I know, of course, that it's foolish of me, or any other listener of The Knife to take your comment personally. However, there's something about condemning the vacuity of these and other lyrics that makes me feel invalidated; these words and the way they are arranged, are things I enjoy largely due to my taste, but also because I feel myself in them. It is of course self-flattery to say I occupy words written by artists I've never met, but I can at least recognize their cadence, poetic device, and attachment to certain lyrical and musical trends as something that I too would try to express. Some of the worst moments of my life have been times when I've tried to convey my feeling to those who had no patience for my expression. It sucks going to bed knowing that no matter how many times you could rephrase something, your feelings will always lie beyond the threshold of your audience, and you have to give up.
The cleverness of the Knife, to me, has a great deal to do with eliciting empathy in a way that is natural, but unexpected. The mundane and disarming memories of a lost friend cooking, running, and living are inevitably inter-cut with the desperate, dashed hopes that could have saved them. The "beats" suit the feeling. The chords of the verses come out with a melancholy nostalgia, but as soon as the word "waited" is dropped, a false past is made and the chords try in futility to reach a major progression again. The coda, where the speaker speaks presumably about how she copes with the loss, can't get anywhere major either. She can't turn up satisfying answers, finding only that what is lost is lost, a realization met with a descending cry.
It's not my will to contrive a false empathy for those who don't find these lyrics meaningful, but you certainly provided my with an excellent chance for reflection, so thanks! Enjoy what you do.
Jeez, "pleasedontlaugh"!
Hmm. I gotta say that one hurt.
I know, of course, that it's foolish of me, or any other listener of The Knife to take your comment personally. However, there's something about condemning the vacuity of these and other lyrics that makes me feel invalidated; these words and the way they are arranged, are things I enjoy largely due to my taste, but also because I feel myself in them. It is of course self-flattery to say I occupy words written by artists I've never met, but I can at least recognize their cadence, poetic device, and attachment to certain lyrical and musical trends as something that I too would try to express. Some of the worst moments of my life have been times when I've tried to convey my feeling to those who had no patience for my expression. It sucks going to bed knowing that no matter how many times you could rephrase something, your feelings will always lie beyond the threshold of your audience, and you have to give up.
The cleverness of the Knife, to me, has a great deal to do with eliciting empathy in a way that is natural, but unexpected. The mundane and disarming memories of a lost friend cooking, running, and living are inevitably inter-cut with the desperate, dashed hopes that could have saved them. The "beats" suit the feeling. The chords of the verses come out with a melancholy nostalgia, but as soon as the word "waited" is dropped, a false past is made and the chords try in futility to reach a major progression again. The coda, where the speaker speaks presumably about how she copes with the loss, can't get anywhere major either. She can't turn up satisfying answers, finding only that what is lost is lost, a realization met with a descending cry.
It's not my will to contrive a false empathy for those who don't find these lyrics meaningful, but you certainly provided my with an excellent chance for reflection, so thanks! Enjoy what you do.