"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
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Monday, October 31, 2016
Monday, August 3, 2015
Those Whole Girls
The key to this song-- more of a poem-- is the title.
"Those," as opposed to this girl, the speaker. How are they different? They are "whole."
There is something less than whole about the speaker, however. She has some disability-- physical, mental, emotional, some combination thereof-- that denies her the abilities and skills of the "whole" girls, which she then enumerates.
First, they "hurl... words," possibly at her. The direction in which they hurl them is key-- they don't just hurl them across or over, but "down," from a position of height (perhaps they are not in a bed or wheelchair) or at least a place of assumed superiority.
They can also move very freely. They "run," "spin," and "move." Presumably, our speaker finds these seemingly simple tasks either more challenging or simply impossible.
They also do not just run, but do so "in packs." First, their mobility allows them more ability to socialize. But they use this as a weapon, a tactic of war; the term "packs" refers to a group of wolves, who hunt in such coordinated units.
They have "bloom," or vitality. The word can also refer to their blossoming adulthood-- they may be more teens than "girls," or at least put on such airs.
Overall, the whole girls "know health." This is key-- it seems the speaker does not know health. She is not just sick now, but has been for a long time. So long, she does not remember how health feels anymore, if she ever did.
The whole girls use their health to their advantage. They "skim the cream," taking only the nicest parts of everything, the parts that rise to the top. They go to the best schools, the best parties, the best vacation locales, and they likely seize the best boys.
Moreover, the "fill the brim" and "feel no lack." Their cups, in short, runneth over.
Their social access allows them to have so much gossip they overflow with that, as well; they "drip with news."
The next line may be a pun. They "spin intact," so they may do spins as part of dances or figure skating and not feel dizzy afterward. But Vega's phrasing, with a pause between "in" and "tact," may be more than a nod to the three-syllable structure of the piece. They may "spin"-- as in what "spin doctors" do-- the news they drip with. But they do so with "tact" and charm learned from all the social interaction their health has afforded them.
The whole girls, the speaker continues, "blaze and stun." This could be a reference to their beauty, as in "she's a stunning woman." But it can also be another reference to their viciousness; they may stun as in "stun gun." These are the same young women who can speak with "tact" one minute and "hurl down words" in another. It is not too much of a stretch to assume they can sling an insult at someone so underhandedly their target doesn't even know she's been attacked at first.
Overall, these girls are truly whole. They are sound in mind and body, they have access to the "cream" of what life has to offer, and in everything, they "feel no lack."
We learn four more things about them. One is that that they "breathe with ease." Perhaps this is a clue to what is less than whole about our speaker. She may have a pulmonary disease, or simply asthma. Alternately, she may have a social disorder that prevents her from "breathing easily" when around other people, as with agoraphobia or general anxiety disorder.
The whole girls, however, "need no mercy." The character of Henrick, from Sondheim's A Little Night Music, expresses well what being on the receiving end of compassion can feel like: "It's intolerable, being tolerated." If everyone is saying "poor you," you start to internalize the idea that, yes, you are pitiful.
The whole girls can get out in the sunshine. They can get up and turn on a lamp whenever they please. And so they "move in light" in a way others cannot, who must either live with the darkness or beg the "mercy" of others to flip the switch.
Lastly, the whole girls "run in grace." This could be another way of saying they are graceful, that they can be ballerinas and gymnasts while the not-whole girls can't.
But it could also mean something much sadder. It could mean that they run in Grace, as in the favor of God. And how unfair, that such ungrateful creatures could not only take their health for granted, but use it to lord over others, teasing and excluding them, as if health were a right and not a privilege.
Meanwhile, how might a disabled person feel? Made to suffer, for no reason, by an arbitrary or even malicious Deity? How must it feel to suffer, and beyond that, feel one deserved this suffering? And if they did not deserve it, and God made them, why did He make them this way? Adding religion to the equation could bring in entirely new series of questions, pains, and doubts.
Vega imagines the way a disabled teen might look at her abled peers. Vega urges the listener to take a closer look at those less than whole girls, and boys, and try to make them feel more whole, and more a part of the whole.
Next Song: Room off the Street
"Those," as opposed to this girl, the speaker. How are they different? They are "whole."
There is something less than whole about the speaker, however. She has some disability-- physical, mental, emotional, some combination thereof-- that denies her the abilities and skills of the "whole" girls, which she then enumerates.
First, they "hurl... words," possibly at her. The direction in which they hurl them is key-- they don't just hurl them across or over, but "down," from a position of height (perhaps they are not in a bed or wheelchair) or at least a place of assumed superiority.
They can also move very freely. They "run," "spin," and "move." Presumably, our speaker finds these seemingly simple tasks either more challenging or simply impossible.
They also do not just run, but do so "in packs." First, their mobility allows them more ability to socialize. But they use this as a weapon, a tactic of war; the term "packs" refers to a group of wolves, who hunt in such coordinated units.
They have "bloom," or vitality. The word can also refer to their blossoming adulthood-- they may be more teens than "girls," or at least put on such airs.
Overall, the whole girls "know health." This is key-- it seems the speaker does not know health. She is not just sick now, but has been for a long time. So long, she does not remember how health feels anymore, if she ever did.
The whole girls use their health to their advantage. They "skim the cream," taking only the nicest parts of everything, the parts that rise to the top. They go to the best schools, the best parties, the best vacation locales, and they likely seize the best boys.
Moreover, the "fill the brim" and "feel no lack." Their cups, in short, runneth over.
Their social access allows them to have so much gossip they overflow with that, as well; they "drip with news."
The next line may be a pun. They "spin intact," so they may do spins as part of dances or figure skating and not feel dizzy afterward. But Vega's phrasing, with a pause between "in" and "tact," may be more than a nod to the three-syllable structure of the piece. They may "spin"-- as in what "spin doctors" do-- the news they drip with. But they do so with "tact" and charm learned from all the social interaction their health has afforded them.
The whole girls, the speaker continues, "blaze and stun." This could be a reference to their beauty, as in "she's a stunning woman." But it can also be another reference to their viciousness; they may stun as in "stun gun." These are the same young women who can speak with "tact" one minute and "hurl down words" in another. It is not too much of a stretch to assume they can sling an insult at someone so underhandedly their target doesn't even know she's been attacked at first.
Overall, these girls are truly whole. They are sound in mind and body, they have access to the "cream" of what life has to offer, and in everything, they "feel no lack."
We learn four more things about them. One is that that they "breathe with ease." Perhaps this is a clue to what is less than whole about our speaker. She may have a pulmonary disease, or simply asthma. Alternately, she may have a social disorder that prevents her from "breathing easily" when around other people, as with agoraphobia or general anxiety disorder.
The whole girls, however, "need no mercy." The character of Henrick, from Sondheim's A Little Night Music, expresses well what being on the receiving end of compassion can feel like: "It's intolerable, being tolerated." If everyone is saying "poor you," you start to internalize the idea that, yes, you are pitiful.
The whole girls can get out in the sunshine. They can get up and turn on a lamp whenever they please. And so they "move in light" in a way others cannot, who must either live with the darkness or beg the "mercy" of others to flip the switch.
Lastly, the whole girls "run in grace." This could be another way of saying they are graceful, that they can be ballerinas and gymnasts while the not-whole girls can't.
But it could also mean something much sadder. It could mean that they run in Grace, as in the favor of God. And how unfair, that such ungrateful creatures could not only take their health for granted, but use it to lord over others, teasing and excluding them, as if health were a right and not a privilege.
Meanwhile, how might a disabled person feel? Made to suffer, for no reason, by an arbitrary or even malicious Deity? How must it feel to suffer, and beyond that, feel one deserved this suffering? And if they did not deserve it, and God made them, why did He make them this way? Adding religion to the equation could bring in entirely new series of questions, pains, and doubts.
Vega imagines the way a disabled teen might look at her abled peers. Vega urges the listener to take a closer look at those less than whole girls, and boys, and try to make them feel more whole, and more a part of the whole.
Next Song: Room off the Street
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