The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
Now you're talking in headlines
Up to the minute and free
Stop press, hold the front page
Up as a mirror
Are you reading me?
Watch you walking in waltz time
A jigsaw puzzle in tune
Or are you faking a straight line
To suit yourself too soon
Rather nouveau than never
Contemporary ideal
Some natural kind of poet might slow it
But she sells more my speed
She sells country and modern
Ancient western song
Of oriental confusion
You so right, me so wrong
Now you're fixing to fly me
Auto-erotic, please,
On the break that you're gliding.
Your lingerie's a gift-wrap
Slip it to me
Nine till five
The daily grind
Made-up lies
Make up my mind
Same machine consuming you
Consuming you
Oh why
She sells
I need
Oh why love why
She sells
I need.
Up to the minute and free
Stop press, hold the front page
Up as a mirror
Are you reading me?
Watch you walking in waltz time
A jigsaw puzzle in tune
Or are you faking a straight line
To suit yourself too soon
Rather nouveau than never
Contemporary ideal
Some natural kind of poet might slow it
But she sells more my speed
She sells country and modern
Ancient western song
Of oriental confusion
You so right, me so wrong
Now you're fixing to fly me
Auto-erotic, please,
On the break that you're gliding.
Your lingerie's a gift-wrap
Slip it to me
Nine till five
The daily grind
Made-up lies
Make up my mind
Same machine consuming you
Consuming you
Oh why
She sells
I need
Oh why love why
She sells
I need.
Lyrics submitted by Blackened, edited by NomadMonad
She Sells Lyrics as written by Edwin Jobson Bryan Ferry
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, O/B/O DistroKid, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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NO comments. Wow. Surely I am living in the dark ages - surely the current epoch is owned by clueless philistines. Some day I will return here to attempt an analysis of this great ROXY song.
I finally understood, after years of loving this song, that the title can be interpreted as a Spoonerism for Sea Shells. Things I love about this song: The jaunty piano intro followed by Paul Thompson coming in with that great hi-hat/bass triple thump . . . the tempo shifts to a slow bounce at Nine-till-five / the daily grind. . . and then again shifts at 2:40 in the original studio version to an expansive majestic sound which ends the song. And the lyrics, like all Roxy lyrics, are poetically exciting, full of word-play and innuendo. Is it about a real-estate agent? A tailor doing alterations? A table-dancer at a gentleman’s club? A dealer in illicit stimulants? A Chinese ceramics collector? An Asian prostitute? Maybe all of that at once. Or maybe just a fantasy in the singer’s mind about his girlfriend. Who knows ? (only Bryan Ferry and God.)
OK I finally said why I like this song and found 3 versions of it to post along with the corrected lyrics:
connecthook.net/2020/10/18/she-sells-3-versions/
@NomadMonad <br /> <br /> <br /> I think your lyrics get closer to the correct lyrics than what's posted here, but I have to correct one thing. It's:<br /> <br /> Off the record you're gliding<br /> Your lingerie's a gift wrap<br /> Slip it to me<br /> <br /> One more great pun by Mr. Ferry.<br />
She Sells, with its convoluted lyric, seems to answer the question merely suggested by Duran Duran's Girls On Film: who has really got the upper hand, the voyeur or the voyeuree? The protagonist of the song is a cover girl, but the lyric is written from the perspective of the magazine reader, who is almost wondering if she’s looking back at him (“hold the frontpage up as a mirror. Are you reading me?”). We learn more about her, which actually tells us less (“she sells country and modern, ancient western song of oriental confusion”). She’s a shape-shifter able to embody any fantasy for your pleasure, and seems totally in control of it, leaving the on-looker confused, unable to see through her (“watch you walking in waltz time, a jigsaw puzzle in tune”). But, who cares about that? Here, as in In Every Dream Home a Heartache, is the commodification of sex, trying to infuse the elusive wonder of intimate human relationships in mass-produced knick knacks, all for profit. Love as chemistry and sex as mechanics (“auto-erotic, please”).
And so the focus is not so much in the act of looking, but in the act of buying. The easy answer would be then that the seller is the one truly profiting off this relationship. Is it though? The song, which up to this point had been backed by a springly piano courtesy of boy genius Eddie Jobson, suddenly changes it’s pace for the bridge. “Nine till five, the daily grind. Made-up lies, make up my mind. Same machine consuming me, consuming you”, which is probably the most overtly-political that Roxy Music ever got. She Sells comes to its claustrophobic yet realistic conclusion: there’s no ethical cons… I mean, everybody has got to get on with their lives. On one hand we have this girl that has to accommodate the buyer’s fantasies in order to make a living, and on the other we have the buyer, who fantasizes about her in order to make life more bearable. And so, we have Ferry lamenting “she sells, I need”. Simple as that.