This song is from Suzanne Vega's one-person show about the author Carson McCullers. It's a retelling of the plot from her story "The Ballad of the Sad Cafe."
The basic plot is about a woman, Amelia, who marries the wrong man. He almost ruins her life, but she chases him off (with violence). For a while, she is happy with a new man. But then the first one comes back to finish the job (with violence). What made it worse was that the new man helps him.
Framing this story, Vega expresses that his is a very Southern story: "On any Southern afternoon... a face appears inside a house." The face is described as being "terrible... sexless... white... and dim."
It's the face of Amelia, "waiting by the window... sitting by the shutter/ Remembering the laughing/ In he cafe down below."
It makes sense that her face would bear a "terrible" look, if she is remembering the brief good times with the second man. After all, was it all a lie, if he could turn on her with so little provocation, and to aid the man who wanted to hurt her at that?
Why exactly this story is so Southern, I am not sure. It does smack of Tennessee Williams.
Maybe the humidity makes everything sultry and torrid.
Next Song: Carson's Last Supper
Showing posts with label violence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label violence. Show all posts
Monday, February 13, 2017
Monday, December 12, 2016
Laying on of Hands/ Stoic 2
The "laying on of hands" is the idea that touch, all by itself, has healing properties. It is often used in religious contexts.
Mother Theresa was a Nobel Prize-winning nun who dedicated her life to treating and healing the poorest of the poor in India's slums; her name is fairly synonymous with altruism.
The speaker wonders how someone so in tune with the power of touch was never curious about more... intimate touches, from which a nun by definition abstains. Most of us cannot help but heed "Love's demands," and the body's "earthly commands."
The speaker then addresses the listener: "Touch is a language," she says, and it's true. Touch can convey everything from "brutality" to "tenderness."
Well, if that's the case, "What is it you have to say to me?/ Come and talk about it." Now, of course, if "touch is a language," and the language we will be "speaking," then the "conversation" could become very personal indeed.
In fact, "our bodies are exchanged in all eternity," which sounds like re-incarnation, in which case the same soul would necessarily touch multiple bodies through the eons.
Getting back to the idea of touch being equally capable of wounding or caressing, we must ask ourselves, "In this wilderness, do we hurt or heal within our daily plans?" It's a constant choice.
The ancient Roman named Epicetus was no Mother Theresa. He was a Stoic, like the emotionless person in the previous song. The speaker opines that he was probably sexless, "slept with his hands above the covers" (and away from his "private parts").
Since he, like Theresa, was celibate, he also had no "ex-lovers" to lose sleep over. However, she did not deny herself human contact altogether.
So we have three levels of "touchers," then: those like Epicetus who don't touch anyone else at all, those like Theresa who touches others to help them but not to receive any benefit herself...
And most of us, who like to touch others and to be touched in return, in nonverbal conversation. The speaker's conclusion? Such non-touching "virtue is overrated."
She much prefers "happiness." And happiness, as Charlie Brown, taught us, is a "warm puppy." And, well, other kinds of hugs.
While this is a short song, it says a great deal about our underappreciated sense of touch. Songs often explore the sensual aspect of touch, but ignore the simple relief that being warmly touched by another person can bring. This one manages to encompass both.
Next Song: Horizon (There Is a Road)
Mother Theresa was a Nobel Prize-winning nun who dedicated her life to treating and healing the poorest of the poor in India's slums; her name is fairly synonymous with altruism.
The speaker wonders how someone so in tune with the power of touch was never curious about more... intimate touches, from which a nun by definition abstains. Most of us cannot help but heed "Love's demands," and the body's "earthly commands."
The speaker then addresses the listener: "Touch is a language," she says, and it's true. Touch can convey everything from "brutality" to "tenderness."
Well, if that's the case, "What is it you have to say to me?/ Come and talk about it." Now, of course, if "touch is a language," and the language we will be "speaking," then the "conversation" could become very personal indeed.
In fact, "our bodies are exchanged in all eternity," which sounds like re-incarnation, in which case the same soul would necessarily touch multiple bodies through the eons.
Getting back to the idea of touch being equally capable of wounding or caressing, we must ask ourselves, "In this wilderness, do we hurt or heal within our daily plans?" It's a constant choice.
The ancient Roman named Epicetus was no Mother Theresa. He was a Stoic, like the emotionless person in the previous song. The speaker opines that he was probably sexless, "slept with his hands above the covers" (and away from his "private parts").
Since he, like Theresa, was celibate, he also had no "ex-lovers" to lose sleep over. However, she did not deny herself human contact altogether.
So we have three levels of "touchers," then: those like Epicetus who don't touch anyone else at all, those like Theresa who touches others to help them but not to receive any benefit herself...
And most of us, who like to touch others and to be touched in return, in nonverbal conversation. The speaker's conclusion? Such non-touching "virtue is overrated."
She much prefers "happiness." And happiness, as Charlie Brown, taught us, is a "warm puppy." And, well, other kinds of hugs.
While this is a short song, it says a great deal about our underappreciated sense of touch. Songs often explore the sensual aspect of touch, but ignore the simple relief that being warmly touched by another person can bring. This one manages to encompass both.
Next Song: Horizon (There Is a Road)
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Brother Mine
Vega considers this the first song she ever wrote, at 14. It's a country song, dedicated to her kid brother, Matthew. But it wasn't released until her Close Up 4 album.
While it's about being a big sister, the tone is fairly maternal; she even leads off by calling him "Sonny boy." She notices that needs new shoes, and also "just about everything," so she plans a shopping trip.
Perhaps she saw his beat-up shoes by the door first, then his face once she got further inside the house. Because most people would first notice his black eye that isn't mentioned until the second verse.
Yes, his eye is "black and swollen," because he got into "another fight." She calls him a "troublemaker," and irresponsible for needing medical attention when they "don't have much money."
She seems to back off a bit-- "Maybe I shouldn't yell/ I know you're just a kid." But really, it's only her tone she is apologizing for, not her message. She is, in fact, in earnest: "I don't expect you to get everything just right/ But I think you ought to use a little more sense."
She admits that she tends to "worry too much," and that she should accept that "what [he's] got to do, [he'll] go ahead and do it."
Until now, she has ended every statement with "I know everything will be all right," or "I think everything will be all right." After she tells him to use more sense, she says, "Maybe then things will be all right." So they will be... and now are not. And, it's his, or at least his impulsiveness', fault.
But now the she realizes that she can't be there to police him at all times, this is going to keep happening. And she lets slip a note of doubt: "I sure hope things will be all right." Maybe her intuition is smarter than her optimism..?
Well, right now, it's bedtime, so all she wants is to kiss him goodnight. So she tucks him in...
...with a not-quite-comforting observation: "I know if you were gone, I'd miss the sound of laughter." Wait, she's 14 and he's her kid brother, so even younger. What makes her think he's "going" anywhere, and somewhere she'd "miss" him? He's certainly going to be coming home every evening for the foreseeable future, right, and not off to college or the army or an overseas business trip. Or does she think his impulsiveness is going to get him, well, killed?
If she is that worried about him getting into "trouble" he can't get out of, she needs to tuck him in, then go have a conversation with her parents about him.
Next Song: The Silver Lady
While it's about being a big sister, the tone is fairly maternal; she even leads off by calling him "Sonny boy." She notices that needs new shoes, and also "just about everything," so she plans a shopping trip.
Perhaps she saw his beat-up shoes by the door first, then his face once she got further inside the house. Because most people would first notice his black eye that isn't mentioned until the second verse.
Yes, his eye is "black and swollen," because he got into "another fight." She calls him a "troublemaker," and irresponsible for needing medical attention when they "don't have much money."
She seems to back off a bit-- "Maybe I shouldn't yell/ I know you're just a kid." But really, it's only her tone she is apologizing for, not her message. She is, in fact, in earnest: "I don't expect you to get everything just right/ But I think you ought to use a little more sense."
She admits that she tends to "worry too much," and that she should accept that "what [he's] got to do, [he'll] go ahead and do it."
Until now, she has ended every statement with "I know everything will be all right," or "I think everything will be all right." After she tells him to use more sense, she says, "Maybe then things will be all right." So they will be... and now are not. And, it's his, or at least his impulsiveness', fault.
But now the she realizes that she can't be there to police him at all times, this is going to keep happening. And she lets slip a note of doubt: "I sure hope things will be all right." Maybe her intuition is smarter than her optimism..?
Well, right now, it's bedtime, so all she wants is to kiss him goodnight. So she tucks him in...
...with a not-quite-comforting observation: "I know if you were gone, I'd miss the sound of laughter." Wait, she's 14 and he's her kid brother, so even younger. What makes her think he's "going" anywhere, and somewhere she'd "miss" him? He's certainly going to be coming home every evening for the foreseeable future, right, and not off to college or the army or an overseas business trip. Or does she think his impulsiveness is going to get him, well, killed?
If she is that worried about him getting into "trouble" he can't get out of, she needs to tuck him in, then go have a conversation with her parents about him.
Next Song: The Silver Lady
Monday, September 19, 2016
Instant of the Hour After
This is a rare track. It can be found on Volume 3 of the mostly acoustic "Close Up" series of remixes.
It seems to be about a drunk couple fighting, and she is trying to wind it down so they can sleep: "That's enough out of you tonight, my darling... I detest all this drunken brawling/ Now, let's see if you can make it into this bed." Probably, though, he can: "You're not as drunk as you seem."
Still, they are "trapped here inside of this bottle." Both of them are trapped by the alcoholism, although it's unclear if she is also an alcoholic or 'only' someone who qualifies for Al-Anon.
As for the fight itself, it must have been quite the circus, but now, "The show is over/ The monkey is dead."
She is of two minds about her significant other: "How I love you/ How I loathe you." To the degree she does love him, it comes in waves so peaked that they become spikes: "It's a sharp, quick love."
Something casts a "sweet shadow" on his "cheek." Perhaps he did make it into bed, and these are the blankets she tenderly draws up over him. And he doesn't seem to calm down and ease into sleep, but rather simply 'conk out' suddenly from a state of stress: "The pulse in your neck, how I'll know it, right to the end."
Alternately, these images could be of love-making. The "sharp, quick love" could be him entering her, the "sweet shadow" could be of her face on his, and the "end" could be his climax.
This seems less likely, however, considering his words, which sound like those of a literary critic: "Reverberating acuity... lousy simile... vacant majesty." These sound like the ramblings of a drunk intellectual as he drifts off. And one who didn't like what he'd just read or heard, at that.
Of course, they could have made love and then he passed out muttering.
Yet another possibility is that the song is about her critics, and she is only using the relationship image as a metaphor.
The next "hour" passes like an "instant." And in that moment, she realizes "Right now/ It's you and me."
This is where the image being trapped in a bottle of liquid comes in. Of course, they'd have to be small to be trapped in a bottle, so she imagines them as "flies" who are "drowning" in the liquid.
"When the frenzy's over"-- the fighting, the sex, or both-- "We're crawling specimens/ Spent and exhausted/ We press to the sides" of the "bottle."
She knows she has to do something about the situation. But the situation itself is simply too exhausting, physically and emotionally, for her to plan and enact such an escape.
A nearly drowned fly may know it has to leave the bottle in order to prevent himself from nearly drowning again, but right now he's too drained from just having nearly drowned to figure out where the bottle's opening is and how to get there.
Next Song: Daddy is White
It seems to be about a drunk couple fighting, and she is trying to wind it down so they can sleep: "That's enough out of you tonight, my darling... I detest all this drunken brawling/ Now, let's see if you can make it into this bed." Probably, though, he can: "You're not as drunk as you seem."
Still, they are "trapped here inside of this bottle." Both of them are trapped by the alcoholism, although it's unclear if she is also an alcoholic or 'only' someone who qualifies for Al-Anon.
As for the fight itself, it must have been quite the circus, but now, "The show is over/ The monkey is dead."
She is of two minds about her significant other: "How I love you/ How I loathe you." To the degree she does love him, it comes in waves so peaked that they become spikes: "It's a sharp, quick love."
Something casts a "sweet shadow" on his "cheek." Perhaps he did make it into bed, and these are the blankets she tenderly draws up over him. And he doesn't seem to calm down and ease into sleep, but rather simply 'conk out' suddenly from a state of stress: "The pulse in your neck, how I'll know it, right to the end."
Alternately, these images could be of love-making. The "sharp, quick love" could be him entering her, the "sweet shadow" could be of her face on his, and the "end" could be his climax.
This seems less likely, however, considering his words, which sound like those of a literary critic: "Reverberating acuity... lousy simile... vacant majesty." These sound like the ramblings of a drunk intellectual as he drifts off. And one who didn't like what he'd just read or heard, at that.
Of course, they could have made love and then he passed out muttering.
Yet another possibility is that the song is about her critics, and she is only using the relationship image as a metaphor.
The next "hour" passes like an "instant." And in that moment, she realizes "Right now/ It's you and me."
This is where the image being trapped in a bottle of liquid comes in. Of course, they'd have to be small to be trapped in a bottle, so she imagines them as "flies" who are "drowning" in the liquid.
"When the frenzy's over"-- the fighting, the sex, or both-- "We're crawling specimens/ Spent and exhausted/ We press to the sides" of the "bottle."
She knows she has to do something about the situation. But the situation itself is simply too exhausting, physically and emotionally, for her to plan and enact such an escape.
A nearly drowned fly may know it has to leave the bottle in order to prevent himself from nearly drowning again, but right now he's too drained from just having nearly drowned to figure out where the bottle's opening is and how to get there.
Next Song: Daddy is White
Monday, August 1, 2016
Frank and Ava
Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner had a brief, tempestuous marriage. It only lasted 5-6, years but was filled with passion-- both the good and bad kinds. Whole books have been written about it, since their affairs and external friendships involved many other celebrities, as well as colorful characters like big-game hunters, starlets, and matadors. It involved, indeed, everything from drunken scenes to slashed wrists.
The song, however, makes no reference to any specific couple, as their last names are not given. So this is about that famous couple... but only as a metaphor for all such high-emotional, disastrous relationships (Vega herself had recently been divorced; she mentions "you and me" toward the end.).
Vega lays the blame for the failed relationship at both their feet. Ava could be imperious and act the "queen." Frank's love could be overwhelming, but explosive; his heart was a "tinderbox," and "the fire of his desire meant/ That everything must come undone."
Conclusion? "It's not enough, to be in love." The love must be between two compatible people, ones with the emotional maturity, stability, and stamina to maintain that love, through the natural ebbs and flows of time. Expecting first-kiss fireworks all the time is unrealistic and leads to shattered expectations.
Her aloofness didn't help. While he's hot for her, "she's cool." Which "makes him cruel." So they "needle" each other until "the jewels go raining down upon the ground." Either some jewelry box was knocked over, or someone was hit or shaken hard enough to make their jewelry fall off.
Eventually, the bad was acknowledged to outweigh the good, and they divorced: "They woke up, and they broke up."
While they were busy making each other miserable and being "volatile," of course, they wasted the time they could have spent on others: "Life passed, it went so fast."
Although it was doomed, it was a tragedy. Surely the public longed for two such attractive and talented people to find happiness together amidst the glamour of Hollywood. And while they were fire and ice, they were still attracted to each other: "They never could forget their chemistry."
So, more like oil and water, as it "proved go keep them both apart for life."
It's not enough to be in love. You have to find the right person, at the right time. And "indoor fireworks," as Elvis Costello put it, "can still burn your fingers." So while passion is important and should definitely be a part of any healthy relationship, it can't be the only part.
"Love does not consist in gazing at each other," noted The Little Prince author Antoine de Saint-Exupery, "but in looking outward together in the same direction." It also does not consist in gazing at the other person and hoping to find a reflection of yourself, or seeking a source of the fulfillment of all your needs.
It doesn't consist of looking at yourself, either. Even if you are as good-looking as a movie star.
Next Song: Edith Wharton's Figurines
The song, however, makes no reference to any specific couple, as their last names are not given. So this is about that famous couple... but only as a metaphor for all such high-emotional, disastrous relationships (Vega herself had recently been divorced; she mentions "you and me" toward the end.).
Vega lays the blame for the failed relationship at both their feet. Ava could be imperious and act the "queen." Frank's love could be overwhelming, but explosive; his heart was a "tinderbox," and "the fire of his desire meant/ That everything must come undone."
Conclusion? "It's not enough, to be in love." The love must be between two compatible people, ones with the emotional maturity, stability, and stamina to maintain that love, through the natural ebbs and flows of time. Expecting first-kiss fireworks all the time is unrealistic and leads to shattered expectations.
Her aloofness didn't help. While he's hot for her, "she's cool." Which "makes him cruel." So they "needle" each other until "the jewels go raining down upon the ground." Either some jewelry box was knocked over, or someone was hit or shaken hard enough to make their jewelry fall off.
Eventually, the bad was acknowledged to outweigh the good, and they divorced: "They woke up, and they broke up."
While they were busy making each other miserable and being "volatile," of course, they wasted the time they could have spent on others: "Life passed, it went so fast."
Although it was doomed, it was a tragedy. Surely the public longed for two such attractive and talented people to find happiness together amidst the glamour of Hollywood. And while they were fire and ice, they were still attracted to each other: "They never could forget their chemistry."
So, more like oil and water, as it "proved go keep them both apart for life."
It's not enough to be in love. You have to find the right person, at the right time. And "indoor fireworks," as Elvis Costello put it, "can still burn your fingers." So while passion is important and should definitely be a part of any healthy relationship, it can't be the only part.
"Love does not consist in gazing at each other," noted The Little Prince author Antoine de Saint-Exupery, "but in looking outward together in the same direction." It also does not consist in gazing at the other person and hoping to find a reflection of yourself, or seeking a source of the fulfillment of all your needs.
It doesn't consist of looking at yourself, either. Even if you are as good-looking as a movie star.
Next Song: Edith Wharton's Figurines
Monday, May 30, 2016
If I Were a Weapon
How far we have come since "If You Were in My Movie."
This is a couple that should be glad, at least, that they are breaking up.
He says that she reminds him of a "gun." In trying to unpack that, she guesses he means that she is "lethal at close range" with her words, and also capable of shutting down communications (she has a "silencer") and shocking people.
She feels, however, that she is a "needle." She's always "pulling on the thread," which could either mean that he is as annoying as a loose thread... or that when she pulls on the thread of one of his lies, it unravels endlessly into an unbroken string of falsehoods. Also, he doesn't listen; she is always "making the same point" and "wondering if [he] heard."
Meanwhile, what weapon does she think he is? A "hammer." He's very "blunt" in his honesty. He's "heavy at the end," which seems to mean that when he starts to say something hurtful, he never stops before finishing. And he is "coming down on [her]" with criticism and threats from on high.
She then admits that she has a secret weapon. She likens it to a "pocket knife" in that the blade is "concealed." This language implies that she knows a secret of his that can hurt him. She doesn't want to use it, but she will if she is backed into a corner. How do we know it's his? Once he "sees" it, he will want it "back." Perhaps it is an incriminating photograph or receipt.
She concludes that: "If I am that weapon/ I am pointing now at you." What has been a name-calling contest has now escalated to threats.
Why did it get to this point? This is not just a stand-off. He has a "hostage." Evidently, the divorce involves a custody battle, and he's winning.
If he forces her hand, she will ruin his reputation. But if he backs down on the custody issue, she is willing to continue to negotiate: "We'll talk this down until we see this through."
This is a couple that needs to no longer be a couple. It is good that they are separating. Does it hurt? Yes, but if they stay together, they will just keep causing each other more pain.
I may not be a marriage counselor, but if a couple's fights are about what kind of "weapon" the other person is, they probably they should no longer share a mailbox.
Next Song: Harbor Song
This is a couple that should be glad, at least, that they are breaking up.
He says that she reminds him of a "gun." In trying to unpack that, she guesses he means that she is "lethal at close range" with her words, and also capable of shutting down communications (she has a "silencer") and shocking people.
She feels, however, that she is a "needle." She's always "pulling on the thread," which could either mean that he is as annoying as a loose thread... or that when she pulls on the thread of one of his lies, it unravels endlessly into an unbroken string of falsehoods. Also, he doesn't listen; she is always "making the same point" and "wondering if [he] heard."
Meanwhile, what weapon does she think he is? A "hammer." He's very "blunt" in his honesty. He's "heavy at the end," which seems to mean that when he starts to say something hurtful, he never stops before finishing. And he is "coming down on [her]" with criticism and threats from on high.
She then admits that she has a secret weapon. She likens it to a "pocket knife" in that the blade is "concealed." This language implies that she knows a secret of his that can hurt him. She doesn't want to use it, but she will if she is backed into a corner. How do we know it's his? Once he "sees" it, he will want it "back." Perhaps it is an incriminating photograph or receipt.
She concludes that: "If I am that weapon/ I am pointing now at you." What has been a name-calling contest has now escalated to threats.
Why did it get to this point? This is not just a stand-off. He has a "hostage." Evidently, the divorce involves a custody battle, and he's winning.
If he forces her hand, she will ruin his reputation. But if he backs down on the custody issue, she is willing to continue to negotiate: "We'll talk this down until we see this through."
This is a couple that needs to no longer be a couple. It is good that they are separating. Does it hurt? Yes, but if they stay together, they will just keep causing each other more pain.
I may not be a marriage counselor, but if a couple's fights are about what kind of "weapon" the other person is, they probably they should no longer share a mailbox.
Next Song: Harbor Song
Monday, May 16, 2016
Last Year's Troubles
This song doesn't seem to need much explanation. Vega contrasts the romanticized way poverty and crime are depicted in Dickens novels (and the movie versions thereof), old ballads, operas, and other entertainments with the poverty and crime of our day, which we see for ourselves and in our news.
"Maybe it's the clothing," she says, "the earrings, the swashbuckling blouses," and the "petticoats." Even their "rags are so very Victorian."
Criminals used to be daring, robbing people on the highway or at sea. Today, a "pirate" is someone who illegally downloads a movie-- hardly a role Erroll Flynn could sink a cutlass into.
Overall, those old problems "shine up so prettily" and "gleam with a luster they don't have today."
Meanwhile, today's homeless "just don't give it their best," she smirks sadly. Also, there seems to be a difference in place as well as time. The above comment is about "the ones here at home." "Here," she repeats, meaning America, "it's just dirty and violent and troubling."
Is there more or less "trouble" now or "last year"? "It would be the same, would be my guess," she concludes.
Which is worse, the threat of debtor's prison for bankruptcy and being hanged for pickpocketing... or the fear of being shot for your sneakers or having to live near a drug den? "Trouble is still trouble," she decides. As for crime, "evil is still evil."
So why are last year's troubles romanticized?
Because everything eventually is. Time softens all tragedy. Conquerors like Genghis Khan and Attila the Hun were played for laughs in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure and Night at the Museum.
Even Hitler is has been a sitcom character already (it was called Heil, Honey, I'm Home, and thankfully it was quickly cancelled. But this year, Netflix launched one called Look Who's Back). And anyone strict about anything-- from grammar to soup-- is called a "Nazi."
Meanwhile, the heroes are played with, too. There is a movie called Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter, and a new photo app can put your face on Benjamin Franklin's head.
We romanticize the past. Already, the 1980s victims of AIDS are compared, in the musical Rent, to the Bohemians of La Boheme, which was set in the 1840s. Rap somewhat romanticizes today's urban poverty.
We gave an Oscar and Tonys to a singing Oliver Twist years ago... and this year a rapping Alexander Hamilton looks to sweep the Tonys.
Someday, people will look at today's leaders with the same bemusement. Lord only knows what they will have Barack Obama sing on Broadway in 100 years.
Next Song: Priscilla
"Maybe it's the clothing," she says, "the earrings, the swashbuckling blouses," and the "petticoats." Even their "rags are so very Victorian."
Criminals used to be daring, robbing people on the highway or at sea. Today, a "pirate" is someone who illegally downloads a movie-- hardly a role Erroll Flynn could sink a cutlass into.
Overall, those old problems "shine up so prettily" and "gleam with a luster they don't have today."
Meanwhile, today's homeless "just don't give it their best," she smirks sadly. Also, there seems to be a difference in place as well as time. The above comment is about "the ones here at home." "Here," she repeats, meaning America, "it's just dirty and violent and troubling."
Is there more or less "trouble" now or "last year"? "It would be the same, would be my guess," she concludes.
Which is worse, the threat of debtor's prison for bankruptcy and being hanged for pickpocketing... or the fear of being shot for your sneakers or having to live near a drug den? "Trouble is still trouble," she decides. As for crime, "evil is still evil."
So why are last year's troubles romanticized?
Because everything eventually is. Time softens all tragedy. Conquerors like Genghis Khan and Attila the Hun were played for laughs in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure and Night at the Museum.
Even Hitler is has been a sitcom character already (it was called Heil, Honey, I'm Home, and thankfully it was quickly cancelled. But this year, Netflix launched one called Look Who's Back). And anyone strict about anything-- from grammar to soup-- is called a "Nazi."
Meanwhile, the heroes are played with, too. There is a movie called Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter, and a new photo app can put your face on Benjamin Franklin's head.
We romanticize the past. Already, the 1980s victims of AIDS are compared, in the musical Rent, to the Bohemians of La Boheme, which was set in the 1840s. Rap somewhat romanticizes today's urban poverty.
We gave an Oscar and Tonys to a singing Oliver Twist years ago... and this year a rapping Alexander Hamilton looks to sweep the Tonys.
Someday, people will look at today's leaders with the same bemusement. Lord only knows what they will have Barack Obama sing on Broadway in 100 years.
Next Song: Priscilla
Monday, October 12, 2015
Blood Sings
We've all seen images of children running to greet their parents, especially ones returning from a long absence, say from an overseas combat zone. Many of us have seen or even experienced reunions among family members. There are even stories of family members who had thought each other dead finding each other again after decades. There are smiles and tears and long hugs.
Even in the Bible, Adam finds a resonance with Eve he does not find with any of the other creatures. "This, now, is bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh," he enthuses about her.
"When blood meets blood of its own/ It sings to see itself again," is how Vega puts it, in this song. Recognition is so powerful that it surges the blood and sends it singing through the arteries. "It sings to here the voice it's known/ It sings to recognize the face... I know these bones as being mine/ and the curving of the lip."
But the song is about more than the joy of self-recognition in a family member's face.
The lines "one body split and passed along the line/ From the shoulder to the hip" is enigmatic. If the body is "split... from the shoulder to the hip" does that mean some surgery has been done? If so, why the phrase "passed along the line"-- was this an organ donor?
It could be a metaphorical split. One member of the family could have been separated from the rest somehow. Perhaps the mother, being too young or financially insecure, gave her first child up for adoption, but he was unfortunate enough not to find a permanent home but was instead "passed along the line" from one foster family to another.
Even in the Bible, Adam finds a resonance with Eve he does not find with any of the other creatures. "This, now, is bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh," he enthuses about her.
"When blood meets blood of its own/ It sings to see itself again," is how Vega puts it, in this song. Recognition is so powerful that it surges the blood and sends it singing through the arteries. "It sings to here the voice it's known/ It sings to recognize the face... I know these bones as being mine/ and the curving of the lip."
But the song is about more than the joy of self-recognition in a family member's face.
The lines "one body split and passed along the line/ From the shoulder to the hip" is enigmatic. If the body is "split... from the shoulder to the hip" does that mean some surgery has been done? If so, why the phrase "passed along the line"-- was this an organ donor?
It could be a metaphorical split. One member of the family could have been separated from the rest somehow. Perhaps the mother, being too young or financially insecure, gave her first child up for adoption, but he was unfortunate enough not to find a permanent home but was instead "passed along the line" from one foster family to another.
And now this child has grown and become a teen; he would become legally independent at 18 but might need somewhere to go, since his foster family could not keep him. He contacts his biological mother, and she agrees to take him in. Now he is meeting his older siblings, who were raised by their biological mother, who was mature and stable enough when she had them to keep them.
His younger sister's first reaction is joy-- he looks just like them! Look at his features, his bone structure, his lips... even his voice! He really is a member of the family.
But then she really takes a look at her long-lost brother and asks, "How did this one life fall so far and fast?" Clearly, he has been through many miserable years.
She muses that some people are naturally gifted, others less so: "some with grace, and some without." He seems to be of the latter kind. But "all tell the story that repeats." Is that the story of the genetic code? Or of one that has occurred before, perhaps even in this selfsame family?
This story is "of a child who had been left alone at birth/ Left to fend [for himself]." Worse, "and taught to fight." He has had to defend himself, probably against bullies who taunted him for his foster status.
"See his eyes and how they start with light," she notices. In this case, "start" is a synonym for "startle." He is not used to light, perhaps being from kept in a dark room, say an attic.
He has pictures of his childhood, and as the sister rifles through them, she notices that his eyes "get colder" as he ages. It is a sad fact of the foster system that people are willing to take in babies and small children, and less so children as they age. Many, by age eight or so, end up in group homes.
Evidently, he warms to them enough to tell them his story, or perhaps his case worker fills them in, because "we've all come to know" what it was. "Did he carry his back luck upon his back?" she wonders, as he moved from house to house, but never going to a place that was truly "home."
There was a young woman who, hearing that many foster kids pack to move to their next home in garbage bags, began a national effort to collect luggage for them. If they do have to move, she felt, at least they don't feel like their belongings are garbage when they do
The verse about the joy of recognition now repeats. It seems like this wondering and worrying have subsided, and the happiness at the reunion itself has returned.
But we have to wonder, once she was able to have and care for her own children, why their mother did not go back and try to find the child she had to give up before. Perhaps she was too upset, or embarrassed, or frightened. Anyway, he is here now, so now the healing can begin.
Structural Note:
The rhyme scheme of the song is unusual too, in that it varies from verse to verse. In the first verse, the first and third lines rhyme: "own/known" (ABAC). In the second verse, the first and third lines rhyme: "line/mine." But so do the second and fourth "hip/lip." (so it's ABAB). In the third verse, the second and fourth lines (semi-)rhyme: "repeats/fight." In the last verse, the second and fourth lines rhyme: "go/know." These final two are ABCB. And then the first verse repeats.
This scheme hints at a shift in perspective. At first, the sister is seeing things through her own eyes, so the rhyme starts at the first line of the verse, as in first person (me). Then she starts to shift her viewpoint ("I wonder what he thinks of me?!" and can rhyme the second line (second person, you) line also; ("You must see me the same way I see you," she thinks of her brother. By the third verse, she has shifted her viewpoint entirely ("What must you have gone through?") and is only seeing his viewpoint. She stays there for the fourth verse. Then she, as she must, returns to her own.
This scheme hints at a shift in perspective. At first, the sister is seeing things through her own eyes, so the rhyme starts at the first line of the verse, as in first person (me). Then she starts to shift her viewpoint ("I wonder what he thinks of me?!" and can rhyme the second line (second person, you) line also; ("You must see me the same way I see you," she thinks of her brother. By the third verse, she has shifted her viewpoint entirely ("What must you have gone through?") and is only seeing his viewpoint. She stays there for the fourth verse. Then she, as she must, returns to her own.
Musical Note:
The song is mostly sung to a solo guitar with a bass line, hearkening back to Vega's earlier work. It stands apart from the other heavily produced, industrial work of the rest of album.
Next Song: Fat Man and Dancing Girl
Monday, April 27, 2015
Luka
This is, arguably, the song that put Suzanne Vega on the map.
It is a very powerful song, dealing with the issue of physical abuse, and from the point of view of the victim as well.
While some may feel this song is about a woman who had been beaten-- and the emotions and reactions presented certainly apply to such a victim-- the video makes it clear that the simple lyrics are coming from a child who has been attacked, and a male child at that.
But perhaps Vega chose the rare (in America) name "Luka" because it is indistinct in gender and origin, to universalize the song. (Probably the most famous "Luka" before this was the minor character in the Godfather film, the hitman Luca Brasi.)
The song begins with the victim introducing himself. It is important that we, the listeners, know that his apartment is above ours. Since we have heard the sounds of abuse coming through our ceiling, Luka feels it necessary to address them.
He does so by telling us to... not investigate. "If you hear something, late at night/ Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight/ Just don't ask me what it was."
Luka tries to explain away the bruises that we must see, or perhaps a limp: "I think it's 'cause I'm clumsy... I walked into the door again."
But, again, he waves away our offer of, perhaps, an ice pack or bandage. "Yes, I think I'm OK," he says. In fact, he dismisses our involvement altogether: "It's not your business, anyway."
Luka, however, does open up to us about the effect the abuse has had on him. For one, it has made him withdrawn: "I try not to talk too loud... I try not to act too proud." For another, it has made him feel that he has deserved and brought about the punishment-- and even doubt his own sanity: "Maybe it's because I'm crazy," he says, perhaps echoing and internalizing the verbal abuse that might have accompanied the physical pain.
Luka also reveals some of the dynamics of the abuse's patterns. At first, it seems, he resists and defends himself. This self-assertion only enrages his abusers-- he says "they," so it might be both of his parents. It is only once his spirit is broken and they have satisfied themselves that they maintain dominance that they cease the violence: "They only hit until you cry."
"After that, you don't ask why," Luka admits, and "you just don't argue" either. He realizes asking them to justify their actions is pointless. There is no "why," no reason. He doesn't deserve the abuse in the first place! And if crying makes the reason-less punishment stop, well then, here are your tears, folks-- you win again, you can stop now.
His ultimate wish is to withdraw completely. Luka is either being abused by his family-- with objects (or worse?) being "broken" and "thrown"-- or being asked to discuss the abuse by well-meaning outsiders. And so the abuse comes to define him. He is no longer "Luka, the kid who plays soccer," or "Luka, the kid who loves comic books." He is "Luka, the kid whose parents hit him." The only one who knows him any other way is himself. And so he tells us, "I'd like to be alone."
Then Luka is done talking. He has said all he can bear to say for now. But he also sets up the parameters for our next encounter. Now that we know all this, he says, "Just don't ask me how I am."
We now know very well how he is: utterly miserable.
IMPACT:
As was said, this was Vega's biggest chart success. It went to #3 in the US and remained on the charts for 19 weeks (almost 5 months). Vega also recorded the song in Spanish.
At the 1988 Grammys, Vega performed the song, which was nominated in three categories: Record of the Year (a producer's and performer's award), Song of the Year (a songwriter's award), and Best Female Pop Vocal Performance (as opposed to Classical). She did not win in any category, but she did get to perform before an audience of hundreds of millions.
But aside from the effect the song had on Vega's status and career, it gave voice to the millions of abuse victims who had suffered so long in silence. And it taught us how to recognize the signs of abuse.
While may songs are credited with changing lives, how many have actually saved lives?
Next song: Ironbound/Fancy Poultry
It is a very powerful song, dealing with the issue of physical abuse, and from the point of view of the victim as well.
While some may feel this song is about a woman who had been beaten-- and the emotions and reactions presented certainly apply to such a victim-- the video makes it clear that the simple lyrics are coming from a child who has been attacked, and a male child at that.
But perhaps Vega chose the rare (in America) name "Luka" because it is indistinct in gender and origin, to universalize the song. (Probably the most famous "Luka" before this was the minor character in the Godfather film, the hitman Luca Brasi.)
The song begins with the victim introducing himself. It is important that we, the listeners, know that his apartment is above ours. Since we have heard the sounds of abuse coming through our ceiling, Luka feels it necessary to address them.
He does so by telling us to... not investigate. "If you hear something, late at night/ Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight/ Just don't ask me what it was."
Luka tries to explain away the bruises that we must see, or perhaps a limp: "I think it's 'cause I'm clumsy... I walked into the door again."
But, again, he waves away our offer of, perhaps, an ice pack or bandage. "Yes, I think I'm OK," he says. In fact, he dismisses our involvement altogether: "It's not your business, anyway."
Luka, however, does open up to us about the effect the abuse has had on him. For one, it has made him withdrawn: "I try not to talk too loud... I try not to act too proud." For another, it has made him feel that he has deserved and brought about the punishment-- and even doubt his own sanity: "Maybe it's because I'm crazy," he says, perhaps echoing and internalizing the verbal abuse that might have accompanied the physical pain.
Luka also reveals some of the dynamics of the abuse's patterns. At first, it seems, he resists and defends himself. This self-assertion only enrages his abusers-- he says "they," so it might be both of his parents. It is only once his spirit is broken and they have satisfied themselves that they maintain dominance that they cease the violence: "They only hit until you cry."
"After that, you don't ask why," Luka admits, and "you just don't argue" either. He realizes asking them to justify their actions is pointless. There is no "why," no reason. He doesn't deserve the abuse in the first place! And if crying makes the reason-less punishment stop, well then, here are your tears, folks-- you win again, you can stop now.
His ultimate wish is to withdraw completely. Luka is either being abused by his family-- with objects (or worse?) being "broken" and "thrown"-- or being asked to discuss the abuse by well-meaning outsiders. And so the abuse comes to define him. He is no longer "Luka, the kid who plays soccer," or "Luka, the kid who loves comic books." He is "Luka, the kid whose parents hit him." The only one who knows him any other way is himself. And so he tells us, "I'd like to be alone."
Then Luka is done talking. He has said all he can bear to say for now. But he also sets up the parameters for our next encounter. Now that we know all this, he says, "Just don't ask me how I am."
We now know very well how he is: utterly miserable.
IMPACT:
As was said, this was Vega's biggest chart success. It went to #3 in the US and remained on the charts for 19 weeks (almost 5 months). Vega also recorded the song in Spanish.
At the 1988 Grammys, Vega performed the song, which was nominated in three categories: Record of the Year (a producer's and performer's award), Song of the Year (a songwriter's award), and Best Female Pop Vocal Performance (as opposed to Classical). She did not win in any category, but she did get to perform before an audience of hundreds of millions.
But aside from the effect the song had on Vega's status and career, it gave voice to the millions of abuse victims who had suffered so long in silence. And it taught us how to recognize the signs of abuse.
While may songs are credited with changing lives, how many have actually saved lives?
Next song: Ironbound/Fancy Poultry
Monday, March 9, 2015
Undertow
To explain the title: The "undertow" is the intense pull, or current, caused by a breaking wave as it recedes back into the sea. Its name comes from the fact that the force is along the sea bed, "under" the surface, and that it can "tow" an object, animal, or person back out to sea along with it, smothering it along the sea bed.
This is a surprisingly violent song. While it is about a relationship, it is not a love song, as it does not contain the word "love" or anything like it. Instead, there is only need... and the hatred of that need.
The speaker wants to "swallow" the songs' object-- "whole," the way a serpent does-- then disgorge "only bones and teeth." Later, we have sharp or pointed weapons like "the edge of a knife," "needles," and "bullets." We also have hard things, like a "stone," a "diamond," and another "bone."
Then there are signs of negative emotions: "tears," "secrets," "hunger," being "weak."
Even if all of these images are only metaphorical, what is the end of all of this hostility and angst? She wants him to be, of all things, "free."
The conflation of freedom with death is a longstanding one, the premise being that mortal life is a prison sentence, and only death can set one free. She has the idea that the body is some sort of cage, and that by removing it, the spirit will be released, at liberty.
Her current plan toward this objective is to... digest him. "We could see what was underneath/ And you would be free then."
Her previous plan was to use the salt of her tears to erode his flesh. "Once, I thought only tears could make us free/ Salt wearing down to the bone/ Like sand against the stone."
In other words, now she is using anger-- before, sadness.
Again, what is the reason for either of these plans for skeletonization? It seems that, if he is miserable enough, he won't have the wherewithal to leave her. He won't have the physical or emotional strength to resist her, and she can thereby possess him: "I am friend to the undertow," she says, using that imagery of grabbing, pulling, and drowning. "I take you in, I don't let go/ And now I have you."
She takes the idea of "possessiveness" to the extreme, as in the book and movie Misery.
She does not want this "freedom" only for him, however. She herself wants to be "sleek," to pass through life without attachments or friction. That's why she is fascinated with streamlined things-- things with edges, blades, and points. They can do damage without being damaged themselves. They can inflict pain, yet feel nothing, experience no pain themselves. She has clearly experienced pain in relationships before, and so tried to shed all connections.
In short, if she could be "sleek," she "would be free then." Which is what she wants.
But shedding all externalities has not produced the desired effect. Her emotional anorexia has failed to render her "sleek" as a python, polished pebble, or sword blade. Instead, "this hunger's/ Made [her] weak."
One mystery is resolved-- why she now resorts to imagery of consumption. She's psychologically hungry and wants to feed. She's eaten away at herself so much, she has nothing left, and so she turns to another, to feed off of him.
But she can barely admit that she needs someone else. So instead of saying, "I need him here to satisfy me," she sees herself as altruistic! "He needs me here to satisfy him!" she thinks. "I will do him the favor of stripping him 'down to the bone,' too, and 'free' him as I have freed myself."
Naturally, if the man wants to be "free," what he should really be is... elsewhere. If he has enough strength, still, to make it to shore.
Next Song: Some Journey
This is a surprisingly violent song. While it is about a relationship, it is not a love song, as it does not contain the word "love" or anything like it. Instead, there is only need... and the hatred of that need.
The speaker wants to "swallow" the songs' object-- "whole," the way a serpent does-- then disgorge "only bones and teeth." Later, we have sharp or pointed weapons like "the edge of a knife," "needles," and "bullets." We also have hard things, like a "stone," a "diamond," and another "bone."
Then there are signs of negative emotions: "tears," "secrets," "hunger," being "weak."
Even if all of these images are only metaphorical, what is the end of all of this hostility and angst? She wants him to be, of all things, "free."
The conflation of freedom with death is a longstanding one, the premise being that mortal life is a prison sentence, and only death can set one free. She has the idea that the body is some sort of cage, and that by removing it, the spirit will be released, at liberty.
Her current plan toward this objective is to... digest him. "We could see what was underneath/ And you would be free then."
Her previous plan was to use the salt of her tears to erode his flesh. "Once, I thought only tears could make us free/ Salt wearing down to the bone/ Like sand against the stone."
In other words, now she is using anger-- before, sadness.
Again, what is the reason for either of these plans for skeletonization? It seems that, if he is miserable enough, he won't have the wherewithal to leave her. He won't have the physical or emotional strength to resist her, and she can thereby possess him: "I am friend to the undertow," she says, using that imagery of grabbing, pulling, and drowning. "I take you in, I don't let go/ And now I have you."
She takes the idea of "possessiveness" to the extreme, as in the book and movie Misery.
She does not want this "freedom" only for him, however. She herself wants to be "sleek," to pass through life without attachments or friction. That's why she is fascinated with streamlined things-- things with edges, blades, and points. They can do damage without being damaged themselves. They can inflict pain, yet feel nothing, experience no pain themselves. She has clearly experienced pain in relationships before, and so tried to shed all connections.
In short, if she could be "sleek," she "would be free then." Which is what she wants.
But shedding all externalities has not produced the desired effect. Her emotional anorexia has failed to render her "sleek" as a python, polished pebble, or sword blade. Instead, "this hunger's/ Made [her] weak."
One mystery is resolved-- why she now resorts to imagery of consumption. She's psychologically hungry and wants to feed. She's eaten away at herself so much, she has nothing left, and so she turns to another, to feed off of him.
But she can barely admit that she needs someone else. So instead of saying, "I need him here to satisfy me," she sees herself as altruistic! "He needs me here to satisfy him!" she thinks. "I will do him the favor of stripping him 'down to the bone,' too, and 'free' him as I have freed myself."
Naturally, if the man wants to be "free," what he should really be is... elsewhere. If he has enough strength, still, to make it to shore.
Next Song: Some Journey
Monday, February 16, 2015
Marlene on the Wall
This is a song about a woman in an abusive relationship. We see that the man is physically violent, and there is undoubtedly emotional damage being done here as well.
"Even if I am in love with you... what's it to you?" she asks. OK, so she loves him, but why does he have to react this way if he doesn't love her back anyway?
There is "blood," and a bruise. This is the "tattoo"-- a mark on the skin-- of a "rose" color she speaks of, made by his grip: "on me, from you."
Then she speaks like a lawyer or police officer (a crime has been committed, after all) and says, "Observe... the fingerprints" and "Other evidence has shown," that, even though they are in a relationship, they are each fundamentally "still alone."
Further, they wisely agree not to discuss the situation in the heat of the moment, saying they will talk about it later... only they "don't talk about it later." Instead, they practice denial and avoidance, and "skirt around the danger zone."
There is a witness of a sort to this crime: a poster of Marlene Dietrich (referred to in the previous song, "Freeze Tag": "I will be Dietrich and you will be Dean"). She was a German performer, a singer and actress out of the cabaret heyday in WWII, who parlayed her sex appeal and husky voice into a series of film roles, usually as a femme fatale. Often, as in her breakout role in The Blue Angel, her character was seductive, but destructive, and sometimes so powerful a presence that she dressed in masculine clothing to emphasize her strength.
Dietrich appeared in everything from Westerns (lampooned by Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles) to war movies. She also performed for the troops in USO appearances; either those or the characters in the war movies could be the "soldiers" spoken of here.
In this song, Dietrich gazes imperiously on the proceedings from her movie poster, "her mocking smile" showing her disdain for the speaker allowing herself to be thus manhandled. In her roles, Dietrich usually handled the man, and without resorting to physical violence at that.
However, the speaker resents this judgementalism. First, while she is under attack, she is not supported by a battalion, but is alone: "The only solider now is me." Further, she is "fighting things [she] cannot see." Yes, she sees her attacker, but is also fighting her own feelings for and about him (see the first line).
On top of all this, she feels she is "changing," but for good or ill? Is she changing into a compliant, complaisant victim? Or is she changing into someone who might fight back, or at least leave? In any case, she does not feel in control of these changes, but that they are her "destiny."
At this point, the speaker is still in the relationship. The present tense of the statement "I walk to your house in the afternoon" makes this sound like a daily, and current, occurrence. The house is "by the butcher shop," which is ominous in its imagery (and also foreshadows the song "Fancy Poultry").
On her walk, she imagines Dietrich's advice would be to play hard to get: "Don't give away the goods too soon."
But something about the danger of the situation is part of the attraction. "I tried so hard to resist" his grip, she says, but she goes to his house every day to begin with! Wouldn't the first step in resisting be to... not go? She even-- as he is gripping her and literally bending her to his will-- calls his fist "handsome." (The phrases "rose tattoo" and "handsome fist" are part of the proof of Vega's sublime songcraft, even at this early stage of hers).
Whether verbally or through this action, the man "reminded [her] of the night [they] kissed." Evidently, the abuse was part of the relationship from the outset, and may have even been its catalyst altogether.
The man's words or actions also remind her "of why [she] should be leaving." This is the best news we have had so far. Maybe Dietrich's scorn, not some cloying social-work understanding, is the right therapy for this person in this situation.
After several choruses in which Dietrich records the passing by of soldiers, she now simply "records the rise and fall of every man who's been here." Perhaps this is not the speaker's first abusive relationship.
"But the only one here now is me," the speaker concludes. She cannot rely on anyone else, but must rise to her own protection and be her own savior. In this chorus, Vega has the speaker repeat the word "changing" multiple times, growing louder, to emphasize the intensity and acceleration of this changing.
We leave the speaker still in the grip of his man, and this relationship. But with Marlene Dietrich's wry, knowing grin as her goad, perhaps she will break free of him-- and of this cycle of abusive men-- someday. Even if she is "in love with" him, maybe she loves herself more.
Next Song: Small Blue Thing
"Even if I am in love with you... what's it to you?" she asks. OK, so she loves him, but why does he have to react this way if he doesn't love her back anyway?
There is "blood," and a bruise. This is the "tattoo"-- a mark on the skin-- of a "rose" color she speaks of, made by his grip: "on me, from you."
Then she speaks like a lawyer or police officer (a crime has been committed, after all) and says, "Observe... the fingerprints" and "Other evidence has shown," that, even though they are in a relationship, they are each fundamentally "still alone."
Further, they wisely agree not to discuss the situation in the heat of the moment, saying they will talk about it later... only they "don't talk about it later." Instead, they practice denial and avoidance, and "skirt around the danger zone."
There is a witness of a sort to this crime: a poster of Marlene Dietrich (referred to in the previous song, "Freeze Tag": "I will be Dietrich and you will be Dean"). She was a German performer, a singer and actress out of the cabaret heyday in WWII, who parlayed her sex appeal and husky voice into a series of film roles, usually as a femme fatale. Often, as in her breakout role in The Blue Angel, her character was seductive, but destructive, and sometimes so powerful a presence that she dressed in masculine clothing to emphasize her strength.
Dietrich appeared in everything from Westerns (lampooned by Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles) to war movies. She also performed for the troops in USO appearances; either those or the characters in the war movies could be the "soldiers" spoken of here.
In this song, Dietrich gazes imperiously on the proceedings from her movie poster, "her mocking smile" showing her disdain for the speaker allowing herself to be thus manhandled. In her roles, Dietrich usually handled the man, and without resorting to physical violence at that.
However, the speaker resents this judgementalism. First, while she is under attack, she is not supported by a battalion, but is alone: "The only solider now is me." Further, she is "fighting things [she] cannot see." Yes, she sees her attacker, but is also fighting her own feelings for and about him (see the first line).
On top of all this, she feels she is "changing," but for good or ill? Is she changing into a compliant, complaisant victim? Or is she changing into someone who might fight back, or at least leave? In any case, she does not feel in control of these changes, but that they are her "destiny."
At this point, the speaker is still in the relationship. The present tense of the statement "I walk to your house in the afternoon" makes this sound like a daily, and current, occurrence. The house is "by the butcher shop," which is ominous in its imagery (and also foreshadows the song "Fancy Poultry").
On her walk, she imagines Dietrich's advice would be to play hard to get: "Don't give away the goods too soon."
But something about the danger of the situation is part of the attraction. "I tried so hard to resist" his grip, she says, but she goes to his house every day to begin with! Wouldn't the first step in resisting be to... not go? She even-- as he is gripping her and literally bending her to his will-- calls his fist "handsome." (The phrases "rose tattoo" and "handsome fist" are part of the proof of Vega's sublime songcraft, even at this early stage of hers).
Whether verbally or through this action, the man "reminded [her] of the night [they] kissed." Evidently, the abuse was part of the relationship from the outset, and may have even been its catalyst altogether.
The man's words or actions also remind her "of why [she] should be leaving." This is the best news we have had so far. Maybe Dietrich's scorn, not some cloying social-work understanding, is the right therapy for this person in this situation.
After several choruses in which Dietrich records the passing by of soldiers, she now simply "records the rise and fall of every man who's been here." Perhaps this is not the speaker's first abusive relationship.
"But the only one here now is me," the speaker concludes. She cannot rely on anyone else, but must rise to her own protection and be her own savior. In this chorus, Vega has the speaker repeat the word "changing" multiple times, growing louder, to emphasize the intensity and acceleration of this changing.
We leave the speaker still in the grip of his man, and this relationship. But with Marlene Dietrich's wry, knowing grin as her goad, perhaps she will break free of him-- and of this cycle of abusive men-- someday. Even if she is "in love with" him, maybe she loves herself more.
Next Song: Small Blue Thing
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