It's not often you find a tune that good, a song that makes you genuinely cringe with uneasiness and brings you on the verge of nausea because the arrangements, the vocals and the lyrics all perfectly convey the horror of what the song is about. This is art. This is what bloody contractions and gynaecological torture sound like.
According to Courtney at the time, Mrs Jones is a song about a botched abortion. The vocals are oppressed, panting in places, howling in agony in others. The lyrics are full of references to the sickness and distress of the mother, culminating with her speaking to the foetus as she waits for it to come out her ("Come, slide... I will, I will follow you down the sick drain/ When I lean on…on the sink.../ Don't worry, don't worry, don't worry, baby/You will, you will never stink so bad again"). Feverish apologies to a male partner about the anguish caused by the operation (I'm sorry man, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have looked at it, I'm sorry man/ You night blooming sickle cell, you're a night blooming sickle cell/ Carry it away, get it away) alternate with pleas to "Mrs Jones" (possibly the nurse ?) to come and relieve her discomfort. The bridge is a disturbing interlude filled with groans of pain and loud outbursts of desperate swearing. Brrr...
As the outro gradually brings the chaos to a still, a stern female voice is heard admonishing the main character, still panting from anxiety and shock : "Breathe… Don't ask me again. Don't ever talk to me like that again."
It's not often you find a tune that good, a song that makes you genuinely cringe with uneasiness and brings you on the verge of nausea because the arrangements, the vocals and the lyrics all perfectly convey the horror of what the song is about. This is art. This is what bloody contractions and gynaecological torture sound like. According to Courtney at the time, Mrs Jones is a song about a botched abortion. The vocals are oppressed, panting in places, howling in agony in others. The lyrics are full of references to the sickness and distress of the mother, culminating with her speaking to the foetus as she waits for it to come out her ("Come, slide... I will, I will follow you down the sick drain/ When I lean on…on the sink.../ Don't worry, don't worry, don't worry, baby/You will, you will never stink so bad again"). Feverish apologies to a male partner about the anguish caused by the operation (I'm sorry man, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have looked at it, I'm sorry man/ You night blooming sickle cell, you're a night blooming sickle cell/ Carry it away, get it away) alternate with pleas to "Mrs Jones" (possibly the nurse ?) to come and relieve her discomfort. The bridge is a disturbing interlude filled with groans of pain and loud outbursts of desperate swearing. Brrr... As the outro gradually brings the chaos to a still, a stern female voice is heard admonishing the main character, still panting from anxiety and shock : "Breathe… Don't ask me again. Don't ever talk to me like that again."
Masterpiece, ladies and gentlemen. Masterpiece.