It is difficult to divorce this song from the movie One-Trick Pony, as Jonah is the main character of the movie, and the part Simon plays in it.
So maybe we can see why Simon chose his character's name to be Jonah. In the prophet's tale, Jonah is supposed to deliver a prophecy from God to a city, but defiantly sets sail in the opposite direction. God sends a storm over his boat and Jonah explains to the terrified sailors that it's his fault and they should throw him overboard, which they reluctantly do. But how to deliver Jonah to his God-directed destination, that he may in turn deliver his message? God sends a giant "fish" (as the text has it) to swallow him and carry him there in its belly. Jonah is spewed ashore before the city... and delivers the prophecy to its inhabitants as he was supposed to in the first place.
How is Jonah, the character, like Jonah, the reluctant prophet? The song explains, although not right away.
Like "The Road" (the Danny O'Keefe song popularized by Jackson Browne), "On the Road Again" by Willie Nelson," Bob Seger's "Turn the Page," or Simon's own "Homeward Bound," this song is an autobiography of a travelling musician. (For another beautiful example, find Pierce Pettis' "Envelopes of Light," with EWI by Michael Brecker, whom we discussed earlier.) In point of fact, Simon and his Jonah character are both road musicians on never-ending tour.
The opening verse shows an average gig from the musician's viewpoint: Is my guitar in tune? How is the room filling up? Any cute "local girls" around?
Then, this odd line: "Misinformation/ Plays guitar." Does the musician somehow personify misinformation? "Disinformation" would imply willful deceit. But "misinformation" can be unwitting: "I'm sorry I said the movie started at 8:00 and you were late-- it had started at 8:00 last night, when I went myself, so I assumed it would stay the same the following night."
But how does a musician misinform his/her audience? There can be many answers-- for instance, the "truth contained by a lie" idea that fiction writers discuss. The chorus provides another, specific one: that the assertion that Jonah was swallowed by a "whale" has no "truth."
What is the truth? "I know (that) Jonah, he was swallowed by a song."
Jonah the prophet had his ideas about what he was going do with his life... and he was wrong. God had other ideas for him that literally consumed him.
So too, Jonah the film character misses his family (as we will see in the next song) but is compelled to follow his music. He is swallowed by his songs, which carry him in a way he can't control.
Or... isn't he in control? Isn't travelling and singing his choice, when he could take an office job and be home for dinner every night? In the next verse, he admits that he holds his dream of musical success "tightly," and that it keeps him "warm" in the otherwise "cold" world. Somewhat like a gambling addict who feels, again and again, that the next hand will break his losing streak, he feels that "one more year" of honing the songs and performance will result in a "gold," or at very least, a performance worthy of that. And at the end of this year? "One more year" again.
Along this "circuit" of bars and street festivals and such, one runs into the same people over and over-- others chasing their similar dreams of stardom. Obviously, they don't all make it to the Grammys and MTV. So... "Do you wonder where those boys have gone?" What does become of those who don't make the majors?
And, these musician must wonder... "Good Lord-- How do I know if that has happened to me? No, it can't have-- I'm still out here, touring and getting gigs. It'll happen, it'll happen; I just have to keep at it until I get my break."
They get swallowed by the songs as Jonah was by the fish. It must feel that the songs are in control, carrying them around from port to port, from bar to festival, and back around, to deliver their prophecies. And the Jonahs, prophetic or musical, are just along for the ride.
Next Song: God Bless the Absentee
Monday, July 25, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Nobody
Last entry, we discussed the songwriting method that uses a stock phrase or cliche as its basis. This entry, we see another popular tool in the songwriter's toolbox in use.
I call this idea "Making a List." The idea is to take what is basically a one-line idea and expand upon it by listing many examples. Take some great Temptations songs. Start with the idea "I can do many things that most would consider impossible, such as making a ship sail on dry land, but the truly impossible thing is winning your love" and you get "Can't Get Next to You." Start with "You are as good at something as the very thing that was made for that purpose, such as being as bright as a candle," and you get "The Way You Do The Things You Do."
The list this time is "Nobody does these things for me... except you." And like many list songs, each line starts with the same word, in this case, "Who."
Much of the imagery of the list is anatomical: "bone," "flesh," "eyes," "skin," "hands," "heart," and "blood." This choice relates to the sensuality and sexuality of the relationship-- "Who feels my flesh"-- as are other images from the natural world: "Who plows the earth," "When I am rising like a flood."
The other images are domestic: "bed," "door," "mirror." As Billy Joel put it, "You're My Home."
But the relationship is much more that sexual and goes beyond the bedroom. There is an emotional intimacy as well, one that shares a "secret" and a "dream," and even fears; "Who saw... the scream?"
There is a sense of support. She helps the speaker with his tasks ("Who took my two hands and made them four?"), and does things for him he cannot do for himself ("Who makes the bed that can’t be made?). She even helps him do things that are necessary but painful ("Who breaks the skin," and "Who is my blade?") like showing him his true self ("Who is my mirror?").
Lastly, she gives the encouragement to go out the "door" into the world and a "reason" for doing so.
The only problem? She's the only one who can provide these things for him. The answer to "who" is not just "you." It's "nobody but you."
Does he have no friends, no family, no colleagues? It seems not; he has "nobody in this whole wide world" but her.
Well, what is he supposed to do when she is not there? He believes she "feels his flesh" when he is gone, but he feels a black hole in his life when she is gone. The poor fellow seems not to be even able to shave himself without her, since she is his "mirror" and "blade."
There is a beauty in the intensity with which he needs her, but a sadness and weakness also in such dependency.
Coming back to Motown, we recall the song "Reach Out, I'll Be There," in which The Four Tops list all the situations in which the speaker will support the woman he is speaking to (the sentences start with "If").
And there is a difference, is there not, between "I love you for all the ways you support me" and "I love you and so I support you in all ways."
Next Song: Jonah
I call this idea "Making a List." The idea is to take what is basically a one-line idea and expand upon it by listing many examples. Take some great Temptations songs. Start with the idea "I can do many things that most would consider impossible, such as making a ship sail on dry land, but the truly impossible thing is winning your love" and you get "Can't Get Next to You." Start with "You are as good at something as the very thing that was made for that purpose, such as being as bright as a candle," and you get "The Way You Do The Things You Do."
The list this time is "Nobody does these things for me... except you." And like many list songs, each line starts with the same word, in this case, "Who."
Much of the imagery of the list is anatomical: "bone," "flesh," "eyes," "skin," "hands," "heart," and "blood." This choice relates to the sensuality and sexuality of the relationship-- "Who feels my flesh"-- as are other images from the natural world: "Who plows the earth," "When I am rising like a flood."
The other images are domestic: "bed," "door," "mirror." As Billy Joel put it, "You're My Home."
But the relationship is much more that sexual and goes beyond the bedroom. There is an emotional intimacy as well, one that shares a "secret" and a "dream," and even fears; "Who saw... the scream?"
There is a sense of support. She helps the speaker with his tasks ("Who took my two hands and made them four?"), and does things for him he cannot do for himself ("Who makes the bed that can’t be made?). She even helps him do things that are necessary but painful ("Who breaks the skin," and "Who is my blade?") like showing him his true self ("Who is my mirror?").
Lastly, she gives the encouragement to go out the "door" into the world and a "reason" for doing so.
The only problem? She's the only one who can provide these things for him. The answer to "who" is not just "you." It's "nobody but you."
Does he have no friends, no family, no colleagues? It seems not; he has "nobody in this whole wide world" but her.
Well, what is he supposed to do when she is not there? He believes she "feels his flesh" when he is gone, but he feels a black hole in his life when she is gone. The poor fellow seems not to be even able to shave himself without her, since she is his "mirror" and "blade."
There is a beauty in the intensity with which he needs her, but a sadness and weakness also in such dependency.
Coming back to Motown, we recall the song "Reach Out, I'll Be There," in which The Four Tops list all the situations in which the speaker will support the woman he is speaking to (the sentences start with "If").
And there is a difference, is there not, between "I love you for all the ways you support me" and "I love you and so I support you in all ways."
Next Song: Jonah
Monday, July 11, 2011
Ace in the Hole
One of the easiest ways to write a song is to expand upon a cliche: "Taking Care of Business," "Bad to the Bone," or even "It's a Small World."
It's not like Simon to do so, but then his One Trick Pony character, Jonah Levin, "wrote" these songs.
The real question is not why Simon chose to write such a song, but why it wasn't a hit. It has all the fun of "Kodachrome" or "Late in the Evening," with a nice, big blues-rock sound cranked out by a crack set of musicians.
Was it the opening, dismissive of Jesus, that made radio stations afraid to play it? Simply mentioning Jesus , as in "Mrs. Robinson," didn't seem to be a problem. But this first verse might have been one shade too sarcastic for general airplay.
The song itself is straightforward. An "ace in the hole" is a secret weapon, a sure-fire back-up plan, or, in another playing-card metaphor, a trump card. The song discusses various such aces in the hole and their varying dependability.
The first candidate is Jesus. The speaker dismisses this figure as a "man" and implies that if he cared, he would "call [him] on the phone."
Then Richard Tee's character, Clarence Franklin (Tee is Simon's keyboardist; more on him later), is introduced. Clarence explains that he has an "emergency" stash of $200.
Why that amount? "If you wanna get some quality/ That’s the price you got to meet." The item of "quality" in question is not mentioned, but one assumes that this is because the item is of an illicit nature, possibly drugs or a prostitute's attentions. While money is discussed good-naturedly, there is no overt disagreement or dispute as to whether it would provide an adequate ace in the hole.
The next "ace" to audition is self-awareness which leads to self-control: "...my ace in the hole/ Was that I knew that I was crazy." On a functional level, the speaker explains that he focused on moderation to avoid extremes: "I just walk in the middle of the road/ and I sleep in the middle of the bed."
This self-regulatory mechanism did have its drawbacks, however, because it served as a band-aid and did not address or rectify the problem at hand... which was that he was crazy. And so, even armed with self-knowledge and self-control as a way to safely navigate social situations, he would invariably (to use another playing-card metaphor) tip his hand and reveal his oddness by "stop(ping) in the middle of a sentence" while speaking. Why? To hear his brain saying that it was taking care of everything. Which, it then became clear to all present, it was not.
The last contestant is "music." The music doesn't have to be brilliant or special-- it can be "your basic rock and roll" (like, for instance, this very song! How handy.).
To "sit on top of the beat" is music jargon; it means to have the melody line adhere tightly to the rhythm, as opposed to swinging the melody, synchopating it, double-timing or half-timing it, etc. Simon takes this term and expands on it-- if a beat has a "top," it must have a "side" and a "bottom," no? And if you "sit" on top, you'd "lean" from the side and "hang" from the bottom, of course.
Listen to the verse again and you will hear the vocalists doing what they are describing. The first line does "SIT on TOP of the BEAT" (emphasis mine). The next holds the note on "Leeeean," imitating someone stretching out to lean. And the last line uses the fact that "bottom" has two syllables, plus the "b-t" alliteration of "bottom" and "beat," to syncopate the lyric.
However you relate this music, you have to "admit" that it is "sweet." We have a winner, folks-- music is the most reliable "ace in the hole."
Coming back to the bridge, about riding the tour bus, we see a foreshadowing of this realization. When he is on the bus, and the overcast, gray sky is "stony"-- stoic and unresponsive (shades of the reticent Jesus in the first verse)-- and the isolation and lack of distractions brings a flood of regret... then, when he is most in need of an ace in the hole, to what can he turn?
"Roll on, roll on," he tells himself. Just keep going to the next gig. The music is there, waiting for you to arrive.
Musical Note: Richard Tee was a very talented sideman. He worked with Simon on the track "Gone at Last," and later on his Hearts and Bones album. Further, Tee played in S&G's Concert in Central Park band.
He had long collaborations with Grover Washington, Jr., and George Benson. Much of his skill was spent creating sophisticated jazz with the likes of Quincy Jones, Lee Ritenour, Manhattan Transfer, Dave Sanborn, Lou Rawls, King Curtis, and Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
Tee specializes somewhat in backing female vocalists, including Diana Ross, Dionne Warwick, Roberta Flack, Jackie DeShannon, and Esther Phillips.
But he was not limited to any one genre, backing a wide variety of acts including James Brown, David Bowie, The Bee Gees, and Hall & Oates.
Tee's keys appeared on landmark albums like Aretha Frankin's Young, Gifted and Black, Billy Joel's The Stranger and An Innocent Man, and Peter Gabriel's So. And he had some success with his own band, Stuff.
Sadly, Tee died of cancer in 1993, at 49.
Next Song: Nobody
It's not like Simon to do so, but then his One Trick Pony character, Jonah Levin, "wrote" these songs.
The real question is not why Simon chose to write such a song, but why it wasn't a hit. It has all the fun of "Kodachrome" or "Late in the Evening," with a nice, big blues-rock sound cranked out by a crack set of musicians.
Was it the opening, dismissive of Jesus, that made radio stations afraid to play it? Simply mentioning Jesus , as in "Mrs. Robinson," didn't seem to be a problem. But this first verse might have been one shade too sarcastic for general airplay.
The song itself is straightforward. An "ace in the hole" is a secret weapon, a sure-fire back-up plan, or, in another playing-card metaphor, a trump card. The song discusses various such aces in the hole and their varying dependability.
The first candidate is Jesus. The speaker dismisses this figure as a "man" and implies that if he cared, he would "call [him] on the phone."
Then Richard Tee's character, Clarence Franklin (Tee is Simon's keyboardist; more on him later), is introduced. Clarence explains that he has an "emergency" stash of $200.
Why that amount? "If you wanna get some quality/ That’s the price you got to meet." The item of "quality" in question is not mentioned, but one assumes that this is because the item is of an illicit nature, possibly drugs or a prostitute's attentions. While money is discussed good-naturedly, there is no overt disagreement or dispute as to whether it would provide an adequate ace in the hole.
The next "ace" to audition is self-awareness which leads to self-control: "...my ace in the hole/ Was that I knew that I was crazy." On a functional level, the speaker explains that he focused on moderation to avoid extremes: "I just walk in the middle of the road/ and I sleep in the middle of the bed."
This self-regulatory mechanism did have its drawbacks, however, because it served as a band-aid and did not address or rectify the problem at hand... which was that he was crazy. And so, even armed with self-knowledge and self-control as a way to safely navigate social situations, he would invariably (to use another playing-card metaphor) tip his hand and reveal his oddness by "stop(ping) in the middle of a sentence" while speaking. Why? To hear his brain saying that it was taking care of everything. Which, it then became clear to all present, it was not.
The last contestant is "music." The music doesn't have to be brilliant or special-- it can be "your basic rock and roll" (like, for instance, this very song! How handy.).
To "sit on top of the beat" is music jargon; it means to have the melody line adhere tightly to the rhythm, as opposed to swinging the melody, synchopating it, double-timing or half-timing it, etc. Simon takes this term and expands on it-- if a beat has a "top," it must have a "side" and a "bottom," no? And if you "sit" on top, you'd "lean" from the side and "hang" from the bottom, of course.
Listen to the verse again and you will hear the vocalists doing what they are describing. The first line does "SIT on TOP of the BEAT" (emphasis mine). The next holds the note on "Leeeean," imitating someone stretching out to lean. And the last line uses the fact that "bottom" has two syllables, plus the "b-t" alliteration of "bottom" and "beat," to syncopate the lyric.
However you relate this music, you have to "admit" that it is "sweet." We have a winner, folks-- music is the most reliable "ace in the hole."
Coming back to the bridge, about riding the tour bus, we see a foreshadowing of this realization. When he is on the bus, and the overcast, gray sky is "stony"-- stoic and unresponsive (shades of the reticent Jesus in the first verse)-- and the isolation and lack of distractions brings a flood of regret... then, when he is most in need of an ace in the hole, to what can he turn?
"Roll on, roll on," he tells himself. Just keep going to the next gig. The music is there, waiting for you to arrive.
Musical Note: Richard Tee was a very talented sideman. He worked with Simon on the track "Gone at Last," and later on his Hearts and Bones album. Further, Tee played in S&G's Concert in Central Park band.
He had long collaborations with Grover Washington, Jr., and George Benson. Much of his skill was spent creating sophisticated jazz with the likes of Quincy Jones, Lee Ritenour, Manhattan Transfer, Dave Sanborn, Lou Rawls, King Curtis, and Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
Tee specializes somewhat in backing female vocalists, including Diana Ross, Dionne Warwick, Roberta Flack, Jackie DeShannon, and Esther Phillips.
But he was not limited to any one genre, backing a wide variety of acts including James Brown, David Bowie, The Bee Gees, and Hall & Oates.
Tee's keys appeared on landmark albums like Aretha Frankin's Young, Gifted and Black, Billy Joel's The Stranger and An Innocent Man, and Peter Gabriel's So. And he had some success with his own band, Stuff.
Sadly, Tee died of cancer in 1993, at 49.
Next Song: Nobody
Monday, July 4, 2011
Oh, Marion
In the previous song, it is unclear who the "bone-weary traveler" is. Is it the speaker, or someone the speaker sees from his motel window and identifies with?
Here, the pronoun shifts again. In the verses, the speaker refers to a "he," some confounding person. In the verses, the song has a man speaking in first person ("I think") to his lover, Marion.
We're going to have to assume that the "he" of the verses and the "I" of the chorus are the same person, otherwise what holds the two together? The "I" becomes "he"... when other people are discussing him.
The first verse opens with a line one might hear from a teacher about a distracted student: "The boy’s got brains/ He just refuse to use ’em and that’s all." The boy’s response is a version of "ignorance is bliss": “The more I get to thinking, the less I tend to laugh.” Simon revisits this idea in the twin songs "Think to Much" on his next album.
(In a moment of lyrical weakness or laziness, Simon ends the first verse with a new rhyme-- "brains/abstains," then gives up on that couplet idea for the second and third verses.)
In the second verse, his heart beats on his right instead of his left. This is no longer just a frustrating choice that beleaguers a teacher, it is something for a scientific journal: "a strange phenomenon/ The laws of nature denied." His response this time was that it was an adaptation make in reaction to some unnamed threat: "I shifted my heart for its safety’s sake.”
He refuses to use his mind, his heart's desires are dubious, and then he employs his nice singing "voice" to be duplicitous: "his words don’t connect to his eyes."
His response is hard to parse: "when I sing/ I can hear the truth auditioning.” An "audition" is an attempt to be heard, a prelude to being allowed to act or sing before an audience. So if the truth is "auditioning," at least he is trying to convey the meaning and emotion of the song.
So here is our man, according to those who know him-- purposefully unthinking, guarded in love, and prone to hiding his feelings.
Are we all that surprised that his relationship with Marion is "in trouble"? The true surprise is that he is in a relationship altogether.
He would rather "laugh" than "think." He hides his heart. He sings (to quote "Kathy's Song) songs he "can't believe." His entire life is lived as if he wants all of his experiences to be happening to someone else. In short, he is in massive, willful denial.
So of course he doesn't "believe" Marion at first when she says that their relationship is "in trouble." He doesn't want to think about it, he never allowed himself to get that close to her... and, like all insincere people, he cannot appreciate sincerity when he hears it.
What's his assessment? That love is a "game." (Which idea stands in direct contradiction to that of the speaker of "Congratulations," who says "love is not a game.") It is predictable that a shallow person such as this would be dismissive of love.
He also concludes that the game is "easy" for "other people." Once again, he externalizes his problems. Love is just a game he is not good at, like chess.
Suddenly, something is his problem. Something real, and really bad, is happening, and it is happening to him and not someone else. Well then, at least it's no one's fault (including his own). And of course there is nothing he could do about it anyway.
"Oh, Marion," we have to say, "How did you get mixed up with this guy in the first place?"
Next Song: Ace in the Hole
Here, the pronoun shifts again. In the verses, the speaker refers to a "he," some confounding person. In the verses, the song has a man speaking in first person ("I think") to his lover, Marion.
We're going to have to assume that the "he" of the verses and the "I" of the chorus are the same person, otherwise what holds the two together? The "I" becomes "he"... when other people are discussing him.
The first verse opens with a line one might hear from a teacher about a distracted student: "The boy’s got brains/ He just refuse to use ’em and that’s all." The boy’s response is a version of "ignorance is bliss": “The more I get to thinking, the less I tend to laugh.” Simon revisits this idea in the twin songs "Think to Much" on his next album.
(In a moment of lyrical weakness or laziness, Simon ends the first verse with a new rhyme-- "brains/abstains," then gives up on that couplet idea for the second and third verses.)
In the second verse, his heart beats on his right instead of his left. This is no longer just a frustrating choice that beleaguers a teacher, it is something for a scientific journal: "a strange phenomenon/ The laws of nature denied." His response this time was that it was an adaptation make in reaction to some unnamed threat: "I shifted my heart for its safety’s sake.”
He refuses to use his mind, his heart's desires are dubious, and then he employs his nice singing "voice" to be duplicitous: "his words don’t connect to his eyes."
His response is hard to parse: "when I sing/ I can hear the truth auditioning.” An "audition" is an attempt to be heard, a prelude to being allowed to act or sing before an audience. So if the truth is "auditioning," at least he is trying to convey the meaning and emotion of the song.
So here is our man, according to those who know him-- purposefully unthinking, guarded in love, and prone to hiding his feelings.
Are we all that surprised that his relationship with Marion is "in trouble"? The true surprise is that he is in a relationship altogether.
He would rather "laugh" than "think." He hides his heart. He sings (to quote "Kathy's Song) songs he "can't believe." His entire life is lived as if he wants all of his experiences to be happening to someone else. In short, he is in massive, willful denial.
So of course he doesn't "believe" Marion at first when she says that their relationship is "in trouble." He doesn't want to think about it, he never allowed himself to get that close to her... and, like all insincere people, he cannot appreciate sincerity when he hears it.
What's his assessment? That love is a "game." (Which idea stands in direct contradiction to that of the speaker of "Congratulations," who says "love is not a game.") It is predictable that a shallow person such as this would be dismissive of love.
He also concludes that the game is "easy" for "other people." Once again, he externalizes his problems. Love is just a game he is not good at, like chess.
Suddenly, something is his problem. Something real, and really bad, is happening, and it is happening to him and not someone else. Well then, at least it's no one's fault (including his own). And of course there is nothing he could do about it anyway.
"Oh, Marion," we have to say, "How did you get mixed up with this guy in the first place?"
Next Song: Ace in the Hole
Monday, June 27, 2011
How the Heart Approaches What it Yearns
The word "approach" is in the title, but mostly what happens in the song is the "yearning" part.
In this love song, it is unclear whether the speaker has broken up with the woman in his "dream," or if they have never had a romantic relationship to begin with. He does know her-- he can "distinctly hear" her voice, and is perhaps a friend. (In the version on In the Blue Light, the line becomes "I can hear your secret voice," implying intimacy, not simple acquaintanceship.)
But whether they were a couple before or not, they are not, now. And this is making him both "blue" with disappointment and "feverish" with desire.
The song is rich with the imagery of places. It begins in a motel room. The speaker is probably lying on his bed with the TV on, but he is not watching it. He is lost in thought, "wondering" how to "approach" what he "yearns" for. Then the song moves to "the side of the road," "the top of a hill," and a "phone booth at a local bar-and-grill" (in the In the Blue Light version, it becomes a "downtown bar-and-grill.")
There are even abstract places, like a "fever" and a "dream."
The song is also replete with the image of heat. First, the television passively "burns." Then, he has a "fever"-ish dream, from which he cannot wake. In the dream, there is "heat" and "fire."
After the speaker tells us about ignoring the TV and having his intense dream, the song shifts focus to another character, "a bone-weary traveler." Is this an actual person, or a dream image? Is the traveler the speaker himself? We know that he is in a hotel, so he is himself traveling. But he is not "by the side of the road," he is safe in a hotel bed. Unless he feels like he is "waiting by the side of the road."
About this man, the speaker wonders, "Where's he going?" If it's the speaker, we presume that he is in a motel as a stop-over on the way to a known destination. So if the question is metaphorical, the "where" could refer to where he is going in life-- toward his dream-woman or away from her.
Incidentally, it is "after the rain." This water image counters the hot images found elsewhere.
Now, we get to the dream. He does not dream that he and his would-be lover are marginalized "by the side of the road. Quite the opposite-- they are "lying on top of a hill," and are evidently making love. Again, the imagery is of heat: "Your voice is the heat of the night/ I'm on fire." (The In the Blue Light version eliminates the "I'm on fire" line. While this line predates the Springsteen song with this title by four years, that song is much more famous and Simon might have felt he would sound like he was quoting Springsteen instead of vice versa. Or maybe he just thought it was cliche.)
Notably, the entire line "I dream we are lying on the top of a hill" is not sung in the In the Blue Light version. The lack of this line, however, means it much less clear that the "rolling" business is only a dream. It could be an extension of the line "emerging from a dream, the dream returns" but there is a whole bridge about a "traveler" in between now. That, coupled with the knowledge of the "secret" voice, seems to imply the woman in question was a close friend or even a former lover, not just a passing acquaintance.
Enough "yearning"-- time to "approach." He calls her on a pay telephone at a bar. He does not get through, and his coin returns. He "approached," but so far he has not "reached."
He is in a state of coolness and passivity except when thinking about this woman. Aside from the cold/hot images, we have various verbs relating to passivity, lack of movement. When fantasizing of her, he "wonders," he "hears" (he never speaks to anyone in the course of the song), the traveler "waits," and he "rehearses," (but again does not get the chance to speak or perform).
But when he imagines himself with her, he becomes more active, and sees himself "rolling" in her arms. Ultimately, even in the case, he does not see himself as active-- he is in her arms-- she is holding and encompassing him, in his conception of the embrace, when presumably they would be holding each other. Alternately, the line could be "I roll you in my arms," in which case he would be the active one.
Two verbs more are repeated. One is the word "returns." First, the dream-- the one so intense he cannot wake from it-- returns (in the In the Blue Light version, her "voice" returns). Then when he tries to call his dream lover, his coin returns as well. He is moving in circles, returning and returning and never progressing-- yearning and approaching but never attaining.
Then the line "headlights slide past the Moon" is repeated in its entirety. Both the headlights and the Moon are round and yellowish and glow in the night. As enormous as the Moon is, is can appear as small as a headlight in perspective.
So we have the contrast of one light staying still, and a set of two lights moving "past" it and leaving it behind. This might be a symbol for his situation and desire. If he is one light, like the Moon, he stays in place-- wondering and waiting "by the side of the road." But if he were paired with her as headlights are, the two would "slide"-- with no friction-- on the "interstate," right past such a lonely moon... or roadside traveler.
Even the roadway itself is different to him when he sees himself with her. When one is "waiting on the side," it's just "a road." But to those "sliding" along it together, it is a sleek, wide "interstate."
Ultimately, he is no further along at the end of this series of events than when he started. The question is, now that his coin has returned, does he return to the phone booth to try her number again? Has his courage been permanently raised?
Well, there is no more imagery of heat, or movement, in this verse. Even the bar is "some local" one. So has this simple disappointment brought him back down to the level of despair again? Yeah, that's more likely the case.
In the version
Next Song: Oh, Marion
In this love song, it is unclear whether the speaker has broken up with the woman in his "dream," or if they have never had a romantic relationship to begin with. He does know her-- he can "distinctly hear" her voice, and is perhaps a friend. (In the version on In the Blue Light, the line becomes "I can hear your secret voice," implying intimacy, not simple acquaintanceship.)
But whether they were a couple before or not, they are not, now. And this is making him both "blue" with disappointment and "feverish" with desire.
The song is rich with the imagery of places. It begins in a motel room. The speaker is probably lying on his bed with the TV on, but he is not watching it. He is lost in thought, "wondering" how to "approach" what he "yearns" for. Then the song moves to "the side of the road," "the top of a hill," and a "phone booth at a local bar-and-grill" (in the In the Blue Light version, it becomes a "downtown bar-and-grill.")
There are even abstract places, like a "fever" and a "dream."
The song is also replete with the image of heat. First, the television passively "burns." Then, he has a "fever"-ish dream, from which he cannot wake. In the dream, there is "heat" and "fire."
After the speaker tells us about ignoring the TV and having his intense dream, the song shifts focus to another character, "a bone-weary traveler." Is this an actual person, or a dream image? Is the traveler the speaker himself? We know that he is in a hotel, so he is himself traveling. But he is not "by the side of the road," he is safe in a hotel bed. Unless he feels like he is "waiting by the side of the road."
About this man, the speaker wonders, "Where's he going?" If it's the speaker, we presume that he is in a motel as a stop-over on the way to a known destination. So if the question is metaphorical, the "where" could refer to where he is going in life-- toward his dream-woman or away from her.
Incidentally, it is "after the rain." This water image counters the hot images found elsewhere.
Now, we get to the dream. He does not dream that he and his would-be lover are marginalized "by the side of the road. Quite the opposite-- they are "lying on top of a hill," and are evidently making love. Again, the imagery is of heat: "Your voice is the heat of the night/ I'm on fire." (The In the Blue Light version eliminates the "I'm on fire" line. While this line predates the Springsteen song with this title by four years, that song is much more famous and Simon might have felt he would sound like he was quoting Springsteen instead of vice versa. Or maybe he just thought it was cliche.)
Notably, the entire line "I dream we are lying on the top of a hill" is not sung in the In the Blue Light version. The lack of this line, however, means it much less clear that the "rolling" business is only a dream. It could be an extension of the line "emerging from a dream, the dream returns" but there is a whole bridge about a "traveler" in between now. That, coupled with the knowledge of the "secret" voice, seems to imply the woman in question was a close friend or even a former lover, not just a passing acquaintance.
Enough "yearning"-- time to "approach." He calls her on a pay telephone at a bar. He does not get through, and his coin returns. He "approached," but so far he has not "reached."
He is in a state of coolness and passivity except when thinking about this woman. Aside from the cold/hot images, we have various verbs relating to passivity, lack of movement. When fantasizing of her, he "wonders," he "hears" (he never speaks to anyone in the course of the song), the traveler "waits," and he "rehearses," (but again does not get the chance to speak or perform).
But when he imagines himself with her, he becomes more active, and sees himself "rolling" in her arms. Ultimately, even in the case, he does not see himself as active-- he is in her arms-- she is holding and encompassing him, in his conception of the embrace, when presumably they would be holding each other. Alternately, the line could be "I roll you in my arms," in which case he would be the active one.
Two verbs more are repeated. One is the word "returns." First, the dream-- the one so intense he cannot wake from it-- returns (in the In the Blue Light version, her "voice" returns). Then when he tries to call his dream lover, his coin returns as well. He is moving in circles, returning and returning and never progressing-- yearning and approaching but never attaining.
Then the line "headlights slide past the Moon" is repeated in its entirety. Both the headlights and the Moon are round and yellowish and glow in the night. As enormous as the Moon is, is can appear as small as a headlight in perspective.
So we have the contrast of one light staying still, and a set of two lights moving "past" it and leaving it behind. This might be a symbol for his situation and desire. If he is one light, like the Moon, he stays in place-- wondering and waiting "by the side of the road." But if he were paired with her as headlights are, the two would "slide"-- with no friction-- on the "interstate," right past such a lonely moon... or roadside traveler.
Even the roadway itself is different to him when he sees himself with her. When one is "waiting on the side," it's just "a road." But to those "sliding" along it together, it is a sleek, wide "interstate."
Ultimately, he is no further along at the end of this series of events than when he started. The question is, now that his coin has returned, does he return to the phone booth to try her number again? Has his courage been permanently raised?
Well, there is no more imagery of heat, or movement, in this verse. Even the bar is "some local" one. So has this simple disappointment brought him back down to the level of despair again? Yeah, that's more likely the case.
In the version
Next Song: Oh, Marion
Monday, June 20, 2011
One-Trick Pony
First, let us define the term "one-trick pony." It refers to a creature with one, and only one, talent. Superman has multiple powers, from flying to X-ray vision, while The Flash can only run fast. A vegetable steamer can steam various vegetables, while a rice cooker can only cook rice. You get the idea.
In this case, the "pony" in question is a performer. Simon likens a musician to a circus animal, performing the same trick over and over in various cities.
Yet, the focus on this one action has led to a remarkable result. Rather than die of boredom or burn out, the performer has reached a state of divine perfection and grace: "He moves like God's immaculate machine."
The first verse makes this clear. While "he does one trick only," when he does it, "You can feel the heat of his heart" (and let's pause to acknowledge that small marvel of assonance and alliteration). All of his concentration is focused on this one task, and he is truly enjoying the performance of it.
The second verse repeats this idea: "He’s just a one-trick pony, that’s all he is/ But he turns that trick with pride."
One would assume that there are two sides to this hyper-focused perfectionism-- that someone that good at one thing would be bad at everything else. How many concert pianists, for instance, are also famed for their investment portfolios? How many football players are asked for advice on home repair?
And yet that is not the case. Our speaker, the audience of the performance, is amazed that he himself is not as good at navigating the life he has, the life he has had every day to practice and perfect, as this performer is at his art: "He makes me think about/ All of these extra moves I make."
This creature does "one trick" and does it well... and then has all of its other needs attended to, so he doesn't have to be good at anything else! Meanwhile, our speaker needs a whole "bag of tricks" to get through an average day. So the situation is not fair on the other end, either.
This performer has been given the luxury to hone his craft to the point of nearly holy perfection, then being able to "relax in the weeds."
In this case, the "pony" in question is a performer. Simon likens a musician to a circus animal, performing the same trick over and over in various cities.
Yet, the focus on this one action has led to a remarkable result. Rather than die of boredom or burn out, the performer has reached a state of divine perfection and grace: "He moves like God's immaculate machine."
The first verse makes this clear. While "he does one trick only," when he does it, "You can feel the heat of his heart" (and let's pause to acknowledge that small marvel of assonance and alliteration). All of his concentration is focused on this one task, and he is truly enjoying the performance of it.
The second verse repeats this idea: "He’s just a one-trick pony, that’s all he is/ But he turns that trick with pride."
One would assume that there are two sides to this hyper-focused perfectionism-- that someone that good at one thing would be bad at everything else. How many concert pianists, for instance, are also famed for their investment portfolios? How many football players are asked for advice on home repair?
And yet that is not the case. Our speaker, the audience of the performance, is amazed that he himself is not as good at navigating the life he has, the life he has had every day to practice and perfect, as this performer is at his art: "He makes me think about/ All of these extra moves I make."
This creature does "one trick" and does it well... and then has all of its other needs attended to, so he doesn't have to be good at anything else! Meanwhile, our speaker needs a whole "bag of tricks" to get through an average day. So the situation is not fair on the other end, either.
This performer has been given the luxury to hone his craft to the point of nearly holy perfection, then being able to "relax in the weeds."
Ironically, "in the weeds" is an idiom with two similar meanings-- hopelessly behind at work, or bogged down in minutiae (likely from a golfer searching for an errant ball while the game progresses without them)-- neither of which imply "relaxation." So the meaning for this song might stem from the idea of a pony in a pasture, working in a field or arena, then relaxing in the weeds where no one mows. Of course, this being about a rock performer, it might also refer to the kind of, ahem, "weed" that promotes relaxation.
(That was a long aside, which did take this post into the weeds...)
Meanwhile, those in the audience, who must do everything, don't get to be good at anything. And so they just wander around, "herky-jerky," doing everything partway and calling it good enough.
Additionally, once the trick is perfected, "that's all a pony needs." How many performers never replicate an early hit's success, yet are lionized and made financially comfortable forever after because of it? And yet the average person changes relationships and careers and homes constantly.
There is a mixture of reverence and resentment here. An appreciation for the wonder that is being seen, yet a jealousy at not having been given the time to achieve it oneself.
There is also some recognition that, no matter how long one would have practiced, one lacks the talent to do what one is witnessing. This acceptance is manifested by the religious imagery: "God," "immaculate," "testimony." Watching a God-given talent can be a somewhat religious experience. And there is a realization that there is a reason beyond rehearsals that allows this creature, and not others, to have some time "in the spotlight."
IMPACT: Simon's performance of the song was nominated for a Grammy. The song went to #40 on the US charts. In his biography, Paul Simon: A Life, Marc Eliot confuses this track's chart position with that of Late in the Evening, which did go to #6, not this track. Anyone can make a mistake, but someone should have realized that Late was not mentioned even though it was the standout hit from the soundtrack.
Next Song: How the Heart Approaches What It Yearns
Meanwhile, those in the audience, who must do everything, don't get to be good at anything. And so they just wander around, "herky-jerky," doing everything partway and calling it good enough.
Additionally, once the trick is perfected, "that's all a pony needs." How many performers never replicate an early hit's success, yet are lionized and made financially comfortable forever after because of it? And yet the average person changes relationships and careers and homes constantly.
There is a mixture of reverence and resentment here. An appreciation for the wonder that is being seen, yet a jealousy at not having been given the time to achieve it oneself.
There is also some recognition that, no matter how long one would have practiced, one lacks the talent to do what one is witnessing. This acceptance is manifested by the religious imagery: "God," "immaculate," "testimony." Watching a God-given talent can be a somewhat religious experience. And there is a realization that there is a reason beyond rehearsals that allows this creature, and not others, to have some time "in the spotlight."
IMPACT: Simon's performance of the song was nominated for a Grammy. The song went to #40 on the US charts. In his biography, Paul Simon: A Life, Marc Eliot confuses this track's chart position with that of Late in the Evening, which did go to #6, not this track. Anyone can make a mistake, but someone should have realized that Late was not mentioned even though it was the standout hit from the soundtrack.
Next Song: How the Heart Approaches What It Yearns
Monday, June 13, 2011
That's Why God Made the Movies
The story told in this song is extremely sad, yet there seems to be a sarcasm about the telling of it by the speaker. Whether the sarcasm is bitter or dismissive-- or both-- is hard to tell. Maybe the speaker has mixed emotions about his mother dying on his birthing table; maybe one of those emotions is such a deep sorrow that he dare not approach it, for fear of falling inescapably in. So he builds a protective wall of nonchalance around it.
Surely, we cannot take what is said about the story literally. The main character is a newborn who can talk, walk, and even "pack" his own "bag." Later, he claims he was raised "by wolves."
Then come two more seemingly unrelated thoughts. The song shifts in the chorus to a love song. The speaker pleads with his lover not to leave, to accept him for who he is.
And then there is the repeated line about God having invented the film industry.
What's going on here?
Let's agree that the speaker's mother did, in fact, die in childbirth. What would have happened, absenting any family to claim him, would be that the foster care system would take charge of him. Being raised by unfamiliar people and a bureaucratic system could certainly feel like stealing away in to the night and being raised by "wolves," especially if those who fostered him were uncaring and only in it for the stipend.
Now that he is an adult, he is sharing his painful story with his lover. He pleads with her not to leave-- he is trying to explain why he would have what today are called "abandonment issues." "Say you won't leave me for no other man," he begs.
He is trying to make this woman replace his mother: "...take me to your loving breast/...nourish me." As if to make it clear that this is the case, Simon refers back to the previous song with next the line: "...the way the ladies sometimes do." Recall that in the immediately previous song, "Late in the Evening," the speaker's mother laughed "the way some ladies do."
With "Say you'll love me just the way I am," the speaker asks for acceptance not just in the general sense-- all people long to be accepted-- but for his specific issues and "baggage." His mother died just as he was born, and this loss is still painful, and he would have a very hard time experiencing another such loss.
As for "the movies," look at the images Simon pairs with that line. In the first and third verses, we have the last words "I'll only be gone for a while," and the idea of a feral child. These are movie-level experiences, heightened and false. They only happen in the realm of the imagination.
Then the line about movie is preceded, in the second verse, with "hoping things would turn out right." Is this as imaginative and fanciful a concept? Do things, in fact, only turn out right in fiction?
So it is possible that God made the movies because such imaginings needed somewhere to reside. Somewhere both visual and auditory, and in some means through which they could be shared with others. Both movies (which this song is in a soundtrack of) and music (which is what the movie itself is about) fill this bill.
Another reason is that movies, by dint of their artifice, allow an escape from the true pains of life. It is true that mothers die in childbirth. It is true that children are raised by those who would qualify as "wolves," or are left to fend for themselves.
And what could be a bulwark against having to deal with the severity of that reality, especially if one were facing it oneself? Sarcasm. Love, both parental and romantic. Art. All of these for alternate realities in which one might escape from the real reality. All create worlds in which things can "turn out right."
I don't feel too much should be made of the mention of God. It seems to simply be part of an idiom, meaning "that's why X exists." There is no expansion on the concept of God, no other religious or Biblical images that make religion an overarching theme. However, if any-One knew that humans need to escape reality once it a while, it would be the Architect of reality and humans both. (Tune in next week, though, for a song that mentions God and is surprisingly religious despite its other themes).
On one level, this is a song about a man who, losing his mother, seeks to make his lover a surrogate maternal figure. On a larger level, it is about the need to find an escape, a haven, from the brutal realities of life.
But it must be mentioned that this is a song about the power and necessity of movies... that was written for a movie.
Next Song: One Trick Pony
Surely, we cannot take what is said about the story literally. The main character is a newborn who can talk, walk, and even "pack" his own "bag." Later, he claims he was raised "by wolves."
Then come two more seemingly unrelated thoughts. The song shifts in the chorus to a love song. The speaker pleads with his lover not to leave, to accept him for who he is.
And then there is the repeated line about God having invented the film industry.
What's going on here?
Let's agree that the speaker's mother did, in fact, die in childbirth. What would have happened, absenting any family to claim him, would be that the foster care system would take charge of him. Being raised by unfamiliar people and a bureaucratic system could certainly feel like stealing away in to the night and being raised by "wolves," especially if those who fostered him were uncaring and only in it for the stipend.
Now that he is an adult, he is sharing his painful story with his lover. He pleads with her not to leave-- he is trying to explain why he would have what today are called "abandonment issues." "Say you won't leave me for no other man," he begs.
He is trying to make this woman replace his mother: "...take me to your loving breast/...nourish me." As if to make it clear that this is the case, Simon refers back to the previous song with next the line: "...the way the ladies sometimes do." Recall that in the immediately previous song, "Late in the Evening," the speaker's mother laughed "the way some ladies do."
With "Say you'll love me just the way I am," the speaker asks for acceptance not just in the general sense-- all people long to be accepted-- but for his specific issues and "baggage." His mother died just as he was born, and this loss is still painful, and he would have a very hard time experiencing another such loss.
As for "the movies," look at the images Simon pairs with that line. In the first and third verses, we have the last words "I'll only be gone for a while," and the idea of a feral child. These are movie-level experiences, heightened and false. They only happen in the realm of the imagination.
Then the line about movie is preceded, in the second verse, with "hoping things would turn out right." Is this as imaginative and fanciful a concept? Do things, in fact, only turn out right in fiction?
So it is possible that God made the movies because such imaginings needed somewhere to reside. Somewhere both visual and auditory, and in some means through which they could be shared with others. Both movies (which this song is in a soundtrack of) and music (which is what the movie itself is about) fill this bill.
Another reason is that movies, by dint of their artifice, allow an escape from the true pains of life. It is true that mothers die in childbirth. It is true that children are raised by those who would qualify as "wolves," or are left to fend for themselves.
And what could be a bulwark against having to deal with the severity of that reality, especially if one were facing it oneself? Sarcasm. Love, both parental and romantic. Art. All of these for alternate realities in which one might escape from the real reality. All create worlds in which things can "turn out right."
I don't feel too much should be made of the mention of God. It seems to simply be part of an idiom, meaning "that's why X exists." There is no expansion on the concept of God, no other religious or Biblical images that make religion an overarching theme. However, if any-One knew that humans need to escape reality once it a while, it would be the Architect of reality and humans both. (Tune in next week, though, for a song that mentions God and is surprisingly religious despite its other themes).
On one level, this is a song about a man who, losing his mother, seeks to make his lover a surrogate maternal figure. On a larger level, it is about the need to find an escape, a haven, from the brutal realities of life.
But it must be mentioned that this is a song about the power and necessity of movies... that was written for a movie.
Next Song: One Trick Pony
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