Insomniac's Lullaby

The song is about a lullaby, but we have to get to that in a minute. Because the song, while about a lullaby, is itself a prayer.

After all, it starts: "Oh Lord," and anything that starts that way is a prayer. And what is the insomniac's prayer? "Oh Lord, don't keep me up all night."

It'd be a lonesome vigil. The only other one up would be the Moon, what that only has "desolate eyes." And to journey all those "miles [to] the sunrise" with only such "sockets" as "travelling companions" [OK, so that's from "Graceland," but still] would be too much to bear.

But the darkness "invites" a tune. Simon has been personifying Darkness since he called it his "old friend" all those decades ago, and maybe now we finally know why they are so long acquainted. After all, Darkness would be an insomniac's friend, or at least a familiar face. Anyway, the tune the darkness invites seems to be this very tune.

While he is awake, he hears a "siren" sound "in the distance," but instead of being upset by it-- after all, it means someone is in trouble-- he calls it a "song." To let us know he is being facetious, he complains that the sound "rattles the old window frame."

And then, something unexpected happens: "Gradually, angels reveal their existence." So, they were there the whole time, only now they are letting themselves be seen. The fact that he does not elaborate about these divine visitors, as the listener might expect, leads us to believe that the thin wisps of light that must seep into his dark room resemble angels. "There's nothing and no one to blame," he says, worried that we might accuse him of abusing alcohol (etc.), or having a tumor, what with him seeing angels and all. Maybe he could see what was really causing these angelic apparitions if he put on his glasses..? Lack of sleep can cause hallucinations, after all.

Even if this is a prayer, these visions are not angels. If they were, the speaker would not be talking so much about being alone, as he does before when he says the "desolate" Moon is his only companion, and later when he... well, let's get to that part right now.

Now comes the prayer again. This time, the thing he fears is not the daunting distance until dawn but coldness of some sort also lasting a too-long time: "winter that lasts until June." This may be the lack of human companionship... at least the sort that is awake. So again, he's alone, with no angelic company. (Also, Simon just rhymed "Moon" with "tune" and "June" so slyly we didn't notice.)

Now, two choruses and a verse into the song, we finally learn what the Insomniac's Lullaby is. It's a song that turns out to be one word long:

"Sleep."

Well, of course. What else do you need?

The next verse seems to be about death. "They say all roads lead to a river." While I have never heard "they" say any such thing (all roads lead to Rome, I thought) it is true that every major city is built around a river-- every city more than 100 years old, at least. A river was necessary as a source of water, but also transportation of people and goods.

But, "they" supposedly continue, "one day/ The river comes up to your door." Well, there are plenty of places that don't flood, so this must mean something else. What comes to every door? Only, as Franklin said, "death and taxes."

Hearing this axiom, the speaker asks, "How will the builder of bridges deliver us all/ To the faraway shore?" This is less sincere doubt than simple amazement. When watching a magic trick or feat of athletic prowess, we mutter, "How does he do it?" but only rhetorically.

This is a much nicer metaphor for death than some hooded skeleton reaping our souls with a huge blade, isn't it? A walk across a bridge, is all death is. (Or, if you're Jacob or Robert Plant, you may prefer a ladder or stairway.)

In the next iteration of the chorus, the speaker again asks for sleep, but now so that he can avoid having to face "questions [he doesn't] understand" and "wrestle [his] fears." This is completely understandable. Who wants to do that, all night?

"The sound in my ears/ Is the music that's sweeping the land/ The Insomniac's Lullaby." Maybe the "lullaby" is the agglomeration of sounds coming from everyone insomniac's radio and stereo. Or maybe it's his own radio, and he's listening to contemporary pop (on his headset, so as not to wake his wife) for inspiration. After all, a musician likes to stay current.

Finally, he arrives at dawn, the "light from the East." It is "soft as a rose," and that color, too. "As if all is forgiven," meaning that the questions and fears of the night are resolved, or at least feel that way.

"Wolves become sheep" at this time. The nocturnal animals, like wolves and burglars, are replaced by pleasanter ones, like sheep and ice-cream truck drivers. Also, the menacing gray clouds of night are supplanted by white, woolly ones.

It might be a reference to his song "Pigs Sheep and Wolves," but more likely it's a circling-back to the "Werewolf" of the opening track.

Alternately, one famous sleep aid is "counting sheep"; the idea of imagining sheep jumping a fence, and counting them doing so, is said to help one drift off. This connection of sheep and sleep is possible because of how the song ends: "We are who we are/ or we're not" but either way, "At least we'll eventually all fall asleep."

Like any good bedtime story, the song-- and the album-- end with a yawn and a "nighty-night."

Is the song about death? Is "we'll all fall asleep" about... the Big Sleep, as it is in Hamlet? I don't think so. There are no insomniacs when it comes to death, no "in-necr-iacs." Some people complain, "I just can't sleep," but no one complains, "I just can't die." So this is about sleep, and to the degree it is about the lack thereof, it is about the resolution of that issue.

It's also a very pretty song.

Simon has recently stated that he is retiring from music. If he is, he has earned it. But I can't imagine he is. Music has been his entire life. Now, he is 75. He just finished working on an album and touring the world in support of it. He's tired, is all, and he's talking like a tired person. Once he has a vacation, I bet we'll get another album-- or two-- out of him yet.

I just think that if he stops making music, he'll die. And he isn't ready to do that yet.


MUSICAL NOTE: Bobby McFerrin does the background vocals. In pop circles, he is considered a one-hit wonder because of the dippy-- but perfectly so-- song "Don't Worry, Be Happy." In jazz circles, he is considered a living legend and one of the greatest vocalists ever to live, able to create whole arrangements with just his voice and body slaps. In classical circles, he is that fun conductor who sings the notes along with the instruments and harmonizes with them. Just go on YouTube, type in his name, and enjoy.

Some of the instruments were invented by a man named Harry Partch, who could hear 43 tones to an octave; most mortals can hear only 12. So had to invent instruments to make those sounds. They have names like: cloud chamber bowls, sonic canons, kithara and the chromelodeon. The original instruments are at Montclair State University, in New Jersey, where the song was recorded. (More in the entry on the Seven Psalms album).

Next Song: Like to Get to Know You

Song About the Moon

"Blue Moon." "Moondance. "Bad Moon Rising." Not just three songs about the Moon, but three songs off the soundtrack for the Moon-centered movie An American Werewolf in London (speaking of which, Happy Hallowe'en!).

To paraphrase Kermit the Frog, why are there so many songs about... the Moon? As Simon shows, the Moon can be used as a metaphor for many things.

The first verse assumes that the songwriter actually wants to write a song about the Moon itself. Well, then, one must imagine oneself actually on the Moon's surface, walking along its very "craters." Why in the "afternoon"? Because the "shadows" would be different then, and "alien."

Now, a physicist would tell you that the gravity in the Moon, small as it is, is constant, even in the afternoon. But then, a physicist would also tell you that a "knife" doesn't "jump... off the pavement." So the Moon as a whole is a place of imagination. Even well after the Moon landing, it is still a place unknown.

How unknown? As unknown as, say, Heaven. "You want to write a spiritual tune/ Presto, a song about the Moon."

But let's say that no, you don't want to write a song about the Moon, but about love, about "the heart." Well, then, "Think about the Moon before you start" anyway. Why? The heart reacts to elemental forces; it "will howl like a dog in the moonlight." And if the love is painful or betrayed, the Moon will witness this crime of passion.

In Piece Pettis' excellent song, "Trying to Stand in a Fallen World," he writes: "Bloody Moon is on the rise/ Like a Jolly Roger in the skies/ Bearing witness with its light/To another night of crime." (It's never a "day of crime.")

The light of the Moon is only a reflection of the Sun, and so the Moon reflects the idea of "ever longing for a counterpart," also like a heart.

The bridge, about a "laughing" boy and girl, seems out of place. It seems a reference to some nursery rhyme, although one I am unfamiliar with. What's even stranger, there are plenty of nursery rhymes that mention the Moon-- like the one in which the cow jumps over it-- if the idea was to show that Moon songs are part of one's life even from childhood. But then, these lines don't mention the Moon at all. Curious.

The last verse takes up the thread of songwriting again. This time, the subject is an individual, a "face." The advice this time is to think of a "photograph" that is half-remembered. You should be able to describe it, but not in any detail. The important thing is not what you remember, but how you remember it.

And then... there is a debate between the website and the liner notes. The liner notes say the line is "Wash your hands in dreams and lightning." The website and Lyrics book says the line is "Wash your hands and dreams in lightning." I am going to side with the liner notes, as this is how I have always heard the line.

Also, one regularly will "wash one's hands," so that seems to be a unified phrase, where as when does someone "wash dreams"? Something is "washed... in lightning" either way, so it makes more sense (or equally less sense!) to say that something can be "washed... in dreams" as well.

Further, "Wash your hands" parallels grammatically with "Cut... your hair." And both are common acts that fall under the category of "things you do to freshen up," or "to become more presentable." They are things you might do before trying to start something new, like going on a date or an interview.

So before writing, your hands must be cleansed of reality by preparing them with deep, subconscious metaphor ("dreams") and otherworldly, electric energy ("lightning"). Then any inhibitions must be removed: "Cut off... whatever is frightening." There must be an openness, a willingness to experience the new and possibly uncomfortable discoveries you will make.

So, whatever the topic is, from one "face" to the whole "human race," you have to find an image that is familiar to all potential listeners, yet flexible enough to carry your own personal message. Might we suggest... the Moon?

The Moon can be the caring light of a lullaby, the caster of shadows in a horror tale, the resting place of angels, or the warm glow between lovers. That's why there are so many songs about the Moon, and rainbows, and other elements of Nature. We all see them, yet we each see them in our own way.


Musical Note: Some hear echoes of Sam Cooke's "Bring It On Home" in this track, which would not be surprising. The songs on this album tend to run in two general directions, musically. "Hearts and Bones," "Allergies," and both halves of "Think Too Much" have Latin or Caribbean influences. "Song About the Moon," "Train in the Distance," and parts of "Magritte" and ""Johnny Ace" are taken almost directly from the 1950s, sound-wise. These are two threads that have been running through Simon's songs from the outset, and they are both in full force on this album.

Next song: Think Too Much (a)