genetically half of each of them, becomes a living symbol of that love.
The directive, "Don't move, don't touch/ Don't talk so much" may be to herself, or to her over-helpful partner. Or both.
While many deliveries in the Western world are done with the mother on her back, there has been a movement to prefer-- or at least try-- earlier, more traditional methods. These include having the mother stand or squat, so that gravity can help pull... and having the mother on her hands and knees, imitating the way other mammals deliver. The speaker here tries these positions, telling herself to "strip" and then "find a place to kneel."
Even in the throes of the pain, the mother is keenly aware of the special-ness of the moment. Before, she calmed herself with the idea that the pain would "go," now she is sad to realize that "this day will go," and what is now an experience will soon be a mere memory.
A wave of pain hits, disrupting her philosophizing. Now she seems to "crawl the wall." Evidently, in her all-fours position, she is facing the wall and bracing against it with her hands, so looks like she is trying to scale it or crawl up it.
"She's the ticket to the future," she thinks of her soon-to-arrive baby. "Don't listen down the hall," of the maternity ward, she tells herself. Perhaps she hears the screams of other women in labor and worries that she will be in that much pain; perhaps she hears the cries of newborns and wishes that it were her kid making that noise already. She reminds herself to focus on her own situation.
The position she is in not only resembles crawling, but prostrating oneself in prayer. "You can say your prayer to the head of this bed," she mutters, feeling that no caring God would put people through so much pain just to do the most natural thing, let alone answer a prayer to make it hurt less. And it hurts quite a bit, all over: "It begins at your knees and goes right to your head."
Now, she is re-positioned so that she is on her back, and held in place with a "strap" at each "wrist" and ankle. "I wait to meet my love made real," she repeats, hoping that a focus on her objective will help her endure the next phase.
At this point, she is so worn out that she has begun to "shake all over like an old, sick dog." If the childbirth has been "natural" to this point, now chemical medications are introduced. "There's a needle here, needle there"-- one serum to numb the area, and one to induce the cervix to widen. Her shivering has not subsided, even as the numbness and mental fatigue set in, and she starts to "tremble in the fog."
We're almost there, though... "It's a tight squeeze, vice grip," as the head and then the rest of the body start to pass through the opening. "Ice and fire" might refer to the off combination of numbness and pain at this point.
And...? It's a girl. "She's a hot little treasure," coos the new mother. "And the wave goes higher"-- the elation of holding the newborn in her arms is an intense wave of pure emotion.
The song's short phrases, disjointed images, and general confusion mirror the wild sensations of childbirth. The physical, mental and emotional aspects switch and mingle and compete, with a pain interrupting an emotion which in turn is shoved aside by an instruction from the doctor or a question from a nurse... it's a tumult in many dimensions. And the thudding, swirling music and lyrics capture the sense of being tossed about as if one is in a storm at sea.
But the pain, and the day, do go. And you're left with a baby at the end, who stays.
Not a bad trade, all told.
Next Song: Headshots
Showing posts with label medical. Show all posts
Showing posts with label medical. Show all posts
Monday, December 14, 2015
Monday, November 9, 2015
Bad Wisdom
Another song on the album about a medical condition, if not an illness. This song is about a young woman-- "too young," according to the woman herself-- who gets pregnant.
She is exhibiting "strange" symptoms, but her mother is in some sort of denial. The doctor is aware of the woman's condition. "He knows I'm not a child," not too young to have sex. But he "doesn't dare ask the right question." Which is if she did.
After all, a mother-- and hers is there, at the appointment-- who does not consider the possibility that her "sick" child is actually simply pregnant is not emotionally ready to hear that she is.
Her friends, still young enough to "play games," have abandoned her. "I've grown serious," which is understandable, but her friends are too young to guess the reason, and so have "left" her to her own "daydreaming." Which is likely about what her life would have been like had she not gotten pregnant.
She starts to add up the "price" she has to pay for this "bad wisdom." Not that sex is bad, or that pregnancy is-- just that it's bad, now, for her. She knows "too much, too soon." She is just past playing with a doll, and should not worried about caring for a baby.
The woman now turns to society's reaction. She has learned that those who are "good"-- who follow the moral as well as the legal code-- "will be protected." However, those who have "fallen through the crack" are not, so there is "no getting back" to her former "good" status. Even a criminal can be rehabilitated and stolen items returned. But motherhood is forever, and therefore so is her "sin."
She realizes she can "never trust whoever gets elected." Because she has been immoral, she can forget any governmental assistance with her child. There is no incentive for an elected official to offer any, and plenty for balancing the city's budget on her back instead. Then the mayor gets to claim moral superiority, and for free.
Next, she loses the esteem and closeness of her mother, who by now has seen her swelling belly. Her mother's eyes have "gone suddenly cold." In a wry pun, the woman says this reaction is not what she was "expecting." Even her own mother has become emotionally distant. Perhaps she feels that she has failed as a mother, or that she has been betrayed by her wayward child. Maybe, on top of it all, she does not like the idea of being a grandmother yet, as it might make her feel old.
We hear about the "blossom of young womanhood," but that is not case here. The woman says that she feels "cut at the root like a weed." Why? "There's no one to hear my small story." Not her mother, not her friends, not the government. No one cares.
She made one mistake, and now she will pay for it, alone (well, aside from the baby), for the rest of her life. She compares her shunned status to that of a prostitute, "a woman who walks in the street." She says that like a whore, she will "pay for [her] life with [her] body."
It seems like having an abortion is not possible. It is easier for a politician to placate a puritanical public by denying abortion rights than to risk their ire; many who would use abortion services are too young to vote in any case and so have no political clout.
There is the option of having the child and then offering it for adoption. Again, this still requires a full course of labor and delivery, and the stigma of going through pregnancy in public.
The other factor is the father of this fetus-- he is not even mentioned. Knowing that the man-- who imparted this sexual "wisdom" to her-- simply used her and abandoned her tells her something else about men. Yet more "bad" information. But the fact that he is not even brought up speaks volumes-- she might have thought to rely on friends, family, or society, but it never even occurred to her to consider the involvement of the man who bares at least as much responsibility as herself. Who would even think he'd be around?
In a maddeningly ironic way, had she been raped, she would have some legal recourse. But it sounds like she sought this "wisdom" and only later regretted not having waited to learn its lessons. It also sounds like she-- and the baby-- are better off without him in any case, his responsibility to them notwithstanding.
This song is a cautionary tale. For one piece of wisdom, all this is lost: her friendships, her mother's affection, her social standing, her boyfriend, her future...
"Too young to know too much too soon." She would have still learned this wisdom, had she waited, and the tuition cost would not have been so very, very high.
Next Song: When Heroes Go Down
She is exhibiting "strange" symptoms, but her mother is in some sort of denial. The doctor is aware of the woman's condition. "He knows I'm not a child," not too young to have sex. But he "doesn't dare ask the right question." Which is if she did.
After all, a mother-- and hers is there, at the appointment-- who does not consider the possibility that her "sick" child is actually simply pregnant is not emotionally ready to hear that she is.
Her friends, still young enough to "play games," have abandoned her. "I've grown serious," which is understandable, but her friends are too young to guess the reason, and so have "left" her to her own "daydreaming." Which is likely about what her life would have been like had she not gotten pregnant.
She starts to add up the "price" she has to pay for this "bad wisdom." Not that sex is bad, or that pregnancy is-- just that it's bad, now, for her. She knows "too much, too soon." She is just past playing with a doll, and should not worried about caring for a baby.
The woman now turns to society's reaction. She has learned that those who are "good"-- who follow the moral as well as the legal code-- "will be protected." However, those who have "fallen through the crack" are not, so there is "no getting back" to her former "good" status. Even a criminal can be rehabilitated and stolen items returned. But motherhood is forever, and therefore so is her "sin."
She realizes she can "never trust whoever gets elected." Because she has been immoral, she can forget any governmental assistance with her child. There is no incentive for an elected official to offer any, and plenty for balancing the city's budget on her back instead. Then the mayor gets to claim moral superiority, and for free.
Next, she loses the esteem and closeness of her mother, who by now has seen her swelling belly. Her mother's eyes have "gone suddenly cold." In a wry pun, the woman says this reaction is not what she was "expecting." Even her own mother has become emotionally distant. Perhaps she feels that she has failed as a mother, or that she has been betrayed by her wayward child. Maybe, on top of it all, she does not like the idea of being a grandmother yet, as it might make her feel old.
We hear about the "blossom of young womanhood," but that is not case here. The woman says that she feels "cut at the root like a weed." Why? "There's no one to hear my small story." Not her mother, not her friends, not the government. No one cares.
She made one mistake, and now she will pay for it, alone (well, aside from the baby), for the rest of her life. She compares her shunned status to that of a prostitute, "a woman who walks in the street." She says that like a whore, she will "pay for [her] life with [her] body."
It seems like having an abortion is not possible. It is easier for a politician to placate a puritanical public by denying abortion rights than to risk their ire; many who would use abortion services are too young to vote in any case and so have no political clout.
There is the option of having the child and then offering it for adoption. Again, this still requires a full course of labor and delivery, and the stigma of going through pregnancy in public.
The other factor is the father of this fetus-- he is not even mentioned. Knowing that the man-- who imparted this sexual "wisdom" to her-- simply used her and abandoned her tells her something else about men. Yet more "bad" information. But the fact that he is not even brought up speaks volumes-- she might have thought to rely on friends, family, or society, but it never even occurred to her to consider the involvement of the man who bares at least as much responsibility as herself. Who would even think he'd be around?
In a maddeningly ironic way, had she been raped, she would have some legal recourse. But it sounds like she sought this "wisdom" and only later regretted not having waited to learn its lessons. It also sounds like she-- and the baby-- are better off without him in any case, his responsibility to them notwithstanding.
This song is a cautionary tale. For one piece of wisdom, all this is lost: her friendships, her mother's affection, her social standing, her boyfriend, her future...
"Too young to know too much too soon." She would have still learned this wisdom, had she waited, and the tuition cost would not have been so very, very high.
Next Song: When Heroes Go Down
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
99.9 F
This song seems an update of Peggy Lee's (in)famous song "Fever."
The song starts with the diagnosis of the patient's temperature and "stable" status, but then adds the prognosis "...with rising possibilities." That's not usually what a doctor says... what is it that might actually be rising? Hmmm....
Also, the prescription? "Stay awake at night." A doctor faced with a real fever might suggest sleep instead.
So this seems to be a couple engaged in some sort of sexy medical role play. The line "it could be normal, but it isn't quite" seems to belie a hidden kink as well.
There is a lot of repetition in this song-- it seems to have multiple choruses. The bridge is only sung once. "Pale as a candle" is a nice line because it evokes something pallid, yes, but also aflame (it's not "pale as snow," or "wool.")
The metaphor of contagion is used to evoke the idea that one person's passion could ignite another's: "If I touch you/ I might get what you've got."
One repeated element is this verse: "Something cool against the skin/ Is what you could be needing." This is almost certainly a reference to the song "Small Blue Thing," with its line: "I am cold against your skin."
The implication of "If I touch you," is that she hasn't yet, so this reinforces the idea that she is still "cool" while he is warm with his... temperature(?) still "rising."
In a later song on this album, "If You Were in My Movie," Vega again explores the idea of romantic role play, and this doctor/patient game is one of the scenarios described.
It is probably not all that surprising that someone so focused on medical issues could sexualize the idea. If hospital visits were consuming someone's time, this might be a natural way to take ownership of that unwelcome circumstance.
Next Song: Blood Sings
The song starts with the diagnosis of the patient's temperature and "stable" status, but then adds the prognosis "...with rising possibilities." That's not usually what a doctor says... what is it that might actually be rising? Hmmm....
Also, the prescription? "Stay awake at night." A doctor faced with a real fever might suggest sleep instead.
So this seems to be a couple engaged in some sort of sexy medical role play. The line "it could be normal, but it isn't quite" seems to belie a hidden kink as well.
There is a lot of repetition in this song-- it seems to have multiple choruses. The bridge is only sung once. "Pale as a candle" is a nice line because it evokes something pallid, yes, but also aflame (it's not "pale as snow," or "wool.")
The metaphor of contagion is used to evoke the idea that one person's passion could ignite another's: "If I touch you/ I might get what you've got."
One repeated element is this verse: "Something cool against the skin/ Is what you could be needing." This is almost certainly a reference to the song "Small Blue Thing," with its line: "I am cold against your skin."
The implication of "If I touch you," is that she hasn't yet, so this reinforces the idea that she is still "cool" while he is warm with his... temperature(?) still "rising."
In a later song on this album, "If You Were in My Movie," Vega again explores the idea of romantic role play, and this doctor/patient game is one of the scenarios described.
It is probably not all that surprising that someone so focused on medical issues could sexualize the idea. If hospital visits were consuming someone's time, this might be a natural way to take ownership of that unwelcome circumstance.
Next Song: Blood Sings
Monday, August 31, 2015
Fifty-fifty Chance
The song is about a patient and the person visiting her (the speaker).
It starts with someone "lying in bed" in a hospital's cardiac ward. The doctor is explaining to the visitor that the patient has a "50-50" chance of survival.
The visitor, possibly the patient's adult child, sees "a pan on the floor/ Filled with something black." Her response is universal: "I need to know/ I'm afraid to ask" what it is.
The visitor then pledges her support to the patient, who is unresponsive. She could be sleeping or under sedation, but given the information we learn later, likely not in a coma.
"I hug you/ I hum to you... I touch you," says the visitor to the patient. "I tell you/ I love you./ Sing to you/ Bring to you/ Anything."
The visitor notes that that the patient, who should be calm since she is resting, has an accelerated heartbeat. Also, she is shivering: "Her body trembles with the effort to last."
The doctor seems satisfied, however, that the patient is over the worst of it. In fact, after one more night in the hospital, "She's going home/ Tomorrow at ten," meaning 10:00 a.m.
Then comes the chilling last lines: "The question is/ Will she try it again?"
And now we know why the patient was there: attempted suicide. The black material in the pan may have been whatever poison was pumped out of the patient's system.
In reality, a patient with only a "50-50 chance" of survival would not likely be sent home the next day, so the last verse could take place a week or two after the others.
There are two contrasts set up in this song. One is between a mind that wants to die being housed in a body that wants to live. The other is a person who wants to die when there is someone in her life who loves her so much.
If she is in the cardiac ward, this may be a clue as to why the patient attempted suicide in the first place. She may have a congenital or painful heart condition, and would rather die at her own hand than be the victim of a heart attack.
It is bad enough to take a patient home who may have a relapse of a disease or a recurrence of a cancer. It is something else entirely to know that a person might decide to try and take her own life again-- how could you possibly be vigilant enough? You have to sleep sometime...
There should be some staff person at the hospital, a social worker or psychiatrist, who can offer help and suggestions, and possibly even prescribe therapy, anti-depressants... something. Heck, the daughter might need some support, for herself.
To send a woman home with her suicidal mother, possibly the day after the attempt itself, with only a 50% chance of survival, and no psychological support? This does not sound like a doctor or hospital I would ever want to wind up with.
Next Song: Pilgrimage
It starts with someone "lying in bed" in a hospital's cardiac ward. The doctor is explaining to the visitor that the patient has a "50-50" chance of survival.
The visitor, possibly the patient's adult child, sees "a pan on the floor/ Filled with something black." Her response is universal: "I need to know/ I'm afraid to ask" what it is.
The visitor then pledges her support to the patient, who is unresponsive. She could be sleeping or under sedation, but given the information we learn later, likely not in a coma.
"I hug you/ I hum to you... I touch you," says the visitor to the patient. "I tell you/ I love you./ Sing to you/ Bring to you/ Anything."
The visitor notes that that the patient, who should be calm since she is resting, has an accelerated heartbeat. Also, she is shivering: "Her body trembles with the effort to last."
The doctor seems satisfied, however, that the patient is over the worst of it. In fact, after one more night in the hospital, "She's going home/ Tomorrow at ten," meaning 10:00 a.m.
Then comes the chilling last lines: "The question is/ Will she try it again?"
And now we know why the patient was there: attempted suicide. The black material in the pan may have been whatever poison was pumped out of the patient's system.
In reality, a patient with only a "50-50 chance" of survival would not likely be sent home the next day, so the last verse could take place a week or two after the others.
There are two contrasts set up in this song. One is between a mind that wants to die being housed in a body that wants to live. The other is a person who wants to die when there is someone in her life who loves her so much.
If she is in the cardiac ward, this may be a clue as to why the patient attempted suicide in the first place. She may have a congenital or painful heart condition, and would rather die at her own hand than be the victim of a heart attack.
It is bad enough to take a patient home who may have a relapse of a disease or a recurrence of a cancer. It is something else entirely to know that a person might decide to try and take her own life again-- how could you possibly be vigilant enough? You have to sleep sometime...
There should be some staff person at the hospital, a social worker or psychiatrist, who can offer help and suggestions, and possibly even prescribe therapy, anti-depressants... something. Heck, the daughter might need some support, for herself.
To send a woman home with her suicidal mother, possibly the day after the attempt itself, with only a 50% chance of survival, and no psychological support? This does not sound like a doctor or hospital I would ever want to wind up with.
Next Song: Pilgrimage
Monday, June 29, 2015
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
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
Monday, March 23, 2015
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
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
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