Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again

"Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again" Oh, the ragman draws circles Up and down the block I'd ask him what the matter was But I know that he don't talk And the ladies treat me kindly And furnish me with tape But deep inside my heart I know I can't escape Oh, Mama, can this really be the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again. The Ragman is an interesting character. He’s silent, drawing circles up and down the block. Is he the artist — unwilling to “talk” about his art and meaning? The ladies treat the speaker kindly, but their kindness involves tape, which can be sticky and restraining. Interesting image in view of the speaker’s comment that he’s “stuck” inside of Mobile.

Well Shakespeare he's in the alley With his pointed shoes and his bells Speaking to some French girl Who says she knows me well And I would send a message To find out if she's talked But the post office has been stolen And the mailbox is locked Oh, Mama, can this really be the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again.

Shakespeare could represent the artist’s desire to move into more “literary” territory (away from folk songs and toward poetry?) The French girl believes she knows the speaker very well, yet he is unable to communicate with her any longer (no post office) — he’s in a new place (stuck or otherwise).

Mona tried to tell me To stay away from the train line She said that all the railroad men Just drink up your blood like wine And I said "Oh I didn't know that But then again there's only one I've met And he just smoked my eyelids And punched my cigarette" Oh, Mama, can this really be the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again. Is Mona the French girl? Is she associated with a disconnected past? She’s sees the railroad men of his current life (Mobile — which can suggest movement) as a threat — she advises that he “stay away from the train line.” The train can symbolize movement and change, and the Mona who is not part of the speaker’s transformation. Rather than drink his blood his blood like wine (a troubling Christ image — is the artist being crucified by those who venerated his earlier incarnation?) they smoke his eyelids! This odd, somewhat druggy image reinforces the idea that things are not what they used to be; he’s now in a world Mona could never understand.

Grandpa died last week And now he's buried in the rocks But everybody still talks about How badly they were shocked But me, I expected it to happen I knew he'd lost control When he built a fire on Main Street And shot it full of holes Oh, Mama, can this really be the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again. Grandpa is a common figure in folklore (and folk music), and as an aging person also represents the past (and the wisdom of the past). The speaker of the song wasn’t shocked at his death — he expected it. Transformative change is already here. Grandpa’s attempt to shoot and burn the new order (the new art? The new society of the 1960s? Electric music?) are the reason for his extinction.

Now the senator came down here Showing ev'ryone his gun Handing out free tickets To the wedding of his son And me, I nearly get busted And wouldn't it be my luck To get caught without a ticket And be discovered beneath a truck Oh, Mama, can this really be the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again. I’m thinking the Senator is part of the old order, asserting his power (the gun) and turning his son’s wedding into a spectacle with tickets. He’s commercializing something that should be intimate and real. Even a wedding, though, could be seen as a dated ritual in this new, bizarre world we’re seeing. “Caught without a ticket” is what happens to railroad bums riding the rails. The fact that it’s now a truck (perhaps a more advanced technology) is just another indication of the displacement of tradition.

Now the preacher looked so baffled When I asked him why he dressed With twenty pounds of headlines Stapled to his chest But he cursed me when I proved it to him Then I whispered, "Not even you can hide You see, you're just like me I hope you're satisfied" Oh, Mama, can this really be the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again. Here’s more change. The preacher takes his place alongside Grandpa and the senator as a figure who no longer makes sense. His spiritual life is corrupt — he seeks publicity and headlines. He doesn’t bless the song’s narrator but curses him. The speaker underscores his phoniness, telling him “you’re just like me?” “Just like me” here suggests, lost - in a period of revolutionary change, in a place where old systems (family politics, religion) no longer have a lock on the “truth,” a place of poetic disassociation, dream-reality, getting high and no longer fitting into an established order.

Now the rainman gave me two cures Then he said, "Jump right in" The one was Texas medicine The other was just railroad gin And like a fool I mixed them And it strangled up my mind And now, people just get uglier And I have no sense of time Oh, Mama, can this really be the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again. I see the “rainman” as a medicine man or shaman encouraging a new vision: “Jump right in.” he says. When the speaker drinks the “cures” he has a somewhat psychedelic experience in which time dissolves and people look “uglier.” His mind is strangled by the reality shift he perceives. (I think it’s humorous that people don’t get “ugly” but instead get “uglier!”)

When Ruthie says come see her In her honky-tonk lagoon Where I can watch her waltz for free 'Neath her Panamanian moon And I say, "Aw come on now You know you know about my debutante" And she says, "Your debutante just knows what you need But I know what you want" Oh, Mama, can this really be the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again.

Ruthie is part of the new reality — the debutante part of the old. The Id is in revolt against the superego.

Now the bricks lay on Grand Street Where the neon madmen climb They all fall there so perfectly It all seems so well timed And here I sit so patiently Waiting to find out what price You have to pay to get out of Going through all these things twice Oh, Mama, is this really the end To be stuck inside of Mobile With the Memphis blues again.

The image of bricks falling so perfectly is the central image here. Is the narrator standing outside of reality observing things over which he has no control? A place where madmen climb (aspire and climb to power?)? Yes. That disconnect and powerlessness is certainly there. One can’t help but notice, though, that out chaos and change, out of dream-like and sometimes troubling images comes this beautiful song. The song’s imagery can appear random on first listening, but it comes to make artistic sense, to be a rich and provocative statement about both the positive and negative aspects of radical change whether in society, in music or in consciousness. The artist lays the words and verses of the song on Grand Street (no longer on Main Street) like the perfectly fallen bricks. He creates art from chaos, beauty from meaninglessness, understanding from disorientation. Grand Street is a place of magic and beauty. The narrator is still stuck in the mundane world, still struggling through the change of Mobile, but nearing Memphis, the longed-for place of artistic beauty and truth.