Annemarie

This song is heart-wrenching, compelling, hyperliterate, intricate... a mini-novel. It shows that Vega is an artist still at the height of her powers.

Since the subject of the album the song is on is Carson McCullers (a female 20th Century American writer), the subject of this song is likely to be fellow author Annemarie Schwarzenbach, McCullers' lesbian crush, who typically dressed in men's clothes and with who she claimed to have shared a kiss. Of her, McCullers wrote: "She had a face I knew would haunt me the rest of my life." While they never achieved couplehood, McCullers dedicated her novel Reflections in a Golden Eye to Annemarie.

The song starts by referring to the quote about Annemarie: "I saw your face; I knew you'd haunt me for all of my life."

The next three words define how McCullers saw Annemarie-- as completely unattainable: "Rising above me." The rest of the song is a painful list of all the ways Annemarie is superior to her.

"Everyone sees you, everyone knows you," she says. Everyone also "loves... wants... needs... worships" Annemarie. So, even though McCullers would say, "If you would want me I'd be no man's wife," what's the point? After all, "Who could possibly hold one so fair?"

"How can I possibly compare?" she asks, "How can I possibly compete?" Annemarie, is "brilliant"; she "moves through the world with money and family... [and] perfect beauty."

Let's talk about that beauty for a minute. We already know her face is "haunting." But people "worship" Annemarie! At least our speaker does: "If I could see God, His face would be sacred like yours." Just... wow. "But God's face is hidden, and your face is suddenly all I can see."

This is beyond smitten-- this is obsessed.

Nevertheless, Annemarie has issues too, and it seems, a lot of them: "Who could contain you, with all of your pain?" She is "stormy," as well.

But even this the speaker finds attractive: "She glitters with trouble... How can I possibly complain?"

So the speaker, McCullers, feels that Annemarie is perfect, even in her imperfections. Are the perfections a way... in? No. Even pained, Annemarie is the impossible dream, the unreachable star: "Who could possibly make you complete?" Even if someone could, in theory, do so, it would not be the speaker: "Could I gather up all that you remain?"

The object of affection is summed up in three words: "Terror, pity, love-- Annemarie." The speaker is terrified of her... and how she feels about her, which makes her vulnerable. She pities the poor little rich girl, whose status makes her beyond the (what McCullers is sure would be) the healing power of her affection.

And "love" is what she considers all of these emotions to be, in sum.

Does she love her? She admires her, to the point of "worship." She is jealous of her status and stature, yet pities Annemarie for the isolation she has on her mountaintop. But does that amount to love?

You can love some you feel is out of your league. But the line, "How could I possibly compete?" makes me feel that the desire is more to achieve Annemarie, and to match her accomplishments, than to accompany her as a partner: "Oh, if I were Annemarie's girlfriend, life would be awesome. Everyone could see I was her equal."

But that will never be. So McCullers gets to play the martyr. No one else is good enough for her... except for the one person who is too good. So she gets to be the victim, and never has to actually have a relationship. She has trapped herself on Keats' Grecian Urn... on purpose.

Next Song: Twelve Mortal Men

Fool's Complaint

This is a song about tarot cards, a series of cards with pictures which, according to superstition, can tell your future and fate when dealt and "read" by a psychic. This is not the first time Vega has discussed this topic; see the song "Predictions."

There are two cards discussed. One is the Queen of Pentacles (there are some cards with no suits; others have suits of Cups, Swords, Wands, or Pentacles-- five-pointed stars). The other is The Fool, or jester, similar to the Joker in a typical deck of playing cards and likewise suit-less.

The song is short, and mostly an attack on the Queen of Pentacles. I am no expert in tarot, so I looked this card up. Evidently, it is a card related to a focus on the home and what a pregnant couple would call "nesting."

The speaker sees this card, however, as representing a domesticity that precludes wandering. It's not just the Queen prefers to stay home, she insists upon it; this is "domestic tyranny." And, since she will not leave her imperious "golden throne," all things must be brought to her-- and yes, that means all things.

The speaker likens this selfishness to being like a "drain" in a sink or bathtub, whose "vortex" sucks everything toward its bottomless abyss. She is also likened to Rome, in that "all roads lead" to her; "her needs and wants and wishes and whims/ All take precedence."

Since she never works for her gains, she doesn't value them ("never knowing any cost"), or those who bring them to her. She has even invented a game of "fetch" with her servants, as if they were dogs: she "throws around her finery/ For us to fetch when it gets lost."

The speaker decries this state, for both its static sameness and its spoiled selfishness.

Luckily, this is not the speaker's card! Her card is "the Fool." The Fool is not bitter, but "merry." The Fool is not stolid, but a "rootless... with air beneath [his] footstep." The Fool is not confined by schedules, either, but has "Providence as [his] plan."

And the speaker identifies with this attitude, claiming it as her own. She excoriates the whiny, bratty Queen of Pentacles and embraces the happy, happy-go-lucky Fool.

And... that's the whole song. I told you it was short.

Next Song: I Never Wear White