| Haystak – All by Myself Lyrics | 9 months ago |
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Greetings, noble seekers of rhyme and redemption! Today, we’re dissecting Haystak’s “All By Myself,” a 2005 titan from From Start to Finish—less a song and more a soliloquy of betrayal and triumph, wrapped in Tennessee twang and hip-hop’s raw pulse. Picture this: it’s ’05, Jason Winfree—aka Haystak—is 32, a hulking white rapper from Nashville’s underbelly, grinding through the indie rap scene. Crunk’s peaking, the South’s ascendant, and he’s baring his soul over a stark beat—likely cut in a smoky studio with Sonny Paradise at the helm. Let’s wade through the lyrics, root them in their mid-aughts muck, and see why this track still reverberates like a lone wolf’s howl. Intro: “Tell me a story, Uncle Stak / What you want me to tell you a story about? / About bad guys and stuff / OK, that should be easy” Haystak opens with a child’s voice—pure innocence—calling him “Uncle Stak,” and already, the listener is disarmed. It’s a framing device, sharp and tender, setting up a tale of villains and valor. “Bad guys and stuff” is kid-speak, but “that should be easy” lands with a wry jab—his life is a rogue’s gallery. A decade past juvie, he’s carved a niche as “white trash” rap’s bard. The South’s hip-hop wave—Lil Jon, T.I.—is cresting, and this intro nods to his roots, simple yet sly. Feeling & Idea: Warmth with a warning. A fireside yarn spun by a romantic who knows darkness lurks. Intellectually, it’s Brechtian—breaking the fourth wall to pull us in. Verse 1: “Now I was once in the mix / With some phony homies / Who turned they backs on me / When I needed them most” The narrative ignites. “In the mix” is street alchemy—Haystak’s early days hustling in Nashville’s shadows. “Phony homies” are Judas in grillz—betrayal’s sting is personal. “Turned they backs” cuts deep; “when I needed them most” is the wound—think post-arrest isolation. By ’05, he’s risen via Car Fulla White Boys (2000), but scars linger—Southern rap’s camaraderie can be a mirage. Feeling & Idea: Pain with a pulse. A lament for trust shattered. It’s Nietzschean—strength forged in betrayal’s fire. “And even though they my enemies / I’m keepin’ ‘em close / ‘Cause I can either sink ‘em / Or keep ‘em afloat” Here’s the twist. “Enemies” flips the script—foes, not friends; “keepin’ ‘em close” is Sun Tzu by way of Tennessee—strategy over sentiment. “Sink ‘em or keep ‘em afloat” is power’s pivot—Haystak’s the captain now. Indie but mighty, and this is his chessboard—post-jail grit turned leverage. Feeling & Idea: Control with a chill. A paradox—love thy enemy, wield the knife. A strategist’s move, cold yet calculated. “While the ship jumpers go / Searchin’ for life preservers / I’ma stay here and try / To repair the holes in my ship” The metaphor sails. “Ship jumpers” are rats fleeing—fair-weather friends; “life preservers” is their panic. “Stay here and try” is stoic resolve; “repair the holes” is Haystak’s DIY soul—self-made, resilient. Feeling & Idea: Resilience with roots. A romantic’s labor, patching leaks alone. Emersonian self-reliance as creed. “Tightenin’ the loose boards / In the home that I built / I did this by myself / I ain’t never need yo help” The image hardens. “Tightenin’ the loose boards” is craft—both literal and lyrical. “Home that I built” is pride—Nashville’s son, no silver spoon. “By myself” is the boast; “ain’t never need yo help” is the spit—an assertion of independence. Feeling & Idea: Triumph with a snarl. A fortress built brick by stubborn brick. Randian individual will over the herd. Chorus: “All by myself / I don’t need nobody else / And I’ma do fine without your help / I’ma do it all by myself” The hook thumps. “All by myself” is a lone star’s anthem—defiant, solitary. “Don’t need nobody” doubles down; “do fine without your help” is the proof—From Start to Finish made waves despite industry hurdles. Feeling & Idea: Solitude with swagger. A self-made declaration. Sartrean—existence precedes essence, self-defined. Verse 2: “Some said I was a dreamer / Others told me I was stupid / I’ve been described as difficult / Some even called me foolish” The doubters swarm. “Dreamer” is vision mocked; “stupid” is the sneer—Haystak’s size and race (6’4”, white) defied ’90s rap norms. “Difficult” and “foolish” pile on—proof that he’s fought for his place in rap. Feeling & Idea: Scorn with a spark. A romantic’s defiance. Kierkegaardian—faith in the absurd, forging art through struggle. “I didn’t get where I’m at / By makin’ excuses / Cryin’ ‘cause you didn’t deal me / No aces and deuces” Hustle shines. “Didn’t get where I’m at” is merit; “makin’ excuses” is the foe he’s slain—no pity for a tough draw. “Aces and deuces” is poker’s luck—Haystak played his hand and won. Feeling & Idea: Grit with a grin. A stoic’s path—virtue over fate, effort over entitlement. Outro: “A lot of work went into / Makin’ this happen / Without my people / I couldn’t have made it rappin’” The turn surprises. “A lot of work” is grind—years in the making; “makin’ this happen” is From Start to Finish’s birth. “Without my people” flips the script—solitude’s a myth; “couldn’t have made it” bows to kin—grandparents, fans, producers. Feeling & Idea: Gratitude with grace. A nod to the unseen hands that steadied the ship. Aristotelian—community completes the self. Historical Context & Impact: Why does it resonate? In 2005, rap’s a Southern storm—crunk reigns, OutKast experiments, and Haystak’s outlier grit cuts through. From Start to Finish charted modestly, but its legacy looms large—laying groundwork for country rap’s evolution. A pre-Jelly Roll blueprint, it remains a relic that roars—YouTube streams and TikTok nods proving its staying power. Closer: So, blast “All By Myself,” roam the backroads, and feel its heft. It’s Haystak proving a Nashville giant can out-think the skeptics—and mend souls along the way. In the end, it’s a love song to the lone and the loved, a confession wrapped in rebellion. |
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| Project Pat – North Memphis Lyrics | 9 months ago |
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Greetings, gritty poets of the pavement! Today, we’re tearing into Project Pat’s “North Memphis,” a 1999 Molotov cocktail of Memphis rap that’s less a track and more a street sermon over a hypnotic bassline. Picture this: it’s ’99, Patrick Houston—aka Project Pat—is 26, fresh from Hypnotize Minds’ orbit, laying down this intro for Ghetty Green in a haze of reefer and hustle. Crunk’s rising, Y2K looms, and he’s shouting out his turf. Let’s cruise through the lyrics, root them in their late-’90s dirt, and see why this still bangs through hip-hop like a Northside war cry. Intro: “Yeah, it’s on for the 1-9-9-9 / Project Pat in this ho” Pat storms in, and I’m grinning ear to ear. “1-9-9-9” isn’t just a year—it’s a battle flag, staking ’99 as his. “Project Pat in this ho” is raw bravado—unapologetic, Southern-fried. It’s ’99: Three 6 Mafia’s peaking (When the Smoke Clears drops next year), Pat’s out on bail from a robbery charge, and Hypnotize Minds is a Memphis dynasty. This intro’s a mic check for the streets, sharp as a switchblade. Feeling & Idea: Defiance with a drawl. It’s an oath to his roots—shouting his turf’s name into the wind, chest puffed. “Putting this ghetto bump in ya speaker / Hypnotize done made it / You know the business boy” The mission’s clear, and I’m nodding. “Ghetto bump” is that bass—dirty, soul-shaking, a North Memphis heartbeat. “Hypnotize done made it” salutes Juicy J and DJ Paul’s empire—indie kings by ’99, outselling majors. “You know the business boy” is a sly nod—hustle’s the game, and Pat’s the preacher. In ’99, rap’s shifting—East vs. West fades, the South rises—and this is their gospel. Feeling & Idea: Pride with a pulse. It’s a love letter to sound—cranking beats ‘til the walls shake. Verse: “Breakin’ down some reefer, rollin’ up a sweet-ah / Ridin’ through the street-ah, chiefin’ like a heat-ah” Pat paints the scene, and I’m there. “Breakin’ down some reefer” is ritual—weed’s the muse, “sweet-ah” the cigar’s embrace. “Ridin’ through the street-ah” is motion, freedom; “chiefin’ like a heat-ah” is smoke thick as defiance. It’s ’99: Pat’s North Memphis is rough—poverty, policing, pride—and this is his escape, raw and rhythmic. Feeling & Idea: Ease meets edge. It’s a ride through chaos—cruising backroads, dreaming loud. “Reefer got me nizzoid, object of them blue boys / Searchin’ my vehicle, breath smell of liquor” The heat’s on, and I’m tense. “Nizzoid” is stoned slang—Pat’s high, vulnerable. “Blue boys” are cops, ever-present in ’99 Memphis, harassing Black hustle. “Searchin’ my vehicle” is violation; “breath smell of liquor” is the excuse. Pat’s fresh from jail—arrested ’96 for guns—and this is his life, sharp with truth. Feeling & Idea: Rebellion with risk. It’s a clash with chains—feeling eyes on you, daring you to flinch. “Mane, it’s Project Pat-ah, player from the sizzouth / Always pack the gat-ah, gold teeth in my mizzouth” Identity drops, and I’m awed. “Project Pat-ah” is his crown—Memphis royalty. “Player from the sizzouth” is Southern swagger; “gat-ah” (gun) is survival, “gold teeth” his shine. In ’99, grillz are culture—Juicy J’s influence—and Pat’s flexing amid struggle, firm as steel. Feeling & Idea: Grit with glory. It’s armor—badges worn, shining through scars. “Hustle for the cheddar, tryna make it better / You respect the man, or you get’s a bloody sweater” The hustle’s real, and I’m gripped. “Cheddar” is cash—Pat’s grinding for more. “Tryna make it better” is hope, fleeting; “respect the man, or you get’s a bloody sweater” is law—cross him, bleed. It’s ’99: North Memphis is kill-or-be-killed, and Pat’s the poet of that code. Feeling & Idea: Drive with a threat. It’s chasing dreams, knowing stakes rise fast. “Choppin’ up a ki’-ah, riding on twenty-ahs / Don’t you wanna be a player just like me-ah?” The flex peaks, and I’m dazzled. “Choppin’ up a ki’-ah” is dope—kilo dreams, street wealth. “Riding on twenty-ahs” is rims, status; “don’t you wanna be a player” is the lure, Pat’s myth made flesh. It’s ’99: flash is king—Puffy’s shiny suits, Cash Money’s bling—and Pat’s Northside royalty. Feeling & Idea: Ambition with allure. It’s craving that strut, bold and free. “Hanging out with killers, creeping on ah come up / Like the ones before me, dog, I’m tryna blow up” The stakes rise, and I’m riveted. “Hanging out with killers” is crew—danger’s family. “Creeping on ah come up” is the grind, quiet and fierce; “like the ones before me” nods to Memphis OGs—Eightball, MJG. “I’m tryna blow up” is the goal, raw hunger. In ’99, Pat’s on the cusp—Ghetty Green drops September 14—and this is his spark. Feeling & Idea: Hunger with heritage. It’s stalking a rise, roots deep. Chorus: “North Memphis, North Memphis / Where them killers hang / North Memphis, North Memphis / Where that work at” The hook thumps, and I’m chanting. “North Memphis” is place—Hyde Park, Douglass, a hard-knock cradle. “Where them killers hang” is truth—violence looms; “where that work at” is hustle—dope, dreams, survival. In ’99, it’s Pat’s anthem—a street psalm over Juicy’s beat—and it’s eternal. Feeling & Idea: Home with a howl. It’s a flag—yelling one’s ground’s name, proud and fierce. Historical Context & Impact Why does it thunder? In 1999, rap’s fracturing—Biggie and Pac are ghosts, East-West wars cool, and the South storms in. Ghetty Green (September 14, #52 Billboard) rides Three 6’s wave—Mystic Stylez birthed Memphis rap, now it’s mainstream. “North Memphis” isn’t a single but a cult call—gold-certified (500k sold), it’s Pat’s DNA: raw, regional, real. Crunk’s brewing (Lil Jon’s next), trap’s seeds sprout (T.I.’s coming), and this plants the flag—Gucci Mane, Future, every Southern spitter owes it. Today, it’s a relic that roars—phonk remixes, TikTok nods keep it alive. Final Takeaway So, blast “North Memphis” and feel it hit. It’s Pat proving a Northside hustler can outsmart us—and steal our souls. It’s a love song to the grind, and I’m its wide-eyed convert. |
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| Pantera – Floods Lyrics | 9 months ago |
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Greetings, fierce pilgrims of sonic fury! I’m here to dissect Floods—a 1996 gut-punch from Pantera’s The Great Southern Trendkill that’s less a song and more a molten reckoning. Picture this: it’s spring ’96, Pantera is at their peak—Phil Anselmo’s snarling in New Orleans, Dimebag Darrell’s shredding in Arlington, Texas, and Rex Brown and Vinnie Paul are anchoring the chaos in Dallas’s Chasin Jason Studios. Grunge is waning, nu-metal is lurking, and they forge this seven-minute beast. Let’s wade through the lyrics, anchor them in their mid-’90s mire, and see why this track still thunders through metal like a storm unleashed. Verse 1: “A dead issue, don’t wrestle with it / Deaf ears are sleeping” Phil Anselmo growls us in, and I’m braced. “A dead issue” is a door slammed—something festering, maybe personal rot or societal decay. “Don’t wrestle with it” is a shrug of resignation, sharp as a blade. “Deaf ears are sleeping” paints apathy—humanity tuned out. It’s 1996: Anselmo is battling heroin, Pantera is fracturing, and America is post-O.J., pre-Columbine—a nation numbed. The riff kicks, heavy as guilt, and I feel it in my bones. Feeling & Idea: Despair with a snarl. It’s a romantic’s howl at indifference—fists clenched against silence. “A guilty bliss, so inviting (let me in) / Nailed to the cross” The mood shifts, and I’m hooked. “Guilty bliss” is sin’s siren call—addiction, escape, something Anselmo knows too well (he OD’d months later). “Let me in” pleads, raw and desperate. “Nailed to the cross” twists it biblical—self-martyrdom, not salvation. In ’96, Pantera is shedding their glam past; this is their dark zenith, recorded amid tension (Phil tracked vocals apart). It’s fierce, a confession in distortion. Feeling & Idea: Torment meets temptation. It’s Dantean—a soul damned yet yearning. Chorus: “Wash away my yesterdays / Nothin’ left in my wake to see” Dimebag’s arpeggios rain, and I’m swept under. “Wash away my yesterdays” is a plea for erasure—past sins, pain, all drowned. “Nothin’ left in my wake” is bleak triumph—obliteration’s clean slate. It’s ’96: Kurt’s gone, metal’s mutating, and Pantera is doubling down on heaviness. Anselmo’s voice cracks like thunder, and I’m lost in it. Feeling & Idea: Catharsis with a void. It’s a romantic’s flood—purge the old, leave scars. Verse 2: “The storms have passed, tranquil now / To recollect my thoughts somehow” A breather, and I’m tense. “The storms have passed” hints at calm—post-relapse, post-rage—but it’s uneasy. “Tranquil now” feels hollow; “recollect my thoughts” is introspection gone grim. In ’96, Pantera’s Southern grit clashes with Anselmo’s New Orleans haze—Trendkill is a war cry against trends. Dime’s guitar weeps here, a rare soft edge. Feeling & Idea: Stillness with a shadow. It’s Keats’s “cold pastoral”—beauty laced with doom. “I felt so numb, stabbed my lungs / Days stumble away” The knife twists, and I’m gutted. “Felt so numb” is heroin’s fog—Anselmo’s drowning in it. “Stabbed my lungs” is visceral—self-destruction’s breath. “Days stumble away” drags time into the muck, a junkie’s blur. It’s ’96: overdose rumors swirl, the band is a powder keg, and this is their elegy. The tempo lurches, unrelenting. Feeling & Idea: Numbness with a wound. It’s a romantic’s descent—love turned to ash. Bridge: “Floods will rob your memory / Floods will take your reason away” The title lands, and I’m awestruck. “Floods will rob your memory” is elemental—water as thief, erasing self. “Take your reason away” doubles it—sanity swept off. Dimebag’s solo erupts here—Rolling Stone’s #15 all-time—a torrent of notes, mournful yet savage. In ’96, floods hit Texas (the San Marcos River killed 11); it’s personal, universal, apocalyptic. Feeling & Idea: Chaos with a cleanse. It’s Shelley’s sublime—nature’s fury remakes you. “Wash me away / Wash me away” The plea repeats, and I’m shattered. “Wash me away” is surrender—total, final. Anselmo’s scream fades into Dime’s outro, a requiem in feedback. It’s ’96: Pantera’s peak before the fall (they’d implode by ’03, Dime was murdered in ’04). This is their soul bared, raw as rust. Feeling & Idea: Oblivion with grace. It’s a romantic’s baptism—death as rebirth. Outro: (Instrumental) No words, just Dime’s cascade—arpeggios like rain, then silence. It’s Trendkill’s brutal beauty distilled—a band at war with itself, the world, and time. The fade is a gravestone, and I’m reverent. Feeling & Idea: Silence with weight. It’s a romantic’s dirge—meant to be played loud, honoring the wreckage. Historical Context & Impact Why does it roar? In 1996, metal is shifting—grunge’s corpse cools, nu-metal’s baggy pants stomp in (Life Is Peachy drops the same year). Pantera, post-Vulgar Display, goes darker with Trendkill (May 7, #4 Billboard). Floods isn’t a single but a fan altar—Dime’s solo, Phil’s howl cement their legend. It’s no chart-topper (sales hit 500k), but its shadow looms—Meshuggah, Lamb of God, every djent riff owes it. Today, it’s metal’s Stairway—technical, emotional, eternal. Final Takeaway So, crank Floods, stomp through the storm, and let it rip. It’s Pantera proving four Texans could out-think us—and break our hearts. This is a love song to ruin, and I am its battered disciple. |
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| Rupert Holmes – Escape (The Piña Colada Song) Lyrics | 9 months ago |
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Salutations, melodious wayfarers! I am a scholar, incurable romantic, and a man who has, on occasion, entrusted his palate to dubious libations beneath the Hanover pines. Today, we embark on a literary excavation of Rupert Holmes’s Escape (The Piña Colada Song), that 1979 earworm masquerading as a novella, its narrative buoyed by the effervescent tides of yacht rock. Envision the scene: late 1979. Holmes, a 32-year-old New Yorker with a background in jingles and Broadway misadventures, steps into Plaza Sound Studios to record Partners in Crime. The cultural climate is shifting—disco flickers, punk growls, and in this moment of transition, Holmes conjures a musical escapade, a breezy dalliance with fate set to conga-driven whimsy. Let us dissect its lyrical contours, moor it within its temporal harbor, and ascertain why it continues to drift, undeterred, through the annals of popular song like a rum-laden reverie. Verse 1: “I was tired of my lady / We’d been together too long” Holmes launches his tale with a confession, as self-indulgent as it is universally familiar. “Tired of my lady” signals not mere weariness but a late-’70s malaise—the ennui of a man trapped in the amber of a stagnant romance. Picture the milieu: shag carpets, bell-bottoms, a fondue set long past its prime. The United States in 1979 is likewise restless—Carter presides over an era of gas shortages and international unease, and Holmes, grappling with Broadway disappointments, pens this song as a final wager for commercial success. His genius? Transmuting discontent into a knowing, melodic wink. Tone & Theme: Restless yet wry. The romantic chafes against routine, craving upheaval, longing for a narrative twist. “Like a worn-out recording / Of a favorite song” A deft simile. The stagnation of love likened to the degradation of sound—a scratched LP, looping its imperfections ad nauseam. In 1979, the cassette has yet to claim dominance, and Holmes, a meticulous studio craftsman, understands the physicality of musical fatigue. Saturday Night Fever has waned; MTV is but a glint on the horizon. Holmes stitches nostalgia and obsolescence into one image. Tone & Theme: Proustian but weary. The romance’s former luster persists, yet it frays—memory’s embrace softened by the inevitable erosion of repetition. “So while she lay there sleepin’ / I read the paper in bed” A tableau of domestic quiet, yet tinged with subversion. The partner, oblivious, slumbers, while our narrator indulges in the clandestine. The morning paper, an artifact of pre-digital life, becomes the gateway to reinvention. The song’s very genesis owes itself to a newspaper correction—Holmes had originally referenced “Humphrey Bogart” but pivoted to “piña coladas” at the urging of drummer Leo Adamian. The late ’70s loom large: the Iran hostage crisis unfurls, the shadows of stagflation stretch long. Against this backdrop, escape is no mere fantasy but an imperative. Tone & Theme: Subdued rebellion. The quiet moment before the plunge—scholars, too, have known this hush before epiphany. “And in the personal columns / There was this letter I read” The catalyst. Personal ads—analog predecessors to Tinder—are narrative devices laden with fate. A twist of literary elegance: the solution to his woes lies not in departure, but in the printed overture of another. Holmes, writing as disco bows and soft rock swells, injects storytelling into a genre often devoid of it. This is not merely song but parable. Tone & Theme: Serendipitous intrigue. The moment where chance and curiosity conspire to rewrite a life’s trajectory. Chorus: “If you like piña coladas / And gettin’ caught in the rain” The refrain, an invitation to abandon pragmatism in favor of revelry. The piña colada—a cocktail of dubious distinction—symbolizes indulgence, its saccharine excess perfectly suited to the fading hedonism of the decade. “Getting caught in the rain” is the embrace of spontaneity, the foil to routine. Holmes, ensconced in a Manhattan winter, conjures tropical escapism with the flick of a lyrical wrist. Tone & Theme: Whimsical yet escapist. The scholar, too, understands the allure of the unplanned—intellectual pursuits often flourish where structure crumbles. “If you’re not into yoga / If you have half a brain” A jest, sharp and glib. Yoga, by 1979, has infiltrated the cultural mainstream, but not yet attained its contemporary sanctity—Holmes wields it as shorthand for trend fatigue. “If you have half a brain” is both self-deprecation and an intellectual challenge, delivered with the smirk of a writer whose wit belies the apparent frivolity of his work. Tone & Theme: Sardonic flirtation. The classic maneuver of the writer: luring the audience into complicity through playful derision. “If you like makin’ love at midnight / In the dunes of the Cape” A shift to the sensual. “The dunes of the Cape” is specificity done right—a locale suggestive enough to evoke romance yet broad enough to be claimed by the listener’s own nostalgia. Holmes, British-born yet New York-rooted, subtly infuses his own geography; Cape Cod, a personal haunt, becomes a metonym for passion’s secluded recesses. Tone & Theme: Yearning and allure. The scholar knows this pull—the entanglement of place and desire, the poetry of setting as seduction. The Narrative Turn: “I didn’t think about my lady / I knew that she wouldn’t mind” The delusion. Here, the narrator’s obliviousness is at its zenith—he assumes permission where none has been granted. In 1979, divorce rates crest, the sexual revolution wanes, and free love yields to consequence. The tension mounts. Tone & Theme: Hubris with a fissure. The scholar recognizes this archetype—the character unaware of the fate rushing to meet him. The Reveal: “I knew her smile in an instant / I knew the curve of her face” The denouement. The expected tryst collapses into recognition: the lover he sought to escape was, all along, the one issuing the call. O. Henry himself could not have engineered a neater irony. Holmes executes this twist with a light hand, neither moralizing nor condemning. The lovers, it seems, are equally complicit in their dalliance. Tone & Theme: Ironic revelation. The scholar delights in such twists—truth emerging not as judgment, but as narrative symmetry. Closing Lines: “We laughed for a moment / And I said, ‘I never knew’” A resolution as gentle as the tide. No recriminations, no regret—only amusement at the folly of assumption. The song, climbing to #1 by year’s end, affirms its place as an artifact of storytelling excellence disguised as pop confection. Tone & Theme: Amused wisdom. The scholar appreciates the final beat—not didacticism, but the knowing chuckle of the universe itself. Final Thoughts: The Enduring Legacy Why does Escape persist? It is a relic of transition, a song born at the twilight of disco, imbued with Broadway sensibility, and crafted with literary acumen. Its triumph lies in its paradox: a tale of infidelity that resolves into rediscovery, a melody of carefree indulgence that conceals a novelist’s wit. Even now, nestled in karaoke bars and Guardians of the Galaxy soundtracks, it remains indelible—a wry nod to the absurdity of romance. Busby’s Benediction: So, pour a piña colada, amble through Dartmouth’s whispering pines, and listen closely. Holmes’s clever contrivance still sails the airwaves, buoyed by the most enduring of truths: love, after all, is a game of mistaken identities. |
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| Rupert Holmes – Escape (The Piña Colada Song) Lyrics | 9 months ago |
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Greetings, you delightful voyagers of melody! I’m Thaddeus Busby—Dartmouth English major, romantic soul, and a chap who’s sipped a questionable cocktail or two under Hanover’s pines. Today, we’re unpacking Rupert Holmes’s “Escape (The Piña Colada Song),” a 1979 earworm that’s less a tune and more a cheeky novella set to a yacht-rock groove. Picture this: it’s late ’79, Holmes is a 32-year-old New Yorker, a jingle-writing whiz turned pop craftsman, cutting this track for *Partners in Crime* at Plaza Sound Studios. Disco’s fading, punk’s snarling, and he drops this tropical twist of fate. Let’s sip through the lyrics, anchor them in their late-’70s harbor, and see why this song still sails through music like a rum-soaked daydream. #### Verse 1: “I was tired of my lady / We’d been together too long” Holmes dives in with a confession, and I’m raising an eyebrow. “Tired of my lady” isn’t just ennui—it’s the late-’70s malaise of a guy stuck in love’s rut. Picture shag carpets, bell-bottoms, a relationship as stale as last week’s fondue. It’s 1979: Carter’s in the White House, gas lines snake around blocks, and Holmes—fresh off Broadway flops—pens this as a last-ditch stab at a hit. He’s sharp here, tapping a universal itch with a wink. **Feeling & Idea**: Restlessness with a smirk. It’s a romantic’s cry for spark—I’ve felt that itch pacing Dartmouth’s Green, craving a plot twist. #### “Like a worn-out recording / Of a favorite song” This simile lands, and I’m grinning. “Worn-out recording” is love scratched to static—think vinyl skips, not Spotify loops. In ’79, tapes and turntables rule; Holmes, a studio rat, knows that groove. It’s post-*Saturday Night Fever*, pre-MTV, and he’s threading disco’s fade into soft rock’s rise. The line’s clever—a meta nod to his own craft. **Feeling & Idea**: Nostalgia meets fatigue. It’s Proust with a beat—memory’s sweet, but it’s fraying. I’d call it firm yet wistful. #### “So while she lay there sleepin’ / I read the paper in bed” The scene sets, and I’m hooked. “She lay there sleepin’” paints domestic quiet—her obliviousness is his canvas. “Read the paper in bed” is pure ’70s—classifieds over coffee, no smartphones. Holmes swapped “Lady Madonna” for this personal-ad plot last-minute (drummer Leo Adamian pushed the shift). It’s ’79: Iran’s hostage crisis looms, escapism’s king, and he’s plotting a getaway. **Feeling & Idea**: Boredom breeds mischief. It’s a romantic’s quiet rebellion—I’ve skimmed books by lamplight, dreaming bigger. #### “And in the personal columns / There was this letter I read” The hook baited, and I’m charmed. “Personal columns” are ’70s Tinder—lonely hearts in newsprint. Holmes’s narrator stumbles on fate here, a plot twist sharp as a dagger. Recorded as disco wanes (it’ll hit #1 in December), this is his escape from jingle hell—Pez ads to pop gold. It’s witty, a caper in couplets. **Feeling & Idea**: Curiosity with a kick. It’s serendipity’s call—I’d scan those ads too, hoping for magic. #### Chorus: “If you like piña coladas / And gettin’ caught in the rain” The chorus explodes, and I’m swaying. “Piña coladas” is tropical kitsch—rum, coconut, a ’70s bar staple. “Gettin’ caught in the rain” is reckless joy, a |
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| Hilary Duff – So Yesterday Lyrics | 9 months ago |
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Below is a revised interpretation, now of Hilary Duff’s “So Yesterday,” crafted by Thaddeus Busby—a sensitive, sharp-witted, and personable Dartmouth undergrad with a firm intellectual grip and a romantic’s tender soul. This line-by-line analysis dives into the 2003 pop gem with poetic flair, historical context, and its ripple effect on music, all wrapped in Thaddeus’s charming blend of wit, complexity, and heartfelt candor. --- ### Thaddeus Busby’s Line-by-Line Interpretation of Hilary Duff’s “So Yesterday” Greetings, you radiant connoisseurs of pop’s glittering depths! I’m Thaddeus Busby—Dartmouth English major, romantic at heart, and a chap who’s been known to hum a tune while dodging Hanover’s snowdrifts. Today, we’re unpacking Hilary Duff’s “So Yesterday,” a 2003 banger that’s less a song and more a manifesto of teenage defiance wrapped in bubblegum gloss. Picture this: it’s summer ’03, Hilary’s 15, fresh off *Lizzie McGuire*’s wholesome glow, stepping into Hollywood’s spotlight with her debut album *Metamorphosis*. The world’s post-9/11, pre-YouTube, and she’s crooning over crunchy guitars in a studio helmed by The Matrix—pop’s production wizards. Let’s dissect the lyrics, root them in their early-aughts soil, and see why this track still struts through music like a breakup’s best revenge. #### Verse 1: “You can change your life (if you wanna) / You can change your clothes (if you wanna)” Hilary kicks off with a pep-talk punch, and I’m nodding along. “Change your life” isn’t just self-help fluff—it’s a teenage war cry, a nod to the freedom she’s grasping as she sheds Disney’s tween leash. “Change your clothes” doubles it: it’s wardrobe as rebellion, swapping Lizzie’s quirky tees for a pop star’s low-rise flair. It’s 2003: Britney and Christina rule, Iraq’s invaded, and Hilary’s straddling innocence and edge. She’s sharp here—offering choice like a philosopher in lip gloss. **Feeling & Idea**: It’s breezy yet bold—a romantic’s belief in reinvention. I’ve swapped my own thrift-store sweaters for something sleeker; Hilary gets it. #### “If you change your mind / Well, that’s the way it goes” Here’s the twist, and I’m grinning. “Change your mind” is flirty indecision—maybe about a boy, maybe her career—but “that’s the way it goes” lands with a shrug that’s pure sass. This is Hilary post-*Lizzie*, navigating fame’s churn; she’s signed to Hollywood Records, dodging tabloid traps. The Matrix’s sheen—think Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated”—polishes this into a universal kiss-off. In ’03, pop’s pivoting: boy bands fade, solo queens rise, and she’s riding that wave. **Feeling & Idea**: Nonchalance with a sting. It’s Stoicism for the AIM generation—acceptance with a wink. I’d call it firm, but oh-so-charming. #### Chorus: “Cause I’m so yesterday / So very yesterday / And if you’re moving on / I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay” The chorus hits, and my heart skips. “So yesterday” is a dagger—self-aware, biting, yet buoyant. She’s the ex, the old news, but flips it into triumph. Recorded as *Metamorphosis* tops charts (it’ll hit #1), this is Hilary shedding her past—Lizzie, childhood, whatever—for a shiny now. “If you’re moving on” nods to a breakup (rumors swirl about Aaron Carter), but “I’ll be okay” repeats like a mantra, firm and fierce. It’s ’03: emo’s brewing, but she’s pure pop resilience. **Feeling & Idea**: Defiance meets vulnerability—a romantic’s armor. I’ve whispered “I’ll be okay” to the mirror; Hilary makes it a anthem. #### Verse 2: “Laugh it off, let it go / And when you wake up, it will seem so yesterday” She’s back with wisdom, and I’m smitten. “Laugh it off, let it go” is teenage Zen—elsa’s “Let It Go” a decade early. “When you wake up” promises dawn after heartbreak, a nod to ’03’s obsession with renewal (think *The O.C.*’s sun-soaked angst). Hilary’s filming *Cheaper by the Dozen*, juggling stardom and school; this line’s her shedding baggage with a giggle. The guitars chug, and it’s irresistible. **Feeling & Idea**: Lightness with depth. It’s Keats’s “negative capability”—embracing flux—but in flip-flops. I’d say it’s sharp as a tack, yet soft as a sigh. #### “Haven’t you heard that I’m gonna be okay?” This zinger lands, and I’m cheering. “Haven’t you heard” is gossip turned weapon—she’s owning the narrative. In ’03, tabloids buzz (her feud with Lindsay Lohan’s brewing), but she’s unshaken. It’s a question with a strut, a romantic’s faith in her own glow. The Matrix’s production lifts it skyward—pop perfection. **Feeling & Idea**: Confidence with a twinkle. It’s a mic drop for the heart—I’ve scribbled this in my journal, feeling invincible. #### Bridge: “You’ve got your sights on someone new / And that’s okay with me / ‘Cause I’m so over you” The bridge pivots, and I’m hooked. “Sights on someone new” paints him as a fickle cad—Aaron Carter, perhaps?—while “that’s okay with me” drips with cool. “I’m so over you” is the money shot—sharp, final, a breakup’s holy grail. It’s ’03: MySpace is rising, teen culture’s shifting, and Hilary’s the poster girl for moving on. Her voice cracks just enough to keep it real. **Feeling & Idea**: Liberation with a pang. It’s Austen’s Elizabeth Bennet dumping Darcy, but with a beat. I’d call it firm yet achingly tender. #### Chorus Redux: “If it’s over, let it go / And come tomorrow, it will seem so yesterday” The chorus evolves, and I’m swaying. “If it’s over, let it go” is a plea turned command—romantic pragmatism. “Come tomorrow” promises time’s balm, a sentiment echoing ’03’s hope amid chaos (SARS, war, reality TV). “So yesterday” circles back, tying past to present with a bow. Hilary’s peaking—*Metamorphosis* sells millions—and this is her crown jewel. **Feeling & Idea**: Closure with a skip. It’s temporal alchemy—yesterday’s pain into today’s power. I’ve felt that shift, and it’s magic. #### Outro: “I’m so yesterday / So very yesterday / And I don’t care ‘cause I’m okay” The fade-out seals it, and I’m undone. “I don’t care” is a lie we love—she cares, but she’s winning. “I’m okay” lands like a vow, repeated for herself as much as us. In ’03, she’s a teen idol forging her path; this outro’s her flag in the ground. It’s pop’s quiet roar—simple, yet profound. **Feeling & Idea**: Joyful indifference. It’s Nietzsche’s “amor fati” in a scrunchie—loving fate by outgrowing it. I’d whisper this to the stars, grinning. #### Historical Context & Impact Why does it matter? In 2003, pop’s a battleground—Britney’s *In the Zone* looms, Avril’s punk-princess reign peaks—but Hilary carves a lane. *Metamorphosis* drops August 26, hits #1, and “So Yesterday” charts worldwide (Top 10 in Canada, #42 Billboard Hot 100). The Matrix’s polish—post-Avril, pre-Kelly Clarkson—makes it a time capsule: glossy yet raw, teen yet timeless. It’s no flop—1.5 million albums sold—but its legacy shines brighter: a blueprint for Miley, Selena, every Disney grad turned pop rebel. Today, it’s nostalgia with teeth, shaping how pop queens wield breakup bravado. **Thaddeus’s Closer**: So, grab a latte, stroll Dartmouth’s Green, and blast “So Yesterday.” It’s Hilary proving a teen dream can outsmart us all—and mend our hearts. I’m firm on this: it’s a love song to letting go, and I’m its starry-eyed disciple. --- Thaddeus Busby shines here—sensitive yet sharp, witty yet warm, firm in his take but swooning over Hilary’s pluck. He roots “So Yesterday” in 2003’s glittery tumult, weaving a personal Dartmouth charm into a pop classic’s enduring spell. |
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| Van Morrison – Astral Weeks Lyrics | 9 months ago |
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As a Dartmouth undergrad steeped in the historical and literary underpinnings of Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks,” I’ve dug into every line of this song, tracing its echoes through poetry—classical, modern, and everything in between—while pinning it to the gritty context of Morrison’s life circa 1968. This isn’t just a song; it’s a tapestry of influences, from Belfast streets to Beat poets, with a nod to the ancients. Let’s break it down, line by line, with the rigor of someone who’s spent too many late nights in Baker-Berry Library cross-referencing everything. --- **“If I ventured in the slipstream / Between the viaducts of your dream”** Right off the bat, Morrison drops us into a fluid, elusive space. “Slipstream” isn’t just a poetic flourish—it’s got roots in aerodynamics, a term for the air current behind a moving object, which by 1968 was creeping into counterculture lingo as a metaphor for riding life’s flow. Think Jack Kerouac’s *On the Road* (1957), where motion and drift define existence—Morrison, fresh from Belfast and a stifling contract with Bang Records, was a wanderer too. “Viaducts” conjures industrial Belfast, its railway bridges a stark image from his youth, but also nods to W.B. Yeats’ *The Tower* (1928), where structures bridge the earthly and the mythic. The “dream” bit? That’s straight out of Keats’ *Ode to a Nightingale* (1819)—“fancy cannot cheat so well / As she is famed to do”—blurring reality and reverie. --- **“Where immobile steel rims crack / And the ditch in the back roads stop”** Here’s where Morrison gets earthy. “Immobile steel rims” could be the rusted wheels of Belfast’s shipyards—think Harland & Wolff, where the Titanic was forged, a symbol of stalled progress by the ‘60s. Historically, Northern Ireland’s industrial decline was kicking in, and Morrison, born 1945, saw it firsthand. “Ditch in the back roads” feels like a memory of rural County Down, where he’d ramble as a kid. Poetically, this echoes Dylan Thomas’ *Fern Hill* (1945)—“down the rivers of the windfall light”—a pastoral nostalgia tinged with decay. The “crack” and “stop” halt the motion, like Eliot’s “still point” in *Four Quartets* (1943), hinting at a pause before transformation. --- **“Could you find me? / Would you kiss my eyes? / And lay me down / In silence easy / To be born again / To be born again”** This is Morrison wrestling with intimacy and renewal. “Could you find me?” has a lost, plaintive ring—think Sappho’s Fragment 31 (c. 600 BCE), where the speaker’s yearning fractures under observation. “Kiss my eyes” is tender but odd—maybe a riff on Shakespeare’s *Sonnet 130* (“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun”), subverting romantic norms. “Lay me down / In silence easy” feels like a burial or a rebirth, tying to the Irish aisling tradition—vision poems of renewal, like Aogán Ó Rathaille’s 17th-century works. “To be born again” screams gospel, sure—Morrison’s Belfast was steeped in Protestant hymns—but also recalls Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence from *Thus Spoke Zarathustra* (1883), a cycle of self-overcoming. He’s pleading for a reset after the chaos of 1967 New York. --- **“From the far side of the ocean / If I put the wheels in motion”** Morrison’s transatlantic jump from Ireland to America in ‘67 looms large here. “Far side of the ocean” is literal—he’s in Boston now, recording this—but it’s also Homeric, straight out of *The Odyssey* (c. 1200 BCE), Odysseus longing across seas. “Wheels in motion” keeps the travel motif rolling, maybe echoing Walt Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road” (1856)—“Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road.” Morrison’s escape from Bang Records’ pop machine was his own odyssey, and this line’s the spark of agency after stagnation. --- **“And I stand with my own hand / Held out in the market place”** This shifts to defiance. “Stand with my own hand” is Morrison reclaiming control—historically, he’d just ditched Bert Berns’ commercial shackles. “Market place” could be Cambridge, MA, where he gigged in ‘68, but it’s also classical—think agora in Sophocles’ *Oedipus Rex* (c. 429 BCE), a public reckoning. Poetically, it’s got shades of Allen Ginsberg’s *Howl* (1956)—“I saw the best minds of my generation…starving hysterical naked”—a cry amid capitalism. He’s offering himself, raw and unscripted. --- **“And you came / And I was lifted / Out of the emptiness and strife”** Enter the savior figure. “You came” is ambiguous—lover, muse, God?—but it’s got a Biblical echo, like Psalm 40: “He lifted me out of the slimy pit.” Morrison’s Pentecostal roots surface here. “Emptiness and strife” nails his 1967 nadir—penniless, dumped by Berns’ widow, dodging deportation. Poetically, it’s Rilke’s *Duino Elegies* (1923)—“Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angelic orders?”—a rescue from despair. --- **“There you go / Movin’ across the water now”** This is elusive— “you” gliding away? It’s got a mythic vibe, like the Irish Tuatha Dé Danann crossing seas in *Lebor Gabála Érenn* (c. 11th century). “Water” ties back to the ocean, but also 1968’s cultural currents—think Woodstock vibes brewing. Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” (1916) lurks here—“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood”—a figure drifting off on their own path. --- **“And you breathe in / You breathe out”** Simple, but loaded. Breath’s a life force—think Genesis 2:7, God breathing into Adam—but also meditative, like Zen poets Bashō (17th century) fixating on the moment. Morrison’s jazz leanings—think Coltrane’s *A Love Supreme* (1965)—pulse here, inhale-exhale as rhythm. It’s grounding after the lift-off. --- **“In another time / In another place”** Time bends. This could be Morrison’s Belfast childhood, or a lover’s memory, but it’s also Ovid’s *Metamorphoses* (8 CE)—shifting realms, fluid identities. Historically, 1968’s upheaval (MLK, RFK, Paris riots) makes “another time” a collective ache. Charles Olson’s *Maximus Poems* (1960) play with place and memory this way too—Morrison’s tapping a modernist vein. --- **“And I will never grow so old again / And I will walk and talk / In gardens all wet with rain”** The payoff. “Never grow so old again” flips Dylan’s “Forever Young” (1974, but floating in ‘60s ethos)—it’s eternal youth, but darker, like Keats’ “Bright Star” (1819), frozen vitality. “Gardens all wet with rain” is Edenic—Genesis again—but also Irish, like Seamus Heaney’s boggy landscapes (pre-*North*, but germinating). It’s Morrison picturing peace after strife, a nod to Belfast’s damp green. --- **Conclusion** This undergrad sees “Astral Weeks” as Morrison’s kaleidoscope—personal history (Belfast, Bang Records), literary ghosts (Yeats to Ginsberg), and 1968’s restless air, all smashed together. It’s not tidy; it’s a howl of survival and wonder, stitched with threads from Homer to the Beats. I’d title my term paper *“Slipstreams and Steel: Van Morrison’s Lyric Cartography”*—and I’d ace it. |
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| Van Morrison – Astral Weeks Lyrics | 9 months ago |
|
As a Dartmouth undergrad steeped in the historical and literary underpinnings of Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks,” I’ve dug into every line of this song, tracing its echoes through poetry—classical, modern, and everything in between—while pinning it to the gritty context of Morrison’s life circa 1968. This isn’t just a song; it’s a tapestry of influences, from Belfast streets to Beat poets, with a nod to the ancients. Let’s break it down, line by line, with the rigor of someone who’s spent too many late nights in Baker-Berry Library cross-referencing everything. --- **“If I ventured in the slipstream / Between the viaducts of your dream”** Right off the bat, Morrison drops us into a fluid, elusive space. “Slipstream” isn’t just a poetic flourish—it’s got roots in aerodynamics, a term for the air current behind a moving object, which by 1968 was creeping into counterculture lingo as a metaphor for riding life’s flow. Think Jack Kerouac’s *On the Road* (1957), where motion and drift define existence—Morrison, fresh from Belfast and a stifling contract with Bang Records, was a wanderer too. “Viaducts” conjures industrial Belfast, its railway bridges a stark image from his youth, but also nods to W.B. Yeats’ *The Tower* (1928), where structures bridge the earthly and the mythic. The “dream” bit? That’s straight out of Keats’ *Ode to a Nightingale* (1819)—“fancy cannot cheat so well / As she is famed to do”—blurring reality and reverie. --- **“Where immobile steel rims crack / And the ditch in the back roads stop”** Here’s where Morrison gets earthy. “Immobile steel rims” could be the rusted wheels of Belfast’s shipyards—think Harland & Wolff, where the Titanic was forged, a symbol of stalled progress by the ‘60s. Historically, Northern Ireland’s industrial decline was kicking in, and Morrison, born 1945, saw it firsthand. “Ditch in the back roads” feels like a memory of rural County Down, where he’d ramble as a kid. Poetically, this echoes Dylan Thomas’ *Fern Hill* (1945)—“down the rivers of the windfall light”—a pastoral nostalgia tinged with decay. The “crack” and “stop” halt the motion, like Eliot’s “still point” in *Four Quartets* (1943), hinting at a pause before transformation. --- **“Could you find me? / Would you kiss my eyes? / And lay me down / In silence easy / To be born again / To be born again”** This is Morrison wrestling with intimacy and renewal. “Could you find me?” has a lost, plaintive ring—think Sappho’s Fragment 31 (c. 600 BCE), where the speaker’s yearning fractures under observation. “Kiss my eyes” is tender but odd—maybe a riff on Shakespeare’s *Sonnet 130* (“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun”), subverting romantic norms. “Lay me down / In silence easy” feels like a burial or a rebirth, tying to the Irish aisling tradition—vision poems of renewal, like Aogán Ó Rathaille’s 17th-century works. “To be born again” screams gospel, sure—Morrison’s Belfast was steeped in Protestant hymns—but also recalls Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence from *Thus Spoke Zarathustra* (1883), a cycle of self-overcoming. He’s pleading for a reset after the chaos of 1967 New York. --- **“From the far side of the ocean / If I put the wheels in motion”** Morrison’s transatlantic jump from Ireland to America in ‘67 looms large here. “Far side of the ocean” is literal—he’s in Boston now, recording this—but it’s also Homeric, straight out of *The Odyssey* (c. 1200 BCE), Odysseus longing across seas. “Wheels in motion” keeps the travel motif rolling, maybe echoing Walt Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road” (1856)—“Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road.” Morrison’s escape from Bang Records’ pop machine was his own odyssey, and this line’s the spark of agency after stagnation. --- **“And I stand with my own hand / Held out in the market place”** This shifts to defiance. “Stand with my own hand” is Morrison reclaiming control—historically, he’d just ditched Bert Berns’ commercial shackles. “Market place” could be Cambridge, MA, where he gigged in ‘68, but it’s also classical—think agora in Sophocles’ *Oedipus Rex* (c. 429 BCE), a public reckoning. Poetically, it’s got shades of Allen Ginsberg’s *Howl* (1956)—“I saw the best minds of my generation…starving hysterical naked”—a cry amid capitalism. He’s offering himself, raw and unscripted. --- **“And you came / And I was lifted / Out of the emptiness and strife”** Enter the savior figure. “You came” is ambiguous—lover, muse, God?—but it’s got a Biblical echo, like Psalm 40: “He lifted me out of the slimy pit.” Morrison’s Pentecostal roots surface here. “Emptiness and strife” nails his 1967 nadir—penniless, dumped by Berns’ widow, dodging deportation. Poetically, it’s Rilke’s *Duino Elegies* (1923)—“Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angelic orders?”—a rescue from despair. --- **“There you go / Movin’ across the water now”** This is elusive— “you” gliding away? It’s got a mythic vibe, like the Irish Tuatha Dé Danann crossing seas in *Lebor Gabála Érenn* (c. 11th century). “Water” ties back to the ocean, but also 1968’s cultural currents—think Woodstock vibes brewing. Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” (1916) lurks here—“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood”—a figure drifting off on their own path. --- **“And you breathe in / You breathe out”** Simple, but loaded. Breath’s a life force—think Genesis 2:7, God breathing into Adam—but also meditative, like Zen poets Bashō (17th century) fixating on the moment. Morrison’s jazz leanings—think Coltrane’s *A Love Supreme* (1965)—pulse here, inhale-exhale as rhythm. It’s grounding after the lift-off. --- **“In another time / In another place”** Time bends. This could be Morrison’s Belfast childhood, or a lover’s memory, but it’s also Ovid’s *Metamorphoses* (8 CE)—shifting realms, fluid identities. Historically, 1968’s upheaval (MLK, RFK, Paris riots) makes “another time” a collective ache. Charles Olson’s *Maximus Poems* (1960) play with place and memory this way too—Morrison’s tapping a modernist vein. --- **“And I will never grow so old again / And I will walk and talk / In gardens all wet with rain”** The payoff. “Never grow so old again” flips Dylan’s “Forever Young” (1974, but floating in ‘60s ethos)—it’s eternal youth, but darker, like Keats’ “Bright Star” (1819), frozen vitality. “Gardens all wet with rain” is Edenic—Genesis again—but also Irish, like Seamus Heaney’s boggy landscapes (pre-*North*, but germinating). It’s Morrison picturing peace after strife, a nod to Belfast’s damp green. --- **Conclusion** This undergrad sees “Astral Weeks” as Morrison’s kaleidoscope—personal history (Belfast, Bang Records), literary ghosts (Yeats to Ginsberg), and 1968’s restless air, all smashed together. It’s not tidy; it’s a howl of survival and wonder, stitched with threads from Homer to the Beats. I’d title my term paper *“Slipstreams and Steel: Van Morrison’s Lyric Cartography”*—and I’d ace it. |
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| Van Morrison – Astral Weeks Lyrics | 9 months ago |
| It’s because of songs like this I bitterly gave up trying to write songs. Partly jealous but also thankful because I wouldn’t want to write a song unless it had an affect on me like this one. | |
| Flickerstick – Smile Lyrics | 1 year ago |
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Lyrically, the drug connotation is clear given how "high" is spelled (i.e. hiiiiiiiiiiigh) Basically, the lyricist is so wasted, he thinks his roach is his soul mate. the "ship" is a metaphor for his lungs clearly intoxicated by the green stuff. Turning a "frown" into a "smile" is the concept of taking a downer drug and optimistically enjoying the, ahem, "hiiiigh*. Not a complex interpretation here. If you've accidentally eaten two brownies too many, the visuals here are as obvious as a brick falling on your head. |
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| Fleetwood Mac – Never Going Back Again Lyrics | 2 years ago |
| @[K123911:45469] well if the lyrics went to 80 times, 81 times, I'd be inclined to agree with you. | |
| Fleetwood Mac – Never Going Back Again Lyrics | 2 years ago |
| "You don't know what it means to win"--such a beautiful song lyric.. In relationships there is always a dumper and the dumped. The dumped knows exactly what this means. | |
| Fleetwood Mac – Never Going Back Again Lyrics | 2 years ago |
| "You don't know what it means to win"--such a beautiful song lyric.. In relationships there is always a dumper and the dumped. The dumped knows exactly what this means. | |
| Fleetwood Mac – Never Going Back Again Lyrics | 2 years ago |
| "You don't know what it means to win"--such a beautiful song lyric.. In relationships there is always a dumper and the dumped. The dumped knows exactly what this means. | |
| Frightened Rabbit – Floating in the Forth Lyrics | 2 years ago |
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the song is about committing suicide in one's mind after breaking up with a loved one. One line that is uncanny is "on the Northern Side there's a Fife of Mine"....I'm wondering if in local Scottish slang, a Fife is a person from that city who is also a buddy. Or could the Northern Side be the other side of life? His dead buddies on the other side waiting for him? Or is it the dead floating him that find his dead corpse. The writer is envisioning the spectacle of his impending suicide. But then he points out that he'll delay it.... Frightening because you don't sense that he has shut the door on the idea. Very clever qualifying remark there. |
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| Frightened Rabbit – I Feel Better Lyrics | 2 years ago |
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when your final act to a loved one is the last loved song you'll ever write about her tells me that this is a song about depressed feelings after a few cups of coffee. the energy of the music is as if a man has recovered from trapped feelings of love for someone he's since separated from. clouds seems to refer to clinical depression; and in the lyrics the author is indicating that some light (not feeling as depressed) does make it thru the clouds of his depression from time to time. The writer confesses he is imprisoned by his depression with the line "now I am free in parenthesis". Parenthesis implies being locked behind barriers. So when you are free and yet imprisoned at the same time, that cannot be great feeling. I think this song is the author say he's happy despite being in utter misery. |
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| Glen Campbell – Wichita Lineman Lyrics | 3 years ago |
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Such a beautiful and deeply depressing song. As someone who has bad hearing (too many loud jam sessions without earplugs when I was young), I get it when the voice speaks of the "whine" on the line. To me it's like incessant ringing of my ears. The sad "energy" of the music is hypnotic. Lyrically, there's an emotion of desperate longing. The voice is clinging to life in a rather dull job and is enlightened by the memory of someone close to heart. This song was written the year I was born, so the longing for me is nostalgia when I tie this song to possibly some of my earliest childhood memories and there could even be a love for the past that you cannot return to. Ultimately, this is a love song. But as we all know love is very deeply complex at times. The feeling I could imagine is if my loved one died and I was alone continuing on with only my memories of her. As losing my loved one is my greatest fear, the sadness of this song reflects that vulnerability. |
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| Justin Bieber – Love Yourself Lyrics | 3 years ago |
| Yes I said it: “the song is about being pesky whipped.” There I said it. We’ll in code I said it. | |
| Justin Bieber – Love Yourself Lyrics | 3 years ago |
| @[HenryTheDude:44499] uh, you mean a bitch? Lol? | |
| Justin Bieber – Love Yourself Lyrics | 3 years ago |
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So the song is obviously about the narrator’s bitterness over a love that screwed or “loved” him over. But there is a structural musical quotation in the guitar riff that starts the song going. It is obviously the intro to the Beatles “All You Need Is Love”… When I first heard this Bieber song, I kept singing to myself “Love, love, love..” What that signifies is the songwriter’s bitter confession that despite detaching himself from this woman, he still eerily realizes a part of his heart is always a slave to her and in mantra is trying to self convince him self that all he needs is love to right the wrongs. |
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| Deep Blue Something – Breakfast At Tiffany's Lyrics | 3 years ago |
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The lady is clearly bored with his melodrama and off to better things as is obvious given how badly the lyrics flow. Ironically a great song though lol |
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| The Smiths – Ask Lyrics | 3 years ago |
| In his live version he alters the lyric by proclaiming the world is blind:\n\n“Nature is language can’t you read,\nNature is a language can anybody read?”\n\nThe song lyrics here are understandibly misanthropic. It seems the writer is really saying for there to be love, the planet must in fact rid all of humanity. It’s humbling when you really think about it. We aren’t worthy of being a part of this universe and that’s what actually makes nature so beautiful. | |
| Jethro Tull – With You There to Help Me [Beat-Club 1970-1971] Lyrics | 3 years ago |
| Musically this song has such a deep autumnal tonality that is odd that the song takes place in the summer, although with the “80 days reference”, we could be placing the narrator sonewhere around late August.\n\nMaybe the lyric is about being down that the long days are retreating into the jaws of an impatient autumn waiting in line to destroy the narrator’s will?\n\nSo the narrator resolves this dilemma by leaning on one particular close friend to help lesson the down mood. | |
| The Lassie Foundation – I'm Stealin' to Be Your Own in a Million Lyrics | 3 years ago |
| Lots of cliches here…not much meaning if every lyric was already previously said or thought of. | |
| The Fray – Never Say Never Lyrics | 3 years ago |
| Seems to be some kind of homage to cliches; no real original lyric here to define what the meaning might be. It seems to me the writer had a great melody and just simply jotted down the first flock of cliches that came to mind. | |
| Gin Blossoms – Allison Road Lyrics | 4 years ago |
| No one notes that Allison Rd could also reference the Allison Road in Olive Branch, Mississippi, just a 10 minute drive south from where they recorded the “New Miserable Experience” at Ardent Studios in Memphis, TN. | |
| Frightened Rabbit – Floating in the Forth Lyrics | 4 years ago |
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When I first heard this song, it seemed more like a lament and the ponderance of someone obsessing over their plans to commit suicide after breaking up with their loved one. In retrospect, it was a cookbook for something that he planned to do for another year and 10 years later, after the band's ironic success from the pains that inspired its music, we realize that the lyrics were the architecture of his obsession from the pains he felt from this experience and time only gave him more time to preponder how to most accurately carry out his sad vision. The opening of the song is what a police boat sounds like when it cruises up the forth river. It even sounds like a heavy Ferry which more succinctly describes the metaphor of the gravity or heaviness of his heart as he ponders how to start the song. Perhaps after his loved one left him, he would day dream along the mouth where the Forth River meets the North Sea. This mouth swallowing what was left of his pride leaving him only with the pain of his obsessive thoughts of lonliness. The first stanza, he essentially lays the rule which is that his soul died the day she left him. The spine collapsing is how his soul had already jumped off the forth road bridge and collided with the wall of the North Sea. Based on that premise, the song is about a dead man talking to his audience in a comatose state of being. Scott Hutchinson has hinted many times that he wasn't too happy and that a "6 out 10" day was about as good as would ever get. 10 years of that of course makes the gravity of time release the hidden, pent up passions of his sadness that much heavier. From the first stanza, he visualizes what he already feels: a dead man floating on the forth river We all thought that he had since healed thanks to the lyric "I think I'll save suicide for another day." The second stanza has him seemingly simultaneously in two scenarios where he's heading to the site where he'll jump and take his life and whereby he's been recovered and is being taken away. Perhaps, by accepting the task of taking a cab or a vehicle to the bridge to jump, he is in a sense a living corpse in a metaphorical hearse. The Forth Road Bridge is a rather dull, boring suspension bridge that does have pedestrian access to it and it is located on the A9000 which connects to M9 which connects to M8. This gives us information about the 2nd stanza which seems to be a road map from where he broke up with his lass to the bridge. The M8 heads towards Edinburgh which I believe that was where he lived when he was starving musician in his mid twenties. This could mean he felt he died before he even got to the bridge so the act was not really the death but the loss of his loved one represented his hopes and was thus the true funeral procession in his depressed mind's eye. By the reference of the m8 and pointing out that to the North is a "Fife of mine" or a place that was special place to him, we most definitely have him looking to the other side of the bridge and realizing that the midway point on the bridge represented the purgatory he was in. Hell must've been Edinburgh where his heart was broken and Fife, the county on the other side of the bridge represented his hopes and dreams, who knows, maybe he met his girl over there? That's a secret he kept to himself from these lyrics, but perhaps in other lyrics, there might be light shed on that mystery. The boat he imagines for him seems most logically to be that police boat that would retrieve his dead body. The chorus ends into a sort of poetic "bridge" of sorts as he describes the feeling of the actual moment of him liberating himself from his sadness. The music has a manic sort of hopefulness that provides visions of chopping waves and gulls seemingly approving of his bold act of protest. The song seems to end with him postponing this eventual act as he tells himself to gather his loose change (or mad thoughts) , shake it out like how a dog shakes off water from his fur and continue on living. We see an astounding lyrical juxtaposition in that after the first stanza, he was negotiating his suicide with himself over the day; where in the final line, he saves suicide for another "year." One final note, is in his imagery, he saw himself fully clothed as he floats away. His final tweet mirrors this dark lyric when he told his fans, "I'm away now." The tweet although it may have physically came from his fingers, it wasn't the Scott we all loved, but rather the dark thoughts that turned him into a zombie of sorts. I think he is at peace now. He was such a funny individual, it's sort of hard to think that he held on to those thoughts so strongly. |
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| Foster the People – Pumped Up Kicks Lyrics | 4 years ago |
| @[Koriism:35802] WOULD YOU SAY THE WHISTLING AT THE END IS SORT OF HIS SUBCONSCIOUS CALLING HIM OUT AS BEING A WUSS? | |
| Cliff Richard – Dreamin' Lyrics | 4 years ago |
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Obviously a song about drug use. The clue is in the lyric that indicates he walking around at 4am. 4am??? That's when drug dealing is at its peak because the late night cop shift ends at 4am and the morning shift starts at 6am. So the "woman" is whatever drug he is trying to "dream" into his life. I'm guessing this could be a reference to heroin use which was just beginning to push away cocaine as the drug of choice during that historical era. |
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| Cliff Richard – Dreamin' Lyrics | 4 years ago |
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Obviously a song about drug use. The clue is in the lyric that indicates he walking around at 4am. 4am??? That's when drug dealing is at its peak because the late night cop shift ends at 4am and the morning shift starts at 6am. So the "woman" is whatever drug he is trying to "dream" into his life. I'm guessing this could be a reference to heroin use which was just beginning to push away cocaine as the drug of choice during that historical era. |
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| Liz Phair – Perfect World Lyrics | 5 years ago |
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This reads like a conversation between one's thoughts and the irony their inner personality is in contrast with the outer personality they try to project combined with a one-sided dialogue between that self and the individual that person is drawn to and the comlexity those feelings leave her with. Shall we then delve into the lyrics and see why I've diagnosed the lyrics as such? Ok, I'm glad you asked: Before reading the lyrics, it's been noted in many of Liz Phair's song of a person that is very withdrawn, introverted, shy, and somewhat self-centered yet oddly self-pitying. This again explains her voice quesitoning the irony of who she is: a famous rock singer who is very much taxed by people in general yet it's thes same people who give her the air she needs to find the peace with her introspective cravings. So this song is an introspection of sorts. Let's look at the evidence that presents this and follow the lyrics line by line: "What a pretty life you have Oh boy, it's a pretty life you have And I would need a map Just so I could navigate the back yard" I think she is talking to herself about her "public" success in life. The lay of the land of her music profession probably? Seems reasonable. So much success that she's circled the globe. Hence the reference to needing a map. I think she is also simultaneously referring to her normal life where in her private space, it's just as much of a world and everything in her private space is laid out as well that in her mind there is also a map just to get her out of the house. "Home is very ordinary I know I was born to lead a double life A murderous strife and misery And when I find it, I know I'll make sense of me" This more or less confirms that she is analyzing her life in its facets: her public life and private life. The last sentence seems to be her indicating she is confused by this paradox of life she is living in. It's sort of an expression of melancholy when one describes the complexity of their life from their vantage point of looking inwardly while observing what is happening outwardly or the public perception she gives off. The chorus seems to speak of loneliness: "I want to be cool, tall, vulnerable and luscious I would have it all if I'd only had this much No need for Lucifer to fall if he'd learn to keep his mouth shut I would be be involved Be involved Be involved Be involved I would be involved with you" It's another melancholic expression of being a hopeless romantic and sort of seeing, consciously how hopeless it is. The short next verse seems to be her questioning her sanity as if she has multiple personalities as well as exploring the complexity of her thirst for having alone time so to speak: I know the girls That live inside your world Just sitting next to a mortal makes their skin crawl This short verse gives us a clue of her loneliness as she repeats the chorus where she basically and tragically seems to be wishing for a soul mate but only on her terms. Then, she just emphasizes this thought again and the song abruptly ends. Yeah. The song is about loneliness. |
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| The The – This Is the Day Lyrics | 6 years ago |
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Pretty amazing song. As this was written by a 22 year old, I think we see this song is about a hangover and lamenting a great gathering, perhaps a party of youth that will never be as vivacious. I cannot fathom that a 22 year old means anything deeper than that. |
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| Frightened Rabbit – The Twist Lyrics | 6 years ago |
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The song meaning is simple; having sex is only a temporary solution to loneliness. A bandage to an ever hemorrhaging sadness. In the song prior to this, “Fast Love” he writes “good night it’s stroke time”...he describing nothing more than a distraction to make his pains wane. The theme is that all these solutions do not ultimately solve the problem. |
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| Nirvana – Smells Like Teen Spirit Lyrics | 6 years ago |
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The taste part and finding it hard but hard to find is definitely about the discovery of the females clitoris via cunnilingus. It’s a metaphor on the obsequious value of the feminine spirit. Quite poetic. |
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| Billy Joel – All For Leyna Lyrics | 6 years ago |
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I’ve had a Leyna. It’s not necessarily a one night stand, but rather, a strong connection with a woman when a lonely man quite honestly a novice when it comes to his feelings. This song pretty sums up 25 year old hopeless male romantics. Then they grow up or an older woman who feels sorry for him (usually a more refined Leyna that’s grown up and isn’t as magnetic as she used to be) helps him grow up. Then a guy turns into a man. This song is about a lonely “guy” who thinks he’s in love with someone who he’s really obsessed by. |
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| Frightened Rabbit – Floating in the Forth Lyrics | 6 years ago |
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The song’s about a literal commitment to ending one’s life and obsessing over how it (ironically the lack of being) could possibly be. Sad as hell in retrospect. |
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| Frightened Rabbit – The Modern Leper Lyrics | 7 years ago |
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This song makes me (the masochist) cry. The writer is saying he's not worthy to be loved to the person who loves him. The writer is saying he's trying his best not to be so negative but is trying to convince those that love him to stop bothering. |
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| Everything but the Girl – Little Hitler Lyrics | 8 years ago |
| Nice guys finish last and girls love bad boys....but all in sarcasm. | |
| Stina Nordenstam – Little Star Lyrics | 8 years ago |
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In an interview, Stina Nordenstam talked about "Little Star" and after a very long pause said, "I wrote the song, extremely late at the time, things like that are very healthy and rich when I do things like that. and it was....it's about a suicide, I think, I'm not sure but I think." I think she was in deep thought and was perhaps tired when she composed the song? Definitely, the song is a sort of melancholic stream of conscience. I don't think the meaning is definitive or specific. |
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| Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – The Mercy Seat Lyrics | 8 years ago |
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Mercy Seat isn't so cut and dry. Everyone wants to know: Did he get executed for a crime he didn't commit? Of course not. With the lyrics as a weak defense case, we see a stubborn murderer using his final breaths trying reconcile the bitter life he had. When you're jailed and stripped of your freedom, you begin turn into the victim you murdered. The song is about how one is always haunted by their incidents of bad karma. |
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| Mineral – Love Letter Typewriter Lyrics | 8 years ago |
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Lots of drug references in this. It's clearly about the lyricist's thanking the drugs for opening his mind to a greater possible world before him. The clue is in the "where the trees (clearly a metaphor for "green" or ganja or pot or marijuana and "sky"...what is "high"? Obviously the sky and the "green" or "tree" was what connected his mind from his grounded, boring reality to the sky where up there high, there's a view of the world he never realized. The second part of the lyric is the writer glorifying marijuana for allowing him to attain that spiritual realm that, ahemph...I guess he apparently could not reach while sober. Let tell you all something, soberly being high is a much more intense high than any drug. It also allows for more original and meaningful song lyrics. |
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| Queen – She Makes Me (Stormtrooper in Stilettoes) Lyrics | 9 years ago |
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You know, I'm no rocket scientist but this song's about an arrogant female who used a man and pretty much treats him like a molded wafer. and the man's too pathetic to let go of her even though he realizes how horrible of a human being she is... I think the key line is: "and if I'm very slow, she makes me so..." He is downright convicting her of assault and battery of his heart. Basicallly, the song writer is saying that Love is Fascist..... |
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| James – Sometimes (Lester Piggott) Lyrics | 9 years ago |
| @[rossx:17532] Completely agree: "Laid" is as overrated as repetitive sex with the same spouse over the course of 20 years. | |
| James – Sometimes (Lester Piggott) Lyrics | 9 years ago |
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Last I checked, you buy an ounce of crack anywhere near or around Sheffield, it's referred to as "a monsoon." Don't read into all the metaphor jive. The lyricist is obviously talking about an unforgettable drug induced frenzy on a rainy day. Kids, remember: drugs are bad for yah. Don't call me the fascist for ordering you not to take them. The fascist are in fact the drugs. |
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| Owl City – Fireflies Lyrics | 9 years ago |
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Fireflies is about a drug induced experience of combining alcohol, LSD and Heroin. The key give away in the lyric are the metaphors to describe each drug type: The reference to alcohol is in the line: "I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly"....when you're drunk and spinning at what appears to be at least 70 mph in a circle, that's what you'd like to believe. The reference to hallucinogenic is subtle but can be cracked by these two lines: The "fox trot" line combined with: 'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar (jar, jar)" is the key: everyone keeps their shrooms in a jar. Foxtrot refers to the writer's fear of being busted on a possession charge. Heroin's so obvious within the frame work of the lyrics. The writer seems to dabble on and off about whether he's hyper and alert or apathetic and narcoleptic. This line is typical mindsets expressed by junkies in rehabilitation clinics: "Leave my door open just a crack Please take me away from here 'Cause I feel like such an insomniac Please take me away from here Why do I tire of counting sheep Please take me away from here When I'm far too tired to fall asleep" Typically, a drug addict experiences insomnia and has suicidal thoughts which can be inferred inthe lyrics. The writer of this song was seriously disturbed when penning this tune. Kids, don't do drugs or you'll become like this. |
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| James – Sometimes (Lester Piggott) Lyrics | 9 years ago |
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There's obviously a LOT of drug reference in this great song. "Crack and thunder, crack and thunder, It's closing in, it's closing in..." Firstly, there's clear oblivion in the lyrical structure. Crack and Thunder is street lingo in certain parts of Suffolk the refer to being ripped off in a drug deal but not really giving a hoot about it cause it got yah high anyhow. Unrelated to drugs is the vulnerability of the voice in the chorus: "Sometimes, when I look deep into your eyes I swear I can see your soul." It's as if the writer's so incoherent that even when as focused as possible, using all his might he can only "swear" that he sees the soul of the person he loves. He's still holding back his feelings. Truly compelling. Kids: don't do drugs. |
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| Nada Surf – Blizzard of '77 Lyrics | 9 years ago |
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I'm a song writer and there has to be some sort of significance when he writes "I miss you more than I ever knew 3x's" You say it once and it's just a big regret. You say it twice, you're reaching out. Hoping. But the the third time. It's like pushing a paper boat love letter into an ocean that engulfs the message. The song is a love letter that was never sent to the person whom the feelings were intended to. |
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| Nada Surf – Weightless Lyrics | 9 years ago |
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Have you ever eaten "space cakes"? That's what this song's about. Obvious drug usage reference. Obviously "weightless" means light headedness that one feels when the shrooms kick in about 45 minutes after eatin' them. The rest of the lyrics are typical "streams of conscience" rhetoric that's intended to be obscure simply because when you write song lyrics under an influence of a substance, the meaning's gonna be rather uncertain. Amazing song. |
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| CHVRCHES – Down Side of Me Lyrics | 10 years ago |
| @[rrgn:8032] Poignant song lyric. Spot on. Read your interpretation and it resonated with how the song makes me feel. It's about loving someone and ignoring the very fact that the relationship is dying. In all relationships, one person always fights to keep it going and the other side always makes up all the reasons for why it must fail in the end. It's reminiscent of the "Elephant Love Medley" from the movie Moulin Rouge where one character is talking about the possibility of how great love is and the other character (Satine) dismisses the possibility that love exists. | |
| Journey – The Party's Over (Hopelessly in Love) Lyrics | 10 years ago |
| @[DarkPoo:3570] Wasn't it "our love is idee fixe (the french word for fixated infatuation)? | |
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