There is an album called 50,000,000 Elvis Fans Can't Be Wrong. Ah, but can they all be liars? At what point do you trust what everyone else says, and distrust your own heart?
That question lies at the center of this song. A young man is in love, as in so many other songs: "Yesterday, you swore to me/ You'd be mine eternally." With this phrasing, however, we feel a "but" coming. That was "yesterday." Today..?
Well, "Today, my friends all say it's true/ You're going out with someone new." They "all" say it. How could it not be the case?
Nevertheless, our hero remains unconvinced: "I don't believe them," he asserts repeatedly, adding "No!" seven times.
But the rumor mill grinds on. Next, the "kids in school" say she is not just a two-timer, but a many more timer than that! In fact, that she runs around, like, um, Runaround Sue: "They say that when I turn around/ You head right for the lights of town."
It's not just that they are maligning her, but also him, calling him a "fool" to his face for staying with her.
So he looks at his own history: "I've been hurt so many times/ That I'm afraid to start." Oh, this does not look good. He is liable to chalk this up as yet another failed romance. So much pain, and still so young...
Only, no! He dismisses all of that. Instead, he decides that faith is the way, as the alternative is unthinkable: "If I believed everything they say/ It would break my heart."
While his stalwart trust is admirable, his next piece of reasoning is not: "So I'll go on trusting you/ I've got no choice-- what can I do?" Well, he could ask her, either directly or indirectly, or enlist her help in quelling the rumors.
He's not there yet, though. Where is he? Stuck. "I know that I would die/ If I found out you told a lie," he says. If he asks her and she isn't cheating, she might take offense at being suspected, and dump him. If she is cheating, she would lie about it (as she has been by hiding it all along) and act as if she isn't cheating.... and take offense at being suspected and dump him.
But what if he said, "I hate what they are saying about you. I know you're true to me-- why would they say such things?" Or, "If you wanted to end it, you would. You wouldn't string me along and go behind my back. You're not that kind of girl." Or "The next guy who says something like that, I'm gonna pop him in the face, even if they do kick me out of school." And watch her reaction.
In any case, he sees no way out except to keep saying "I won't believe them, I don't believe them" to them, and to himself. But not to her. You have to wonder why he doesn't find some way to bring it up with the person he wants to be with "eternally."
Maybe he, as Shakespeare had it, protests to much. Maybe seven "Nos" is a few to many. Maybe, on some inner level he doesn't want to examine, he does believe them. A little. Enough for it to bother him a lot.
No, they can't be right. Then he is a fool, and the one he loves is a cheater, and all those jerks are vindicated. That would be truly unthinkable. And so he doesn't allow himself to think it.
Playing devil's advocate, why would they all lie, though? For one thing, why would they bother to spend so much energy breaking up a relationship? Tarnishing her reputation and destroying his faith? Well, anyone who has spent five minutes around adolescents knows the answer. Because they can. For fun.
If they really cared about him, they would take him aside and speak in whispers, not throw it in his face at the cafeteria like so much food-fight meatloaf.
It's very hard to defeat a rumor. Some persist for centuries, despite mountains of evidence. There is so much dishonesty in human relationships that, sadly, we expect it instead of truth.
Performance Note: Marty Cooper, the Tico of Tico and the Triumphs, sang lead on this track.
Next Song: Wild Flowers
Showing posts with label trust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trust. Show all posts
Monday, October 7, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Father and Daughter
Properly, this song should be labeled a "bonus track." It was not conceived or written for the Surprise album, but for an animated movie spun off the Wild Thornberrys cartoon TV show (the family in the show has the surname "Thornberry.") As the movie is set in Africa, it is understandable that Simon was approached to provide the theme song. Not surprisingly, it is closer in sound to Graceland and Rhythm of the Saints than any of the electronic-based tracks on Surprise.
The straightforward theme of the song is contained in its chorus: "There could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you." This "love" is presented in the song is several ways.
One is in the form of protection. The song begins with the image of a child awakening "in the mirror of a bad dream," the implication perhaps being that the subconscious mind acts as a "mirror" to what is going on in the conscious world.
The father admits that he "can't guarantee there's nothing scary hiding under [her] bed." Yet, he vows to protect her from such terrors: "I'm gonna stand guard like a postcard of a golden retriever." This is an odd locution. One can image a father comparing himself to a faithful watchdog. But why a "postcard" of one? Postcards usually depict landmarks... while family pets are depicted in photographs, and such images are not sold at souvenir stands. Further, an actual animal would provide some actual protection, even if only to soothe the child's fear of the dark.
Perhaps Simon means that, since the object of the fear is itself a dream-- a "mirror" image of reality-- only the image of a protector is necessary to defeat it. The implication, then, is that even when the child does not have her father close by, the knowledge of his desire for her safety should be soothing, and perhaps even give her the courage to face her fear alone.
The song's last verse closes with this promise as well: "You don't need to waste your time/ Worrying about the marketplace/ Trying to help the human race/ Struggling to survive its harshest night." The father vows that his daughter will not have to "worry" about business or money. She will not have to develop a "savior complex" and dedicate her life to fixing others' problems, but be able to focus on her own development. And she will not have to be frightened of having to "survive" some natural catastrophe, man-made genocide, or crushing oppression. Her father will protect her from all of that.
Following through on this protection is the promise to be protective even after the danger has passed. The father says that he will not only comfort his daughter when she is shocked awake by a nightmare, but will stay until she returns to sleep peacefully.
Another way the father shows love is through the connection of shared memories. She should know she loves her because he always has. All she needs to do is "follow [her] memory upstream"-- that is, back toward its source, its earliest point. There, she will find the recollection of watching a meteor shower with her father one night. The image of a father sharing the sight of an nighttime astrological wonder with his child was also presented in Simon's earlier lullaby, "St. Judy's Comet."
Still, for all of this involvement and shielding, the father does want his daughter to be able to care for herself. He has faith in his daughter's own good judgement: "Trust your intuition," he tells her. She should not be afraid to take chances or be ambitious; "Cast your line and hope you get a bite," he encourages.
And he knows how to hold her loosely enough to allow her room to develop on her own. "I'm gonna watch you shine/ Gonna watch you grow." He is going to invest his time and care in her... and then step back and watch her succeed and become better on her own.
"I believe the light that shines on you will shine on you forever," the father says, "I'm going to paint a sign/ So you'll always know." It is the words "forever" and "always" that give the child what she truly needs: Security. Confidence. Once she has absolute trust in her father's faith in her, she can have faith in herself.
And so we see why she only needs a postcard of a dog to protect her. That's enough to call to mind the memory and knowledge of her father's belief that he has given her what she needs. He is always there, because she can think of him whenever she needs to.
Musical Notes:
While the song is about a father and daughter, it is Simon's son, Adrian, singing backup.
Vincent Nguni, with Simon since Graceland, plays rhythm guitar here (and not elsewhere on the album).
Also, it should be noted that longtime Simon accompanist Steve Gadd was the principal drummer on the album.
IMPACT:
This pretty lullaby was nominated for the 2002 Oscar for Best Song (it lost to Eminem's "Lose Yourself").
It broke the Top 50 in Ireland and reached #31 in the UK, but did not chart in the US.
Next Song: Getting Ready for Christmas Day
The straightforward theme of the song is contained in its chorus: "There could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you." This "love" is presented in the song is several ways.
One is in the form of protection. The song begins with the image of a child awakening "in the mirror of a bad dream," the implication perhaps being that the subconscious mind acts as a "mirror" to what is going on in the conscious world.
The father admits that he "can't guarantee there's nothing scary hiding under [her] bed." Yet, he vows to protect her from such terrors: "I'm gonna stand guard like a postcard of a golden retriever." This is an odd locution. One can image a father comparing himself to a faithful watchdog. But why a "postcard" of one? Postcards usually depict landmarks... while family pets are depicted in photographs, and such images are not sold at souvenir stands. Further, an actual animal would provide some actual protection, even if only to soothe the child's fear of the dark.
Perhaps Simon means that, since the object of the fear is itself a dream-- a "mirror" image of reality-- only the image of a protector is necessary to defeat it. The implication, then, is that even when the child does not have her father close by, the knowledge of his desire for her safety should be soothing, and perhaps even give her the courage to face her fear alone.
The song's last verse closes with this promise as well: "You don't need to waste your time/ Worrying about the marketplace/ Trying to help the human race/ Struggling to survive its harshest night." The father vows that his daughter will not have to "worry" about business or money. She will not have to develop a "savior complex" and dedicate her life to fixing others' problems, but be able to focus on her own development. And she will not have to be frightened of having to "survive" some natural catastrophe, man-made genocide, or crushing oppression. Her father will protect her from all of that.
Following through on this protection is the promise to be protective even after the danger has passed. The father says that he will not only comfort his daughter when she is shocked awake by a nightmare, but will stay until she returns to sleep peacefully.
Another way the father shows love is through the connection of shared memories. She should know she loves her because he always has. All she needs to do is "follow [her] memory upstream"-- that is, back toward its source, its earliest point. There, she will find the recollection of watching a meteor shower with her father one night. The image of a father sharing the sight of an nighttime astrological wonder with his child was also presented in Simon's earlier lullaby, "St. Judy's Comet."
Still, for all of this involvement and shielding, the father does want his daughter to be able to care for herself. He has faith in his daughter's own good judgement: "Trust your intuition," he tells her. She should not be afraid to take chances or be ambitious; "Cast your line and hope you get a bite," he encourages.
And he knows how to hold her loosely enough to allow her room to develop on her own. "I'm gonna watch you shine/ Gonna watch you grow." He is going to invest his time and care in her... and then step back and watch her succeed and become better on her own.
"I believe the light that shines on you will shine on you forever," the father says, "I'm going to paint a sign/ So you'll always know." It is the words "forever" and "always" that give the child what she truly needs: Security. Confidence. Once she has absolute trust in her father's faith in her, she can have faith in herself.
And so we see why she only needs a postcard of a dog to protect her. That's enough to call to mind the memory and knowledge of her father's belief that he has given her what she needs. He is always there, because she can think of him whenever she needs to.
Musical Notes:
While the song is about a father and daughter, it is Simon's son, Adrian, singing backup.
Vincent Nguni, with Simon since Graceland, plays rhythm guitar here (and not elsewhere on the album).
Also, it should be noted that longtime Simon accompanist Steve Gadd was the principal drummer on the album.
IMPACT:
This pretty lullaby was nominated for the 2002 Oscar for Best Song (it lost to Eminem's "Lose Yourself").
It broke the Top 50 in Ireland and reached #31 in the UK, but did not chart in the US.
Next Song: Getting Ready for Christmas Day
Monday, March 4, 2013
I Don't Believe
The "fairy-tale" referred to in this song-- "breadcrumbs in a... forest"-- is the Grimm Brothers' "Hansel and Gretl."
The speaker (probably Simon, given whom he quotes later) begins this song by saying that another fairy-tale we hear is that "acts of kindness... lead us past dangers." But "I don't believe," he says, that this is the case. Continuing the image of a tale told around a campfire or hearth-fire, he says "I lean closer to the fire, but I'm cold." He wants to believe, that is, but his skepticism prevents it.
Then he tells another tale, about the creation of the world: "The earth was born in a storm" could refer to either The Big Bang or Genesis 1:6-7. The next words seem to be taken from Genesis 1:9-- "The waters receded, the mountains were formed"-- and scientists might agree that at some point, this happened through plate tectonics (adding that such movement is still happening), and that maybe the "waters" were in the form of icy glaciers. Simon's point is that in either case, there is a narrative, and you can choose to accept it or not.
The next line comes from a more recent source-- his wife! The "E.B." the quote is attributed to is Edie Brickell, who was remarking on the 2004 Bush vs. Kerry election that "the universe loves a drama." It's not enough that there be a narrative. It must be... dramatic! Even if it's just a bunch of exit-poll statistics.
What spurred all of this deep rumination on the subjective nature of reality? "I got a call from my broker/ The broker informed me I'm broke." Well. That could certainly shake up one's day. The breadcrumbs in the story were eaten by birds, you may recall, which is why the children could not find their way back home and ended up confronting the witch.
The speaker feels lost and betrayed. He feels that his "guardian angel" is, instead of guarding him, "taunt[ing]" him. Meanwhile, his children and wife, ignorant of their sudden impoverishment, are enjoying the "warm summer evening" by "laughing" and "brushing her... hair," with "not a whisper of care."
So here he was, being a responsible adult with investments and such, and then, poof! It is not surprising he is questioning the ephemeral nature of his narrative.
Yet, if he lacks faith in "acts of kindness," he has faith in something else. "I don't believe a heart can be filled to the brim/ Then vanish like mist." Kindness is one thing-- it's a sheet of ice over a lake that may or may not be thick enough to walk on. But the heart is a boat, a bridge. If you have a firm relationship, you don't need to "depend," as Blanche DuBois does, on the "kindness of strangers."
Unless... "Maybe the heart is part of the mist/ and that's all that... could ever exist." What if his wife leaves because of this? He's been divorced twice already! How silly to trust love-- hasn't he learned?
"Maybe and maybe and maybe some more"-- This cry of despair echoes Macbeth's "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow." And like the weary King, he curses himself for having faith in anything: "Maybe's the exit that I'm looking for." Macbeth is looking for an exit, too: "Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a... tale told by an idiot... signifying nothing." A tale, or a "fairy-tale," perhaps?
But then, another call... "My broker said he was mistaken." So he is not "broke" at all, and he luckily did not worry his wife for nothing. The broker adds that he hopes that his "faith isn't shaken." He's a bit late for that...
Well, most people would be overjoyed at such news, and our speaker is. "Acts of kindness," he says, "release the spirit with a whoop and a shout."
But even in this state of relief, he feels changed. What if the second call had not come? What if something like this were to actually happen? Just because it wasn't real this time does not mean it could not someday be so.
So he closes by saying that, while he has not necessarily written off prayer altogether (which is good, considering "Wartime Prayers" was just two songs ago), that the idea of an organized religion is no longer appealing. If anything, life obviously rests daintily on chaos-- on plate tectonics and other shifting realities-- to simply accept and trust, to impose a structure on a faith.
He says, "I don't believe we were born to be sheep... To pantomime prayers with the hands of a clock." This last line can be read two ways. One is "[along] with the hands of a clock," at set times. The other is "with hands like clock hands," with rigidity and a mechanical attitude. If life is fluid, then prayer must be as well. You should be able to pray when you need to!
And maybe you should not believe in fairy tales or rely on kindness or even have perfect faith in love. Maybe faith has to be be as fluid as life itself is, with swells and ebbs and tides.
Galileo responded to accusations that his science was a form of heresy by saying that he did not believe that God gave us brains and then wanted us to not use them. Questioning is not the opposite of faith-- it is a form of faith. It is the belief that, even when we question, there is an answer.
So no, the speaker says, "I don't believe... I do something better: I trust."
Next Song: Another Galaxy
The speaker (probably Simon, given whom he quotes later) begins this song by saying that another fairy-tale we hear is that "acts of kindness... lead us past dangers." But "I don't believe," he says, that this is the case. Continuing the image of a tale told around a campfire or hearth-fire, he says "I lean closer to the fire, but I'm cold." He wants to believe, that is, but his skepticism prevents it.
Then he tells another tale, about the creation of the world: "The earth was born in a storm" could refer to either The Big Bang or Genesis 1:6-7. The next words seem to be taken from Genesis 1:9-- "The waters receded, the mountains were formed"-- and scientists might agree that at some point, this happened through plate tectonics (adding that such movement is still happening), and that maybe the "waters" were in the form of icy glaciers. Simon's point is that in either case, there is a narrative, and you can choose to accept it or not.
The next line comes from a more recent source-- his wife! The "E.B." the quote is attributed to is Edie Brickell, who was remarking on the 2004 Bush vs. Kerry election that "the universe loves a drama." It's not enough that there be a narrative. It must be... dramatic! Even if it's just a bunch of exit-poll statistics.
What spurred all of this deep rumination on the subjective nature of reality? "I got a call from my broker/ The broker informed me I'm broke." Well. That could certainly shake up one's day. The breadcrumbs in the story were eaten by birds, you may recall, which is why the children could not find their way back home and ended up confronting the witch.
The speaker feels lost and betrayed. He feels that his "guardian angel" is, instead of guarding him, "taunt[ing]" him. Meanwhile, his children and wife, ignorant of their sudden impoverishment, are enjoying the "warm summer evening" by "laughing" and "brushing her... hair," with "not a whisper of care."
So here he was, being a responsible adult with investments and such, and then, poof! It is not surprising he is questioning the ephemeral nature of his narrative.
Yet, if he lacks faith in "acts of kindness," he has faith in something else. "I don't believe a heart can be filled to the brim/ Then vanish like mist." Kindness is one thing-- it's a sheet of ice over a lake that may or may not be thick enough to walk on. But the heart is a boat, a bridge. If you have a firm relationship, you don't need to "depend," as Blanche DuBois does, on the "kindness of strangers."
Unless... "Maybe the heart is part of the mist/ and that's all that... could ever exist." What if his wife leaves because of this? He's been divorced twice already! How silly to trust love-- hasn't he learned?
"Maybe and maybe and maybe some more"-- This cry of despair echoes Macbeth's "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow." And like the weary King, he curses himself for having faith in anything: "Maybe's the exit that I'm looking for." Macbeth is looking for an exit, too: "Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a... tale told by an idiot... signifying nothing." A tale, or a "fairy-tale," perhaps?
But then, another call... "My broker said he was mistaken." So he is not "broke" at all, and he luckily did not worry his wife for nothing. The broker adds that he hopes that his "faith isn't shaken." He's a bit late for that...
Well, most people would be overjoyed at such news, and our speaker is. "Acts of kindness," he says, "release the spirit with a whoop and a shout."
But even in this state of relief, he feels changed. What if the second call had not come? What if something like this were to actually happen? Just because it wasn't real this time does not mean it could not someday be so.
So he closes by saying that, while he has not necessarily written off prayer altogether (which is good, considering "Wartime Prayers" was just two songs ago), that the idea of an organized religion is no longer appealing. If anything, life obviously rests daintily on chaos-- on plate tectonics and other shifting realities-- to simply accept and trust, to impose a structure on a faith.
He says, "I don't believe we were born to be sheep... To pantomime prayers with the hands of a clock." This last line can be read two ways. One is "[along] with the hands of a clock," at set times. The other is "with hands like clock hands," with rigidity and a mechanical attitude. If life is fluid, then prayer must be as well. You should be able to pray when you need to!
And maybe you should not believe in fairy tales or rely on kindness or even have perfect faith in love. Maybe faith has to be be as fluid as life itself is, with swells and ebbs and tides.
Galileo responded to accusations that his science was a form of heresy by saying that he did not believe that God gave us brains and then wanted us to not use them. Questioning is not the opposite of faith-- it is a form of faith. It is the belief that, even when we question, there is an answer.
So no, the speaker says, "I don't believe... I do something better: I trust."
Next Song: Another Galaxy
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Something So Right
This is a love song of the "I can't believe how lucky I am that an angel like you is with a mess like me" variety.
In the first verse, the speaker explains he is a mess because he is frantic with a "fever"-ish panic, and she douses that with "cool water." In case that isn't clear, he repeats that he was "in a crazy motion" and that she "calmed [him] down."
In the second verse, the speaker is a mess because he is emotionally closed off. While the speaker of "I Am a Rock" says: "I build walls deep and mighty/ That none may penetrate," that seems small next to the wall this speaker builds, which is "a thousand miles long" (the Great Wall of China is about 4,000 miles long, incidentally). Yet, she was able overcome these formidable defenses and "to get next to" him.
In the bridge, he talks about how "some people" can't bring themselves to say "I love you," let "long" to "be told" exactly that. Hmmm, who might one of those hypothetical "people" be? This is yet another way he is a mess.
The chorus adds a fourth: "When something goes wrong/ I'm the first to admit it." This certainly means he is willing to admit that something is awry or amiss. But while it doesn't say he also accepts responsibility for the problem, it sort of implies that he does.
Meanwhile, "When something goes right," he is so pessimistic that he he can't believe or accept that it did happen: "It's apt to confuse me/It's such an unusual sight."
He is so used to things going wrong, he "can't get used to something so right." He is so accustomed to disappointment that he can't acknowledge that something good has happened to him, and he can't trust that it will last.
So here we have an anxious, introverted, undemonstrative person with a tendency toward doubt... and self-doubt. No one can say this person is not self-aware-- even a bit self-critical.
Yet, this amazing woman felt he was still worth it, and stuck with him until he was able to trust and appreciate her. With this song, he thanks her and expresses his astonishment that she is with him at all, let alone still with him.
This song is the inverse of a song like "My Funny Valentine," in which the woman says what's wrong with the man, yet she still loves him. This might be his response, in which he says, "Me? You want me? My mouth is a little weak and my figure is less than Greek! You... sure? Wow! That's great!"
Musical note: A previous incarnation of this song is called "Let Me Live in Your City." The verses are the same, but the choruses, which have the same melody of the final version, have these lyrics:
"Let me live in your city
The river’s so pretty, the air is so fine
Let me room where I can lay over
I’m just a traveler eating up travelin’ time
I’m just a traveler eating up
My travelin’ time."
IMPACT: The song went to #7 on the UK charts. It is very popular among female singers. British songstress Annie Lennox covered it on her Medusa album. It was also covered by songbirds Barbra Streisand, Simon collaborator Phoebe Snow, and country singer Trisha Yearwood. Someone tell Adele.
Next Song: One Man's Ceiling is Another Man's Floor
In the first verse, the speaker explains he is a mess because he is frantic with a "fever"-ish panic, and she douses that with "cool water." In case that isn't clear, he repeats that he was "in a crazy motion" and that she "calmed [him] down."
In the second verse, the speaker is a mess because he is emotionally closed off. While the speaker of "I Am a Rock" says: "I build walls deep and mighty/ That none may penetrate," that seems small next to the wall this speaker builds, which is "a thousand miles long" (the Great Wall of China is about 4,000 miles long, incidentally). Yet, she was able overcome these formidable defenses and "to get next to" him.
In the bridge, he talks about how "some people" can't bring themselves to say "I love you," let "long" to "be told" exactly that. Hmmm, who might one of those hypothetical "people" be? This is yet another way he is a mess.
The chorus adds a fourth: "When something goes wrong/ I'm the first to admit it." This certainly means he is willing to admit that something is awry or amiss. But while it doesn't say he also accepts responsibility for the problem, it sort of implies that he does.
Meanwhile, "When something goes right," he is so pessimistic that he he can't believe or accept that it did happen: "It's apt to confuse me/It's such an unusual sight."
He is so used to things going wrong, he "can't get used to something so right." He is so accustomed to disappointment that he can't acknowledge that something good has happened to him, and he can't trust that it will last.
So here we have an anxious, introverted, undemonstrative person with a tendency toward doubt... and self-doubt. No one can say this person is not self-aware-- even a bit self-critical.
Yet, this amazing woman felt he was still worth it, and stuck with him until he was able to trust and appreciate her. With this song, he thanks her and expresses his astonishment that she is with him at all, let alone still with him.
This song is the inverse of a song like "My Funny Valentine," in which the woman says what's wrong with the man, yet she still loves him. This might be his response, in which he says, "Me? You want me? My mouth is a little weak and my figure is less than Greek! You... sure? Wow! That's great!"
Musical note: A previous incarnation of this song is called "Let Me Live in Your City." The verses are the same, but the choruses, which have the same melody of the final version, have these lyrics:
"Let me live in your city
The river’s so pretty, the air is so fine
Let me room where I can lay over
I’m just a traveler eating up travelin’ time
I’m just a traveler eating up
My travelin’ time."
IMPACT: The song went to #7 on the UK charts. It is very popular among female singers. British songstress Annie Lennox covered it on her Medusa album. It was also covered by songbirds Barbra Streisand, Simon collaborator Phoebe Snow, and country singer Trisha Yearwood. Someone tell Adele.
Next Song: One Man's Ceiling is Another Man's Floor
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