| Grizzly Bear – Two Weeks Lyrics | 9 years ago |
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This song has held up really well over time. I still find myself coming back to it, and it inspires the same bittersweet feeling of impending loss that I had when I first heard it. But it seems I'm the only one who doesn't think it's about someone trying to reassure his insecure significant other that he's still deeply in love. Actually, I think it's about the opposite situation—the relationship has grown stagnant, and he's still hanging in there, but his heart's not in it anymore. Notice that the singer has nothing good to say about this relationship. It's "routine malaise," a "momentary phase," a dying relationship in which every day is the same as yesterday and his partner only goes "quarter half the mile" toward working on their issues. Still, the singer has made a commitment to this relationship—"I told you I would stay"—and so feels obligated to keep trying to make it work. However, his lack of enthusiasm is obvious; all the lines are truncated fragments as if he can't even muster up the energy to finish them. What's so heartbreaking about this song is that the singer is trying his best to do what's right yet has to plead with his partner to put in even the least bit of effort in return. "Would you always . . ." he begins, then scales down his expectations to "Maybe sometimes . . . / Make it easy?" Even though this relationship is disintegrating, he's trying so hard to keep his side of the commitment and just wants his significant other to help him do it, even sometimes. In this context, I think "take your time" may be sarcastic. He's barely hanging on, and his partner is apparently in no rush to lend a hand. "Can't you help me out here? Any day now!" he seems to be saying with frustration. If not sarcastic, then the last line may simply be a plea to an uptight partner to relax a little. As for the purposefully vague title "Two Weeks," I'm going to guess that it references something that took place in Ed Droste's life. Maybe these realizations about the relationship came to him in a two-week period. Or maybe the song took the band two weeks to finish. A lot of song titles that seem unrelated to the song actually are the songwriter's nod to some personal event. |
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| Regina Spektor – Open Lyrics | 11 years ago |
| You're right! Her use of onomatopoeia adds so much to her music. It's absolutely brilliant! And so is your analysis. It's spot on! | |
| Regina Spektor – Open Lyrics | 11 years ago |
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What a powerful, haunting song! Like all of Regina Spektor's work, it reveals more layers of meaning the more you listen to it. And, as always, it features her brilliant use of onomatopoeia to add another dimension. I didn't know what this song was about until I came here and read the remarks of csl5141 and fairy28 and made the connection: "Open" is about a prisoner. We can sense this prison in the fence she stands behind ("Wires round my fingers"), in her forced labor ("Scrubbing out the stains again"), and in her claustrophobic cell with its "four straight walls, one floor, one ceiling." This may be a prison of the mind, but it's also a physical prison, and its location "down the road and up the hill," "through those woods and past the trains," certainly suggests a Nazi concentration camp. Whether the singer is Anne Frank or an unnamed Holocaust victim isn't that important, although the reference to snow might point to Frank–she died of typhus in the winter of 1945, along with 30,000 others in Bergen-Belsen. Historical images of their bodies piled high in the snow are not uncommon. What's amazing about this song is how RS uses it to celebrate the human spirit. Even in the face of such cruel atrocities, the singer remains hopeful. Though she is physically confined, in the room she's created within her own mind she is "suspended and open," always aware that no matter how inhumanly she is treated, she is "perpetually human" and "potentially lovely." She may feel dirtied and degraded by the abuse, but she keeps "scrubbing out the stains again." As she waits, "suspended," for her freedom, the refrain "open" becomes her fondest wish, her command to the gates to part and let her out. Tragically, this is not to be: "In a night the snow starts falling, / And everybody stares / Through the windows at the streetlights / Too beautiful to see." What's going on here? Well, in a literal sense, one can imagine the prisoners staring out of the barracks as the snow falls. But what does this mean metaphorically? My thought is that the streetlights are a beacon in the night. They represent hope, guidance, maybe even divine intervention. But anyone who's seen streetlights at night knows they're so bright, it's hard to look at them. And in a blizzard, they quickly become covered in snow. Either way, the prisoners can't see them, and RS implies that the beautiful things they symbolize–hope, guidance, a miracle–are out of their reach. In the next verse, things get very desperate for the singer. She gasps for air as she refers to a room closing in on her, perhaps built by the forced labor of her own hands, and one immediately thinks of the gas chambers or maybe of the barracks, where so many died of disease. RS emphasizes the torturous slowness of this death when she repeats that every day, "day after day," she's compelled to "wake up feeling, feeling," suffering and suffering. And yet, the human spirit still triumphs, this time by making the transition into the next life, into that beautiful light that was out of reach on earth. When the singer opens her eyes, with a little gasp (listen for the "Oh!" after "Open up your eyes, / And then…"), this time what opens is the door to another world, one where her lovely potential will finally be fulfilled. If you listen, you can hear her spirit sing as it floats off into paradise...So sad but so beautiful! |
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| Daughter – The Woods Lyrics | 11 years ago |
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I guess I'll be the first to comment on this hauntingly beautiful song! On the surface, this song is about the disappearance of a child. I imagine the singer as a young girl addressing a playmate whose sister has gone missing, last seen in the woods with winter coming on. We aren't told what happened to her, whether she got lost or was the victim of foul play, and the singer herself may not know. The early line "it was certain then" remains unclear, and we don't know if it refers to the girl's disappearance or to her death, but the next eerie lines imply that some harm is known or suspected to have come to her somewhere out in the cold: "And we were trying to stop the winter/Killing all it could." In any case, we know the disappearance has greatly affected the singer's friend because the singer says, "And I/Pray a lot for you,/And I/Look out for you." Perhaps the most interesting (and ambiguous) lines are found in the third and fourth verses. As though sharing a secret with us, the singer says, "We are what we are,/Don't need no excuses/For the scars/From our mothers./And we know what we know/'Cause we're made of all/The little bones/Of our fathers." This is unusually violent imagery in reference to mothers and fathers. Under what circumstances, we might wonder, would these children get "scars from our mothers"? And what secret are they keeping when the singer says, "We know what we know"? This hints at a very dark possibility for what may have happened to the missing child, specifically that she might have died at the hands of an abusive parent. If this is the case, then it colors the singer's statement that she prays and looks out for her friend with a whole new meaning; perhaps the singer is afraid that her friend will meet the same fate as his/her sister did. But like every unsolved mystery, this song contains clues to another, deeper possible meaning, one that has to do with faith versus knowledge. The lyrics are layered with religious references to St. Christopher, prayer, scars and bones (reminiscent of martyrs, relics, and the Crucifixion), a father (the Holy Father?) and a mother (the Virgin Mary?). It also describes the missing sister (and note that "sister" is also a term applied to Catholic nuns and more generally to "sisters in Christ") as one who "ran out in the woods." The wilderness has long been used in the Christian religion as a symbol of the devil's domain, a place of unbridled evil awaiting the Christian who wanders off the straight and narrow path. At some point, many children outgrow their innocent faith and go "into the woods" in search of all the knowledge and experiences that the world can offer. Elena Tonra addresses the anxiety surrounding this moment of departure, the fear on the part of the remaining faithful that they too will lose their faith and/or that this loss will be punished harshly. The insinuation is that the child who wanders away meets some awful fate, possibly doled out by God himself, and that the faithful believe this fate is deserved: "Don't need no excuses for the scars/From our (M)mothers." In addition, there seems to be concern that we're never really able to break free from the values instilled in us at a young age: "And we know what we know/'Cause we're made of all the little bones/Of our (F)fathers." On the other hand, these same lines may be seen as defiant, a celebration of our humanity in spite of our frailty. Yes, we're imperfect. We come from a long line of flawed people with our scars and our fragile bones. But we can proudly say that "we are what we are." The disappearance of the singer's young acquaintance seems to be a turning point in her own faith, a loss of innocence and blind trust. She asks St. Christopher to help find her friend's sister, but she gets no answer. Or, if she does, then the child he helps them find is dead, a cruel answer indeed and one that would understandably make her question what she believes even though she fears the consequences of questioning. As the last line fades away, it echoes the first line. We are back where we began, without any real answers, as we always are in matters of faith. |
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| Richard Marx – Hazard Lyrics | 11 years ago |
| "I need to make it to the river and leave this old Nebraska town" could easily indicate that he wants to follow the river out of town. Many towns have roadways that follow or cross the river to enter and exit. It could also indicate that he wants to visit the river to mourn Mary's loss and then leave (as he does in the video). Even if he did want to commit suicide, it wouldn't necessarily be because he was guilty. (See arthurn's comment.) | |
| Richard Marx – Hazard Lyrics | 11 years ago |
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The music videos show us that Hazard is an actual town. We see the "Hazard City Limits" sign in the establishing shot and again shortly before the fade-out. "My mother came to Hazard when I was just seven" is probably a play on words, referring to both the town of Hazard and her early death. The singer doesn't say that no one cared about Mary. He says they don't care what he felt about her: "No one understood what I felt for Mary./No one cared until the night she went walking all alone/And never came home." In other words, no one cares about HIM and what he thinks and feels until Mary turns up dead. |
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| Richard Marx – Hazard Lyrics | 11 years ago |
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This song by itself is a simple tale of a man falsely accused of murder (unless you believe he's an unreliable narrator). But the two videos, I think, create a story that points to the sheriff as the killer. The videos introduce four theories about Mary's death: Either she killed herself or was killed by Richard Marx's character, the sheriff, or her unknown lover. We can rule out suicide. Mary didn't drown; she was strangled and dumped in the river. It would be easy to determine this on autopsy, which is why the scarf is presumed to be the murder weapon. (The sheriff brandishes the scarf and asks Richard, "How did you tie this around Miss Mary's neck?") It would be virtually impossible for someone to strangle herself with her own scarf! More importantly, we see Mary on the riverbank through the eyes of the killer as he approaches and she turns to scream. If she committed suicide, what's going on in these shots? Though the police department eventually rules the death a suicide, this seems like an easy out so they can close the case, not an evidence-based conclusion. We can also rule out Mary's lover because if he murdered her, then the sheriff must've really been an innocent man just looking out for Mary. But if that was so, he should've arrested her lover as a prime suspect. After all, he saw her lover with her on the night of the murder. Instead, Richard seems to be the only one he's interested in, which is consistent with the idea that he's trying to frame him. There's a second reason we can rule out Mary's lover, and it's the same reason we can ultimately rule out Richard: We see three shots of Mary through the killer's eyes as he bears down on her. Notice her expression when she turns to see who's there. She's startled, confused, and then terrified, opening her mouth to scream. If it was Richard or her lover who approached her, she would've looked relieved at first, maybe even glad. Her reaction indicates that the person she sees is someone she didn't expect and doesn't trust. So who do we know Mary doesn't trust? The sheriff. We know he's been following her, and though you could argue that he's just suspicious of Richard and trying to protect her, a good cop doesn't keep people under surveillance with no plausible reason. When he drives by, Mary looks wary of him and even breaks into a run. That's not a normal way for a girl to react to a police officer unless he said or did something that made her uncomfortable. When Mary is murdered, her body is found quickly ("next morning") and in an obvious place, a shallow river that she frequented, as if the killer wanted it to be found. Yet Richard makes no attempt to hide or flee and is surprised by the cops in his bed the next morning. The sheriff then tries his hardest to incriminate Richard until the other officers have to tell him to back off because there's no good evidence against him. All of this suggests that the sheriff killed Mary and framed Richard. But what should we make of Richard's violent past then? Clearly Young Richard was a troubled boy. The townsfolk said he was "not right," and the videos imply that he deliberately set fire to his house, killing his mother and her lover. But did Young Richard *intend* for them to die? It's extremely rare for a child under twelve to kill anyone, much less his own mom. But it's common for kids to act out aggressively to express frustration and get attention. It looks like this is the story in "Hazard." Young Richard acts out in anger, not thinking of the consequences, which prove fatal in this case. He cuts his hair in guilt and remorse as a way to shame himself and literally "cut ties" to his past. If we assume Young Richard didn't want his mother dead and felt horrible about the fire he caused, it becomes much less likely that he'd want to kill Mary. After Mary dies, he cuts his hair again not because he's guilty of her murder but because he *feels* guilty. The circumstances are all too similar. Mary looks uncannily like his mother, her long-haired partner looks like his mother's lover, and he felt hurt and betrayed that Mary "replaced" him, just as he felt hurt and betrayed that his mother "replaced" his father. In his anger, he ran away and left Mary alone and vulnerable, and even though he knows he wasn't responsible for her death this time, he *feels like* his uncontrolled emotional response has once again killed the woman he loves. There's no conflict in Richard's statements that Mary "went walking all alone" and that he "left her by that river…safe and sound." When he sees her for the last time, she and her lover are probably parked near the river. That's why Richard was walking there in the first place–he was hoping to run into her. And that's why the sheriff was hanging around–he was hoping to run into them. When Richard takes off, Mary apparently runs after him, picking up the scarf he tore off in his anger, which she's wearing when the killer finds her. The river must be close by because she walks down there to have a good cry. Richard, meanwhile, goes home to sulk in his trailer. And so I rest my case: Mary was murdered but not by Richard or her lover. The sheriff done it! But the fact that this song and its music videos are still the subject of so much debate almost twenty years later is a testament to how masterful they are. Truly among the all-time great music videos! |
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| The Dead Weather – Blue Blood Blues Lyrics | 13 years ago |
| ETA: It just occurred to me that this is also an interesting counterpoint to The Raconteurs' song "Blue Veins." | |
| The Dead Weather – Blue Blood Blues Lyrics | 13 years ago |
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Really surprised so few people have commented on this so far. I guess I’ll take a stab at it. This song is credited to Dean Fertita, Jack Lawrence, and Jack White. I suspect White is responsible for the lyrics–structurally and stylistically, they bear his stamp. I think this song is about the tension between love and the desire for freedom that crops up in any marriage or long-term relationship, especially a high-profile one with its particular pressures. It may even reflect White’s own struggles on that front, as suggested by the title. A “blue blood” is a somewhat disparaging term for a member of the British nobility, and White’s wife, interestingly enough, is British. Or it could have nothing to do with her, in which case White may have chosen the color “blue” simply because it’s the color of sadness. Here’s a line-by-line breakdown: Yeah, I love you so much, I don’t need to resist. I don’t need to exist, This speaks to the power of a love so overwhelming that the individual “I” is consumed in the “we” of the relationship. Dripping blue blood From my wrist. I don’t need to resist. But this kind of love has a dark side. Obliteration of the self in love is also a kind of death. If the “blue blood” of this song's title indeed refers to a person, notice how she’s so much a part of him that she’s become his own blood. They’re inseparable. Yet as she fills him up, she also obliterates him. That’s the tension between love and loss of self. Yeah, all the neighbors get pissed When I come home. I make ‘em nervous. (Come home (x 2).) Yeah, I make ‘em nervous. Why would the neighbors be disturbed when he comes home? Maybe because there’s trouble in the family... Crack a window, crack a broken bone. Crack your knuckles when you’re at home. Lick an ice cream cone. Crack a bone (x 3). (Crack a bone (x 3).) These lines are rather violent, hinting at bursts of temper that are physically and emotionally chipping away at the broken home, perhaps interspersed with attempts to “make nice” for the kids and whatnot (“lick an ice cream cone”). Alternatively, they paint a picture of someone sitting at home, waiting for the singer, perhaps cracking her knuckles and bingeing on ice cream out of boredom and anxiety. All you had to do was ask. Who is it that wears a mask? When you put me to task, You know, you leave me broke and shirtless. These lines are somewhat more ambiguous but seem to express the singer’s feeling that his loved one is insincere or manipulative (wearing a mask) and too demanding (taking the very shirt off his back). Check your lips At the door, woman. Ouch! Here he gets aggressive, bluntly telling her to shut up. Shake your hips Like battleships. Seems to be an acknowledgment of how women may use sex as a weapon in a relationship. And all the white girls trip When I sing at Sunday service, Sing at Sunday service (x 2), I sing at Sunday service. (Sing (x 3).) I agree with maxperkins, who thinks that “white girls” is actually a stand-in for Jack White fans. At this point, he seems to be reminding his partner that there are plenty of other women out there who appreciate him. The word “trip” here could either mean “fall,” implying that all the girls fall for him, or it could suggest a drug trip, meaning that the girls experience a kind of high when he performs “at Sunday service,” a nod to either White’s Catholic background or the nearly “religious” ecstasy that overwhelms his fans when he performs. I only got one face (dadadada) Seems to be another shot at the woman. Whereas she appears to “wear a mask,” he states that he’s always been himself... I tried too long to erase. ...even if he almost lost himself in her. You know if I left (dadadada), I wouldn’t leave a trace. I wouldn’t leave a trace (dadadada). I wouldn’t leave a trace. If I left you, woman, You know, I wouldn’t leave a trace. I wouldn’t leave a trace (x 5). If I left, you’d never see me again. You’d never see me again. I wouldn’t leave a trace. You’d never see me again. He concludes with a threat, reminding her that he could leave at any time, and if he does, he’ll be gone for good, completely. The overall effect of the song is very harsh, but I have to think it just reflects the darker thoughts that privately haunt many men through the ups and downs of a marriage or long-term relationship. |
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| The Dead Weather – I Cut Like a Buffalo Lyrics | 13 years ago |
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Wow! Some of these analyses are almost as brilliant as the lyrics themselves! Hmmm...I think this song is Jack White's admission of how conflicted he sometimes feels as an artist. If you think of his musical side as his soft, "feminine" side, then he's contrasting that with the more "masculine" side he presents to the world, a side he sometimes needs in order to defend who he is and the music he makes. My guess is that his masculine side, which would like to protect him from what he feels, is somewhat at war with the feminine side that wants to dig deep into these feelings and express them in music. I believe there's some support for this in the video, which juxtaposes JW with various redheads in harem costumes. JW is apparently drawn to redheads, but that would also make the iconic redhead his alter ego or nemesis. In the video, these women are veiled and mysterious--like that intuitive spark of musical genius--suggesting that they represent an inner, hidden part of JW. Some people have also picked out the song's sexual metaphors, which I think are dead on, but I'm not sure they're literally about sex as much as about the relationship that a musician has with his audience. For instance, CheddarBiscuits is probably onto something about the oral sex references, but I think they're used symbolically to illustrate how JW feels when he presents his work to the world: Are his listeners really so impressed (or repelled) by his music, or are they "just jokin'"? I can imagine that fame and all the fans, critics, and gossipmongers that come with it can be quite a head trip and can make a musician wonder who's being genuine and who's just messing with him. In this way, the woman in the song becomes not only Jack's artistic side but the listener waiting to receive his music. Although the audience is portrayed as receptive (feminine), it also has quite a bit of power (masculine) to hurt JW. It's a "prick with a pin" that's going to "push it into [his] skin." It makes sense that JW would cite "You cut a record on my throat,/But the record's not broken" as the most salient line. It perfectly describes how it probably feels to offer up so much of himself through his music in a painful process that leaves him vulnerable to public reaction. The record is cut but at great personal expense--it's cut against his throat, the most vulnerable area of his body and the seat of his voice. The result is a perfect record ("the record's not broken"), but JW himself is gutted in the process ("Cut a record on my throat,/Then you break me wide open"). All that said, now I almost feel like I owe JW an apology for assuming I know the first thing about what must be a very personal song! It kind of feels like I'm contributing to the painful dissecting process I think he was singing about... :( |
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| Tyrone Wells – Sink or Swim Lyrics | 14 years ago |
| Yeah, it's probably just a love song, but it has a nice "love is a battlefield" metaphor running through it with the "crossfire," "kamikaze airplanes," and "shipwreck." It probably isn't much deeper than that, but I can't help thinking it would also be suitable as a statement about the sociopolitical climate in the U.S. right now. Apart from the second verse, which seems to directly address a romantic partner, most of the song could easily be about the chaos of terrorism, economic collapse, climate crisis, and political betrayal that is threatening our country. In fact, when I first heard this song and didn't have a chance to listen to all the words carefully, my overall impression was that it was a war protest song. | |
| Pinback – Non Photo-Blue Lyrics | 14 years ago |
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I think Cabres hit the nail on the head; the meaning of this song is wrapped up in its title. In the publishing world, non-photo blue is a color in which editors write notes to the printer because it doesn't show up on the finished product. However, I'm not convinced that "non-photo blue" in this song represents a failed relationship. I'm not even sure the "she" and "he" referred to are or ever were a couple. They may just be examples of people who distract themselves from painful realities they don't want to face by isolating themselves and wasting their lives on mind-numbing pursuits, "a spiritual killing." Maybe the band sees this as tantamount to a kind of suicide, reflected in the lyrics, "Don't do this, man./There's another one off behind,/Breaking down the door without warning," which calls to mind someone shouting through a locked door to a friend who's intent on harming himself. The singer identifies with these people ("I'm with that./I'm with them.") and their rage at the rest of the world that is "alive" without them but at the same time wants to save them from themselves. "Non-photo blue," I think, is a metaphor for how these people are living their lives. They've detached themselves from everyone and everything around them. They're purposely trying not to to be seen by others, not to leave their mark on the world: "Crossword filled in non-photo blue/So they'll never find you." What makes this song not just good but great is the ending: "I'm leaving a message/Stapled on your head./I get the same result./We get the same effect." Here's where you realize that the song is itself a note in non-photo blue, the singer's wake-up call to himself and those around him who have shut themselves off from life. The last two lines, with their parallel construction, reinforce that this isn't just a warning to two random people but to the singer himself and really all of us who close ourselves off. We too need to stop fading into the background, to live our lives in color, to leave our visible mark on the finished product so the world won't be the same as it was before we entered it. |
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| Bruce Springsteen – The Rising Lyrics | 14 years ago |
| Just thought of one more thing...Come to think of it, there's another possible interpretation for "the dream of life comes to me/like a catfish dancin' on the end of my line." Instead of suggesting that the fireman is trying to hold onto the earthly life that's slipping away from him, it could suggest that he's trying to grasp the afterlife waiting for him, that he can see it and feel it in front of him like a fisherman sees and feels a catfish dancing on the end of his fishing line, tantalizingly close but just out of reach. Again, this works well on a literal level, too, because the fireman is feeling his way through the darkness with only a rope to guide him. In this case, instead of leading him to the top of the building, it leads him to the afterlife that awaits. | |
| Bruce Springsteen – The Rising Lyrics | 14 years ago |
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"The dream of life comes to me Like a catfish dancin' on the end of my line." Obviously, The Boss's word on this is final, but for those who are having trouble understanding what he means, think of the way a fish wriggles and slips off the end of a fishing line. The fisherman grasps at it, tries to hold it, but it shimmies away and is gone. In the song, life is compared to that fish. The fireman, who is the voice of the song, feels the life he hoped for slip away from him like a fish slips away from a fisherman. This works beautifully in a literal sense, too, because we know the fireman has been climbing up the stairs with "this chain that binds me" tied around him. It is his literal lifeline, and he struggles to hold onto it as it slips away. Then, just as a fish rejoins the ocean, the fireman's spirit rejoins the endless ocean of eternity. This is such a powerful song because it works on so many levels. It's the story of one fireman climbing the tower and thus ascending from earth to heaven. As a chorus of other voices join in, it's the story of all the other souls rising along with his. It's the story of the survivors rising metaphorically from the blow of the attack and physically raising the remains and erecting a new structure in their wake. Springsteen is so brilliant because he takes a tragic event that resulted in thousands of untimely deaths and transforms it into a triumph of death overcome as all those innocent souls rise to life everlasting. All these years later, I still want to cry every time I hear it. |
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| Regina Spektor – Genius Next Door Lyrics | 14 years ago |
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Like all of Regina Spektor's songs, this one is so multilayered that it's impossible to pin it down to any single meaning, which is why I tend to disagree with interpretations that try to make it all about a group of kids practicing auto-erotic asphyxiation. I also can't really see Spektor writing a song that literal or that vulgar. The concept of the "orgasmic" drowning may be referenced, but I don't think the main theme is a teenager jerking off in a lake. I think the song can be thought of as a cautionary fable. It sets the stage by informing us that "some said the local lake had been enchanted," so the neighborhood called it "'the porridge,'" which indeed might be an allusion to the Grimm Brothers tale, "Sweet Porridge." Interestingly, in "Sweet Porridge," a hungry little girl is given an enchanted pot that can produce an endless supply of porridge, but only she knows the magic words to make it start and stop. One day, while she's out, her mother tries to use the pot, but since she doesn't know the magic words, the porridge fills the whole town. The pot only ceases making porridge when the little girl returns and commands it to stop. In the song, our hero is a young boy who is similarly hungry, but what he seems to hunger for is acceptance, recognition, probably some outlet for his intellect. Sci-fi/fantasy stories, our contemporary fairy tales, are full of introverted "mad scientist" types whose experimental pursuits cross into the realm of the supernatural, and if the song parallels the Grimm story, then it may suggest that the boy was responsible for the condition of the lake. In fact, I would go a step further and say that the lake represents the boy himself. It has the potential to be something magical, something "enchanted," much as a true genius can seem otherworldly, but now it is a ruined waste, thick and choked, just as the boy is wasting his life, choking down his genius by waiting tables and getting high. Thus, he is not only a genius but, paradoxically, a "fool" for throwing away his talent, and the community is foolish for ignoring his brilliance and ostracizing him. They whisper about the lake, "trying to keep it quiet" in the same way they undoubtedly whisper about the strange boy, his uncanny talent, and the failure he seems to have become in their eyes. There is a sense of shame here, suggestive of the stigma attached to those who are different and/or living on the fringes of society, as this boy seems to be. In fact, it seems clear that his life is out of control, just like the porridge in the "German fable" he's "mumbling" about. He is literally swimming in the mess he's made. The other kids are, of course, oblivious, to both the boy's genius and his pain: "to them it doesn't matter." They don't see anything particularly special or problematic about the lake and continue to swim and party there, even joking about it, probably much like they joke about the genius himself. The dark, haunting chords leave no doubt that something deeply troubling happens to this boy, but whether it's suicide or just a wasted life isn't clear. The "secret" could be his unused genius and, perhaps, how it has bubbled to the surface in the form of whatever he's done to the lake as a metaphor for the failed experiment that has become his own life. Like the child in the Grimm tale, he is the only one who has the power to stop the "porridge" from overwhelming him and save the village, but he apparently doesn't live up to his potential. When Spektor chastises him, pleading with him to "hold in your breath 'til you've thought it through, you foolish child," it does imply that he at least attempts to end his life in the lake, although if this is a metaphorical lake, it's possible that his late-night swim represents giving up on life or giving himself over to his problems rather than, literally, to death. This metaphorical interpretation would be supported by the fact that he is said to be "sleeping" and "dreaming" the next morning, although, again, this language could also be symbolic of death. The reporters could easily be at the lake either because word has gotten out about its mysterious physical properties or because a body has been found. Much has been made of the line which states that the genius has been "dreaming that the antidote is orgasm." While the line may be intentionally evocative of the orgasmic rush supposedly experienced before asphyxiation, I doubt that it means the boy is literally making a trip to the lake every night to masturbate and that he dies during the act. That seems too prosaic for Spektor. Instead, the previous comments which defined "orgasm" as representing a human connection or relationship seem more on target to me. Alternately, if we consider that the "antidote" he's looking for is an antidote for the wasted lake (i.e., the wasted life he's drowning in), then orgasm might be the point at which he's released from his wasted life, either through death or by reinventing a new life. In the latter case, the life-giving function of orgasm reinforces this interpretation. Another possibility is that the boy is described as "sleeping" because he's a sleeper in the colloquial sense of the word--a slacker, an underachiever. In this case, orgasm would be the moment that wakes him from his, uhm, wet dream so that he can make a fresh start and use his innate abilities. However, the repetition of the chorus immediately after this line seems to indicate that he doesn't achieve this release. A final possibility is that "dreaming that the antidote is orgasm" simply means he's dreaming that whatever the antidote is, it will be something spectacular and pleasurable, something amazing, a total release from all his troubles. However, if this is the case, then Spektor implies that he's misguided, that whatever drug or other self-medicating behavior he's employing to drown his sorrows is a "foolish" method of coping that will not have the desired result. In any case, the repetition of the chorus followed by the indescribably sad wailing and piano chords that close out the song point to a sad end for this gifted young man. Spektor implores him to "hold in your breath" until he makes it through his troubled teenage years, but he doesn't seem to be listening. Whether he commits suicide or simply fails to climb out of the muck that his life has become, it seems pretty clear that, in this version of the fable, the hero is not able to overcome the porridge. |
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| Metric – Empty Lyrics | 15 years ago |
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In its broadest sense, this is a song about self-harm. A lyricist worth her salt--and Haines IS--will often write layered verse open to multiple interpretations. Thus, the lyrics include language that is suggestive of various forms of self-injury, such as drug addiction, bulimia, and conformity to the point of self-denial, but can't be reduced to a simple commentary on any one of those things. Instead, "Empty" uses clever metaphors and double entendres to reflect a more general theme about the ways in which hurting people damage themselves. The interpretation Haines offers, as provided by jomayo112, is both revelatory and deliberately vague. Her exhortation to "not freak out" in the face of uncontrollable, unforeseen events--essentially, to "empty" your mind and live in the moment--certainly explains the almost jaded resignation that permeates lines like "Ask the line on your face/What the line on your hand meant./We couldn't see/What was coming." But, notably, Haines also refuses to be specific about HOW one might "freak out" and what might trigger this kind of episode, leaving the listener to decide whether the singer is suffering from a failed relationship, a band break-up, a drug habit, an eating disorder, or whatever traumatic circumstance you may want to infer. The common thread here is that all of these responses to stress lead to self-inflicted harm, an intentional deadening to emotional pain that leaves one numb or "empty." Whatever Haines might want us to believe about her life-affirming intentions, this is an unequivocally sad song. Perhaps, in retrospect, having worked through whatever problems inspired it, she can now reinterpret it as a hopeful embrace of the future. But the alternately melancholic and aggressive chords and passive, alienated lyrics do NOT imply that the singer is in a healthy, positive frame of mind. Rather, the song tells the story of a tragic individual who feels that there is "no way out but to give in," who, in fact, "love[s] to give in," denying and betraying herself because it's so much easier than maintaining her physical or emotional integrity. Her gesture of defiance, symbolized by a vigorous shake of the head, is also her coping mechanism–to "empty" herself, to isolate herself (i.e., become an "island"), to "cough up [her] heart" and flush it away like a piece of trash, and to ultimately convince herself that she "never miss[es] it at all." This intentional emotional deadening, this denial of the thoughts and feelings that make her who she is (her "heart"), is the very worst kind of self-harm. Whether she accomplishes this concretely by getting high, throwing up, leaving a boyfriend, caving to peer pressure, or whatnot isn't really the point. The last, haunting strains of music fade away as we contemplate this empty shell of a person. A celebratory song about acceptance it's not! If anything, it's a chilling reminder of the danger of sacrificing the most precious part of ourselves to anyone or anything. |
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| CocoRosie – South 2nd Lyrics | 15 years ago |
| Have to add that that's what makes this song more accomplished than mainstream hits like TLC's "Waterfalls" or Moby and Gwen Stefani's "South Side," both of which deal with the same subject matter but, in my mind, are just catchy pop tunes that fail to convey the real horror of gang violence in the way this haunting song does. | |
| CocoRosie – South 2nd Lyrics | 15 years ago |
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I agree with the straightforward interpretation. It's about destructive street violence in Brooklyn, kids killing kids over senseless arguments, silly insults, and old grudges for the sake of pride. What makes this song so memorable is its arrangement, the childlike voices framing a very grown-up tale against the innocent tinkling of a toy piano. |
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| Regina Spektor – Chemo Limo Lyrics | 15 years ago |
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There are lots of great, in-depth analyses of this song, but I don't think anyone has addressed the larger social issue that pervades it. Although it's a personal story of one woman's battle with cancer, she represents all the working poor who've been failed by the privatized American health care system. The (probably single) mom of this song obviously works very hard ("I plan to retire someday" and "go out in style," she sings proudly) but has trouble making ends meet. Her concern with cash is introduced immediately, when she dreams that "crispy, crispy Benjamin Franklin" babysits her kids. Franklin had many other incarnations--as a founding father, an inventor, an essayist--but, significantly, the one she associates him with is his image on a $100 bill. Money is on her mind, especially when it comes to her kids. She probably struggles to provide for them, and a babysitter is a luxury, something to be dreamt about. Despite how hard this woman works, she doesn't have adequate insurance coverage. A number of people interpret her attitude as a "f*** you" to the medical establishment and an active choice to let the disease take its natural course, but that's not what I see going on here. The lyrics tell us candidly that she's been in treatment with chemo, radiation, or both ("this shit is making me tired") but that her insurance has now run out. Hence she dreams that her doctor consults her employer about her insurance policy and, when he finds out it won't cover further medical care, dismisses her with the condescending assurance that everything is just fine. The image of her waiting for the verdict of their secret conference only to be given a pat on the head and sent home perfectly captures the powerlessness that many working class citizens experience in their encounters with the health care system. To regain a sense of dignity and control over her own life, the singer rationalizes the choice that has been made for her as her own, and certainly there is some amount of denial ("I smiled 'cause I'd known it all along") and relief in giving up the fight and living out her last days in peace ("on any given day, I'd rather ride a limousine"). But make no mistake about it--this mom doesn't CHOOSE to succumb to cancer and leave her kids alone. She simply "can afford chemo like...a limo." In other words, she can't. It's money (or lack thereof) that chooses for her. Whether the singer really uses the last of her savings to rent a limo or not doesn't really matter. The whole song is surreal and dreamlike, including the limo ride, in which the doctor is the chauffeur and they symbolically head west into the dying day. The meaning is far more important here than a dissection of which words should be taken literally and which are metaphorical. However, I DO believe that the children are really kids. After all, isn't that what makes this song so poignant? That not only has this woman been victimized by a health care system that won't treat her cancer but that her kids are about to become victims by proxy? The sequence in the limo is so heartbreaking not just because the singer realizes what she is losing but because she (and we) realize what her children are about to lose. Who will foster Sophie's love of learning? Who will protect Michael from the school bulllies? And Jacqueline, already trying to be so mature about this, is losing her innocence. All of this seems to hit home at once as the singer notices, perhaps for the first time, how much Barbara resembles her own mother. Although we can't be sure if her mother is living or dead, the reference is a jolting, physical reminder of the mother-daughter bond that will soon be severed. The singer's realization triggers a dual outpouring of grief for her own loss of her daughter's childhood and for her daughter's loss of her mom, a loss that perhaps the singer understands firsthand if her own mother has already passed on. As the last note fades away, we are left with that image of Barbara, who is the spitting image of her grandma, and wonder what now will become of these four children. Who will raise them and impart the values and family traditions that the singer's mom instilled in her? Well, when you go back to the beginning, you have your answer, and in fact, Spektor reminds us of it in the last verse: "Crispy, crispy Benjamin Franklin," this time in his incarnation as a federal official, takes care of her kids. It's a single parent's worst nightmare that, in the event of her death, her children might grow up schlepping through foster care homes or state institutions. And yet that is too often the reality for the littlest victims of a health care system that treats some people as second-class citizens. A heartbreaking and musically intricate cautionary tale about one of those ills of society we just don't like to face. And yet it happens every day. |
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| Arcade Fire – Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles) Lyrics | 16 years ago |
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It's common knowledge that Arcade Fire named the album on which this song appears Funeral because they had lost several close relations during the recording. But I think those losses sparked a more general contemplation of the contribution of the older generations and how they both affected and were affected by the passage of time in the twentieth century. The Arcade Fire often uses their music to make sociopolitical statements, and nowhere is this more evident than in the "Neighborhood" series, in which each song seems to reference a different time period in modern history. This last song in the "Neighborhood" cycle apparently concludes when the album was released, in 2004 and addresses the frustration that many contemporary Westerners feel with the the unresponsiveness of governmental powers to the impending crises that threaten to destroy our world: "Well, I closed my eyes and nothing changed,/Just some water getting hotter in the flames." The singer recognizes that soon he, too, will become the "last generation," and the decision-making power will be in the hands of his descendants, the "unborn children" who cover his eyes. Nonetheless, he is still very much emotionally involved in the outcome of his generation's decisions for them ("my heart keeps watching through the skin of my eyelids"). Perhaps the most overtly political song of the cycle, "Neighborhood #4" criticizes the contemporary rebirth of Christian fundamentalism and the warmongering of the U.S. government in lines like "the neighbors are starting up a fire,/Burning all the old folks, the witches, and the liars." It also touches on the environmental crisis ("You can't raise a baby on motor oil") and more directly alludes to the isolation that has continued to define the lives of the kids who came of age in "Neighborhood #3," during the birth of the Internet age. It's not romance that will fill this emptiness and it's not religion, it's the community and humanistic values that have been sacrificed for economic and political advancement: "But there's some spirit I used to know/That's been drowned out by the radio!" Together, the four "Neighborhood" songs represent a bleak review of the twentieth century and a cautionary but hopeful vision of the twenty-first. According to Arcade Fire, if our generation plants "a seed" of change "down in the soil" and "give it time," the results may be worth waiting for. Please see my comments on the other "Neighborhood" songs for more details on how this song cycle makes a sociopolitical statement. |
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| Arcade Fire – Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles) Lyrics | 16 years ago |
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It's common knowledge that Arcade Fire named the album on which this song appears Funeral because they had lost several close relations during the recording. But I think those losses sparked a more general contemplation of the contribution of the older generations and how they both affected and were affected by the passage of time in the twentieth century. The Arcade Fire often uses their music to make sociopolitical statements, and nowhere is this more evident than in the "Neighborhood" series, in which each song seems to reference a different time period in modern history. This last song in the "Neighborhood" cycle apparently concludes when the album was released, in 2004 and addresses the frustration that many contemporary Westerners feel with the the unresponsiveness of governmental powers to the impending crises that threaten to destroy our world: "Well, I closed my eyes and nothing changed,/Just some water getting hotter in the flames." The singer recognizes that soon he, too, will become the "last generation," and the decision-making power will be in the hands of his descendants, the "unborn children" who cover his eyes. Nonetheless, he is still very much emotionally involved in the outcome of his generation's decisions for them ("my heart keeps watching through the skin of my eyelids"). Perhaps the most overtly political song of the cycle, "Neighborhood #4" criticizes the contemporary rebirth of Christian fundamentalism and the warmongering of the U.S. government in lines like "the neighbors are starting up a fire,/Burning all the old folks, the witches, and the liars." It also touches on the environmental crisis ("You can't raise a baby on motor oil") and more directly alludes to the isolation that has continued to define the lives of the kids who came of age in "Neighborhood #3," during the birth of the Internet age. It's not romance that will fill this emptiness and it's not religion, it's the community and humanistic values that have been sacrificed for economic and political advancement: "But there's some spirit I used to know/That's been drowned out by the radio!" Together, the four "Neighborhood" songs represent a cautionary retelling of the twentieth century and a bleak vision of the twenty-first. Please see my comments on the other "Neighborhood" songs for more details on how this song cycle makes a sociopolitical statement. |
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| Arcade Fire – Neighborhood #3 (Power Out) Lyrics | 16 years ago |
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It's common knowledge that Arcade Fire named the album on which this song appears Funeral because they had lost several close relations during the recording. But I think those losses sparked a more general contemplation of the contribution of the older generations and how they both affected and were affected by the passage of time in the twentieth century. The Arcade Fire often uses their music to make sociopolitical statements, and nowhere is this more evident than in the "Neighborhood" series, in which each song seems to reference a different time period in modern history. In this light, "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)" is set in the North American economic boom of the '80s and '90s. Lots of people have noted that there was a blizzard in '98 that may have inspired this song, and it's an interesting coincidence that the end of the '90s was also the culmination of years of economic prosperity and the beginning of a downward turn in the stock market and, more broadly, in the fortunes of the Western world. This downturn happened suddenly and was a surprise to the generation just coming of age, who awoke to adulthood to find that the steady current of prosperity that had been feeding their parents' lifestyles had been cut off, much like an unexpected power outage. Due to the depressing economic and political climates, many young people felt disillusioned, their aspirations blocked ("Don't have any dreams, don't have any plans"). The Golden Age at the end of the millennium was also a time during which the nuclear family came under intense scrutiny. "Latch-key kids" and "children of divorce" were said to be the fallout of families stressed by parents who worked too much and parented too little. The song refers to these kids who have been sacrificed on the economic altar as "swinging from the power lines" because "nobody's home, nobody minds." The parents are powerless, a cool, distant presence in the lives of their children as they come of age ("Ice has covered up my parents' hands"). In a more general sense, "Neighborhood #3" addresses the growing alienation in the increasingly wired, media-driven time period that saw the death of the extended family and the freezing out of neighborhood communities. As we've become more numb to the world around us ("the power's out in the heart of man"), it's become harder for us to derive any real contentment or satisfaction in our lives ("nobody's cold, nobody's warm"), and the song even mocks our desperate search for meaning in mainstays like Christian fundamentalism at the turn of the century. It DID seem that around every corner, someone had "found the light," either spiritually or technologically, but in the age of relativism, there was (and is) no truth to be found. The end result, Arcade Fire laments, is that kids of the millennial generation have gotten the short end of the deal, cut adrift in the cold by a heartless society. The song ends with the poignant line, "Where did you go?", which could either be a deservedly accusatory question from these kids to the society that abandoned them or a haunting elegy for this "lost" young generation. Please see my comments on the other "Neighborhood" songs for more details on how this song cycle makes a sociopolitical statement. |
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| Arcade Fire – Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) Lyrics | 16 years ago |
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It's common knowledge that Arcade Fire named the album on which this song appears Funeral because they had lost several close relations during the recording. But I think those losses sparked a more general contemplation of the contribution of the older generations and how they both affected and were affected by the passage of time in the twentieth century. The Arcade Fire often uses their music to make sociopolitical statements, and nowhere is this more evident than in the "Neighborhood" series, in which each song seems to reference a different time period in modern history. In this light, "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" is set during the countercultural revolution of the 1960s. Here we have two disaffected youths sneaking off to meet each other while their parents are noticeably distraught, as many adults were then due to the Vietnam War, the Kennedy assassination, and the growing "sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll" movement among their children. In a world that they perceive as cold and alienating to them (i.e. covered in snow), the teens stage a protest of sorts and "let [their] hair grow long," as hippies did. However, there was indeed a backlash to the hippie movement, and many of those same impassioned Boomers demonstrating for the demise of capitalism became the yuppies of the Me generation, growing up and developing the thick skins referred to in the song. At some point, every young generation realizes that, despite their faults, their parents had valuable experiences to share and lessons to teach. Sadly, that realization often comes too late, as it does to the singer, whose generation has drifted so far from its roots that he can hardly remember his forefathers or the traditions he was raised with ("But we forgot all the names/...we used to know"; "Then we think of our parents/Well, whatever happened to them?"). Awakening to the fact that he's strayed so far from his youthful ideals, the singer, now older and more jaded, wishes that he could "hear.../The song I've been trying to sing," one which would "purify" him, restoring his tarnished ideals to their former brilliance. But, tragically, he also recognizes that the fire of his passion has burnt out, and only the "ashes of the colors" he once saw in the world still smolder in his heart. Please see my comments on the other "Neighborhood" songs for more details on how this song cycle makes a sociopolitical statement. |
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| Arcade Fire – Neighborhood #2 (Laika) Lyrics | 16 years ago |
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It's common knowledge that Arcade Fire named the album on which this song appears Funeral because they had lost several close relations during the recording. But I think those losses sparked a more general contemplation of the contribution of the older generations and how they both affected and were affected by the passage of time in the twentieth century. The Arcade Fire often uses their music to make sociopolitical statements, and nowhere is this more evident than in the "Neighborhood" series, in which each song seems to reference a different time period in modern history. In this light, "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)" is about the Cold War era. Alexander (which, as someone already mentioned, is a very common name in Eastern Europe) represents the oppressed youth who rebelled against communism, perhaps attempting to flee to the West, thus severing ties with his family. The lyrics are written from a child's point of view because the public was similarly infantalized under the communist regime, forced to submit to the will of "Big Brother." Like the ambivalent Soviet populace, which was caught for so many years between fighting for individual liberty and supporting the propaganda of the state, the singer initially encourages Alex to rebel ("Come on, Alex, you can do it") but is also torn by feelings of loyalty to the state and perhaps resentment of Alex for daring to turn his back on the "old ways" and escape: "For a year we caught his tears in a cup/And now we're going to make him drink it." Although his family partly admires and envies his determination, they're bitter that he's making them the target of police interest ("When daddy comes home you always start a fight/So the neighbors can dance in the police disco lights"). The Eastern European rebel interpretation is further supported by the reference to Laika, who, as everyone correctly noted, was the dog sacrificed for "the common good" of the Soviet people and the glory of their government. Subordination of individual rights for the sake of society was a key principle of communism, and the song taps into this, obliterating the line between Alex's well-being and that of his "comrades": "It's for your own good,/For the neighborhood." The song also captures the suspicious, sometimes superstitious, and ultimately hopeless atmosphere in which Russia bred its communist revolution. In an era in which looking the wrong way at an official statesman could have you deported to a Siberian prison, the people quickly learned that "if you want something, don't ask for nothing," and "if you want nothing, don't ask for something." In other words, don't ask questions, don't draw attention to yourself, and don't expect justice or clemency from the state. But even as the government attempted to squelch loyalties to any outside authority, the Russian people continued to uphold their longstanding tradition of superstition and mysticism. Vampires, for instance, struck very real terror into the hearts of many Eastern Europeans, and someone who was different may well have been "demonized," whispered to be under evil influences, whether earthly or otherwordly. The video for this song provides conclusive evidence for the above interpretation. As some others have commented, it features quite a bit of Eastern European imagery, including a monstrous skull labeled "Mother" (as in "Mother Russia"?) leading a firing squad against the would-be defector, Alex. Notice also the Old World village, the use of the Cyrillic alphabet, the heavy use of the color red (the color of communism), and the Stalin-esque posters. Like many others here, I think that Arcade Fire may also be drawing a parallel between the communist regime and the behavior of the U.S. toward dissenters, especially in light of the content of the other "Neighborhood" songs. (See my comments on the other songs for further comparisons.) |
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| Interpol – Pioneer to the Falls Lyrics | 16 years ago |
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Well, this may sound bizarre, but the first time I heard this song, the image that came to mind was none other than the Lewis and Clark expedition to the West Coast of the U.S. with Sacagawea. I know it may sound far-fetched, but Interpol have previously used historical figures--and explorers in particular (eg., Leif Erikson)--as inspiration in their music. Consider the case that this song may be based on the longstanding speculation about William Clark's relationship with Sacagawea, the Shoshone Indian guide who accompanied them and whose name, by the way, means "bird woman," one who might reasonably be said to "fly straight into my heart": Clark was literally a "pioneer to the falls." He and Meriwether Lewis were the first Americans to map the territory between the Mississippi River and the Pacific. Much of their expedition was conducted by canoe, and on the last leg of their journey, while on the Columbia River, they discovered Celilo Falls, which was one of the world's largest waterfalls by volume until it was dammed years later. In this light, the song depicts a river expedition, complete with the threat of "stowaways," "leaks," and dangerous "falls." Previous posters have noted references to some kind of love triangle or threesome ("three stowaways") as well as to the untimely death of a loved one ("show me the dirt pile," "the soul can wait," "I'll never let go...safe and inside, alive"). Interestingly, if Clark and Sacagawea did have a relationship that was more than platonic, it would have been just such a triangle; Sacagawea was married to a Canadian trader who was a member of the expedition, although it was an arranged marriage and, by some accounts, not a happy one. Also interestingly, Sacagawea gave birth to two children, one during the expedition and one shortly thereafter, and then died at the age of just 25. She "vanished" but "with no guile"--her husband and, ultimately, death were to blame. After her death, Clark sent for her children and raised them himself. Again, here we see correspondences with what others have pointed out about the song, including references to a love triangle, the unexpected loss of a loved one, and perhaps even, as one poster suggested, the separation of a family of three (Clark and the children?) from their fourth (Sacagawea?). All this is not to say that "Pioneer to the Falls" is solely a song about Clark and Sacagawea. Rather, I think Paul Banks has taken a bit of history, as he has done before, and drawn a parallel to personal or universal events. Perhaps, as someone suggested, he was involved in an impossible relationship with a married woman, and saw that as new territory to him. Or perhaps he lost someone to an early death, and that provoked an internal journey of the soul. But, in any case, I think it's quite likely that he identified with the legend surrounding the expedition of Lewis and Clark and used it as an extended metaphor for whatever he was experiencing. As a side note, I think the line that is quoted as "here comes the fall (fault)" is actually "here comes the falls," as in a waterfall, threatening to sweep apart the "you" and "I" of the song and destroy their relationship. And, apropos of that, the root word "fall" has so many connotations: to fall for someone, to take the fall for someone, to fall from grace, to fall as in collapse, like the fall of an empire...All of these subtle variations could be relevant to the song. |
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| Death Cab for Cutie – Tiny Vessels Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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All songs are written in the hopes that the listener will find a way to relate the song to his/her life, of course. But if we want to know what was in the composer's mind as he wrote, it's helpful to know something about his background. When DCFC recorded the album that features "Tiny Vessels," Ben Gibbard was enduring a painful separation from his girlfriend, Joan Hiller, who has a cameo in the "Soul Meets Body" video. Hiller was part of an all-girl indie band at the time, and she and Gibbard spent a lot of time apart while touring and working on their respective musical careers. The song "Transatlanticism," which immediately follows "Tiny Vessels," is undoubtedly about the physical and emotional distance that had grown between them. In light of that, it's a good guess that "Tiny Vessels" is about a fling that Gibbard had during his separation from Hiller. (There's been some speculation that his partner was one of the girls who provided vocals on the first Postal Service album.) Evidently, Gibbard tried to move past Hiller but couldn't muster any real feelings for his new love interest and had to let her go. Fittingly, the conclusion of "Tiny Vessels" flows into the intro of "Transatlanticism" as Gibbard moves from his ill-advised fling to contemplation of the girl he really still loves and misses...and who he finally ended up with. (They currently live together in the Seattle area.) |
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| Death Cab for Cutie – Transatlanticism Lyrics | 18 years ago |
| All songs are written in the hopes that the listener will find a way to relate the song to his/her life, of course. But if we want to know what was in the composer's mind as he wrote, it's helpful to know something about his background. When DCFC recorded "Transatlanticism," Ben Gibbard was enduring a painful separation from his girlfriend, Joan Hiller, who has a cameo in the "Soul Meets Body" video. Hiller was part of an all-girl indie band at the time, and she and Gibbard spent a lot of time apart while touring and working on their respective musical careers. In this song (and on the rest of the album), Gibbard sings of their physical and emotional distance from each other. Since Hiller was touring in Europe while Gibbard was in Seattle, the couple literally had an ocean between them, so it would seem natural for Gibbard's song to revolve around the Atlantic as an obstacle in their relationship. | |
| Death Cab for Cutie – Transatlanticism Lyrics | 18 years ago |
| All songs are written in the hopes that the listener will find a way to relate the song to his/her life, of course. But if we want to know what was in the composer's mind as he wrote, it's helpful to know something about his background. When DCFC recorded "Transatlanticism," Ben Gibbard was enduring a painful separation from his girlfriend, Joan Hiller, who has a cameo in the "Soul Meets Body" video. Hiller was part of an all-girl indie band at the time, and she and Gibbard spent a lot of time apart while touring and working on their respective musical careers. In this song (and on the rest of the album), Gibbard sings of their physical and emotional distance from each other. Since Hiller was touring in Europe while Gibbard was in Seattle, the couple literally had an ocean between them, so it would seem natural for Gibbard's song to revolve around the Atlantic as an obstacle in their relationship. | |
| Margot & the Nuclear So and So's – Skeleton Key Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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I see this haunting song as a tune about someone regretting how he mistreated his former lover. It seems that she was deeply in love with him, left someone she was already involved with for him, and bent over backwards to make him happy, but he didn't appreciate her. The "lack of loyalty" reference suggests that he either cheated, refused to commit, or in some way betrayed her. The verse "I bred my misery and drowned it in her,/And she got me high,/And I hardly noticed there were tears in her eyes" seems to say that he used her as a distraction from his unhappiness and emotional problems without concern as to how that would affect her. Now that he's lost her, he tries to convince himself that he doesn't miss her, that she wasn't so wonderful after all, and that she couldn't really love him after he treated her so terribly ("Don't claim you love me/'Cause you know that ain't true). To interpret the "skeleton key" metaphor, remember that a skeleton key is a master key which can open any lock, but it's also, by its nature, generic. When the singer refers to her as "squirming," "twisting," and "turning" like a skeleton key, I think he's describing her efforts to get him to open up to her, to unlock his heart, so to speak, while also implying that she was unable to do so because he treated her as though she was "nothing special," generic, interchangeable, indistinguishable from any other girl...like a skeleton key. I also noticed some references to an alcohol problem in this song. Besides the obvious line about how "this stream of whisky's helped to wash you away," the song is laced with phrases like "drowned my misery," "she got me high," and "my dire affliction," which seem to compare the girl's role in his life to a drug or drink that helps him forget his troubles. Whether this is merely a metaphor or a hint at an actual alcohol addiction that drove her away is anybody's guess. Overall, an insightful song about taking someone's love for granted... |
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