Die Alone -- Girls and Boys Review

Some time ago, while I was still posting almost daily on this blog, my cousin recommended an album for me to review (and analyze) as I had Forget and Not Slow Down. It was Girls and Boys by Ingrid Michaelson. Around that time I sat down and transcribed the lyrics to most of the songs on the album as I heard them. Then I sat on the lyrics, at first waiting for a time that I could listen to them and analyze the lyrics and music to get at the meaning and, less importantly, let you know if the songs are any good.

I can tell you most of the songs are pretty good in my book, if that helps.

Time passed, and distance made the heart grow more apathetic. I stopped blogging on here for what, four months? I've been sitting on a lot of drafts and not taking the time to dig into them, but now I'm getting to them because I'll be remiss if I let myself have a backlog when I'm supposed to have all this time on my hands. So pretty soon I'll be rolling out my song reviews for Girls and Boys and weighing in on the album as a whole. This may be my Monday posts for few months, or I might schedule them more sporadically. We'll find out when it happens, won't we?

Another note I wanted to make before I launched into this was that I loved on Forget and Not Slow Down hard last year, and Relient K's latest outing Collapsible Lung disappointed me so much that I cannot listen to older RK and feel the same way as I did. There might be a blog post, even a review of the new album, at some point. In fact, there's enough music for me to open up another day just for music talk.

Hit me up with your opinions about that. Any feeback is nope can't say it.

Let's get started.

Die Alone

(Ingrid Michaelson)

I woke up this morning

A funny taste in my head

Spackled some butter

over my whole-grain bread

Something tastes different

maybe it’s my tongue

something tastes different

suddenly I’m not so young

I’m just a stranger

Even to myself

A rearranger

of the proverbial bookshelf

Don’t be a fool girl

Tell him you love him

Don’t be a fool girl

You're not above him

I never thought I could love 

anyone but myself

now I know I can't love

Anyone but you

but you make me think that maybe I won't die alone

Maybe I won't die alone

Kiss the boys as they walk by

Call me their baby

But little do they know

I'm just a maybe

Maybe my baby will be the one to leave me sore

Maybe my baby will settle the score

I never thought I could love

anyone but myself

now I know I can't love

anyone but you

but you make me think that maybe I won't die alone

Maybe I won't die alone

What have I become?

Something soft

and really quite dumb

'cause I've fallen

'cause I've fa—fallen

'cause I've fall—fall—fallen

so far away from the 

place where I started from

I never thought I could love anyone

I never thought I could love anyone

I never thought I could love anyone

but you but you but you

(I never thought I could love anyone)

but you make me think that maybe I won't die alone

Maybe I won't die alone

---

First off, the beginning of this song is mighty tasty. I don't know what the style for the guitar is called. Blues came to my mind. Maybe it's more R&B? Or maybe I'm totally off. The play is three eighth notes on guitar before a snare hit on the beat. The distortion is used sparingly. This ain't a rock album, folks, not that rock is the only thing using distortion these days. The album's genre is listed as "pop-folk." I don't even. I can't wrap my head around today's classifications.

I'm noticing a lot of what sound like hand drums on this album, which is something I like. In this song they take a back seat to the electric guitar and drum kit, but that's fine.

Like I was saying, this song is tasty for the ears. The majority of the song is tonally minor, which suits my sensibilities. Michaelson's delivery blends just the right sweetness and edge to sell the lyrics. Okay, that's enough music talk for now. Lyrics time.

The first verse's lyrics are as tasty as the music, honestly. Our speaker wakes up (the opening line to the album, by the way) with "a funny taste in" her "head." That unusual sense pairing sets the tone for the song. A little tongue in cheek. A little off-kilter. As I mentioned parenthetically a moment ago, this opening stanza also colors the whole album experience (if you're listening sequentially like a good little consumer). The lines about "spackling" (an uncommon verb) butter onto "whole-grain bread" further characterize the speaker's predicament as something that takes place in the mundane world. There's still breakfast to make (and healthy choices to make about it). I think this emphasizes the intrusions of the speaker's sudden strange affliction. The next stanza says it plainly, albeit still strangely. "Something tastes different," Michaelson says. It could be her tongue, but the last line of that thought throws the whole concept of food out the window. She's abruptly "not so young."

A musical interlude breaks up the first two stanzas from the third, in which Michaelson says she's a "stranger/ even to" herself. She calls herself a "rearranger" of "proverbial bookshel[ves]." This is a person who doesn't know who she is, and this seems to unnerve her. This has all been back drop for the subject of the song, which starts in the next stanza.

The speaker addresses herself, goading her to man up and tell her love interest her feelings. The presence of this stanza amidst the rest of the monologue, as well as the melodic line it inhabits, creates the impression to me that the command comes from another part of Michaelson's psyche, probably one a little deeper and less burdened by the uncertainty Michaelson has been describing.

We then come to chorus, where Michaelson speaks directly to her love. What the chorus says is that the speaker never expected to love another, but that to her surprise she finds she can only love her man (sort of a cliché thing to say), and that this leads her to hope she won't "die alone." It should be noted that outside the chorus Michaelson doesn't appear to be speaking to him (see the line "maybe my baby... after the first chorus"). This contributes to the sort of disjointing that the song dwells in. It is also significant because the song dwells on Michaelson and her mental and emotional state, without describing the object of her love in any detail. All mention of him is filtered through a focus on Michaelson.

This could be taken as a sign of selfishness, but that the chorus departs from this by addressing Michaelson's love directly, and is seen as a sign of hope, takes that superficial reading and turns it towards a deeper meaning. That this lover could mean a significant departure from Michaelson's present state. Like a new taste. Like getting older.

But hope is not grasped once glimpsed. After the first chorus we get this stanza, where Michaelson calls herself a "maybe," drifting through relationships, unless her "baby" can do something about it. What is startling is what Michaelson suggests her baby might do. "Leave" her "sore." "Settle the score." This implies there may be some guilt behind Michaelson's descriptions of her malaise of uncertainty, echoing the omen of "suddenly I'm not so young," which is a pretty tightly written way to refer to loss of innocence as it's often depicted. I'm just reading into lyrics here, trying to fit pieces, so that could be bunk. But it seems to me the speaker in this song wants to change but needs help as hard as it is to admit, and even though it will probably hurt (soreness).

After the stanza (which is structured differently from the first verse) is another instance of the chorus, then the bridge which follows the thoughts established previously. Michaelson is astonished at what she's become, but what is that? "Something soft/ and really quite dumb." We get another layer, and part of the reason this song is tonally minor. I think Michaelson is not someone who wants to need a man. I think that idea rankles her, but that regardless she feels what she feels, as the chorus indicates. I don't think that's all of it, as I suggested when I was talking about the second verse. But if, desiring to be strong and smart (rather than soft and dumb), you've closed yourself off (which is rather hard and sharp), then the process of opening yourself up again is going to be both painful and difficult. This would also explain why Michaelson says she's "fallen so from the place that [she] started from." You don't aim to protect yourself so that you can turn out cruel. And we all ostensibly start from somewhere at least partly innocent.

And we end with the chorus. I failed to mention earlier that the chorus is tonally major, at least to an extent, which also separates it from the rest of the song. We end with hope, even if the hope is that Michaelson "won't die alone." Those last words are delivered just as the music ends, and the last note is dark.

Now, I have to say that all of this context I've been reading in this song has an extra layer from Michaelson's deliver, that much of this is a little tongue-in-cheek. At least, there might be a bit of satire in this, that it's not as serious as all that (or is it?). You don't ever get the sense Michaelson's moping in her room, struggling with depression. It's not that kind of minor tonality.

My verdict on the song is that its good. It's fun. I don't think it's a masterpiece, but it does provoke some thought, and like I said to start with, it's tasty to listen to. I've gone on quite long enough. Now to get to work on the other reviews.

Somebody's Baby

Let's talk about this song.  The one that follows.  If you were there for Forget and Not Slow Down you'll know the deal.

Somebody’s Baby

Jon Foreman

She yells, “If you were homeless sure as hell you’d be drunk, or high trying to get there, or begging for junk, when the people don’t want you, they just throw you money for beer.”

Her name was November, she went by Autumn or Fall.  It was seven long years since the autumn when all of her nightmares grew fingers and all of her dreams grew a tear.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

And she’s somebody’s baby still.

She screams, “Well if you’ve never gone it alone well then go ahead you’d better throw the first stone you got one lonely stoner waiting to bring to her knees.”

She dreams about heaven remembering hell.  There’s a nightmare she visits and knows all too well.  Every now and again when she’s sober she brushes her teeth.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

And she’s somebody’s baby still.

Ah.

Today was her birthday, strangely enough when the cops found her body at the foot of the bluff.  The anonymous caller this morning tipped off the police.  They got her ID from her dental remains, the same fillings in tack the same nicotine stains.  Her birth and her death were both over with no one to grieve.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

And she’s somebody’s baby still.

She’s somebody’s baby still.

----

I don't have as much to say about this song as I did about the Relient K songs.  It's kind of really depressing, but it has this point that pretty much sums up how I feel about humanity.

It's bad, sad, and pathetic, but we still belong to someone.  Even if you disregard the thought of God, everyone has a mother, whether she was ever in the picture or not.  There's love somewhere.

And it'd be a whole lot better if we showed it to more people who need it.

There.  Nice and concise.  Now to live up to it.

It's Over (Or At Least It Can Be)

Okay, so I didn't blog yesterday.  Here's my explanation:  in the morning, my wife and I got up to go to a meeting that lasted till around noon (including driving time), after which I said good-bye to a good friend till Christmas and to my parents until about a week from now.  Then, really soon after that, we headed over to my cousin's, where we hung out all day and I marathoned Guild Wars 2 with him for most of that time.  So, I could have done my blog then, but I was kinda busy having an insane amount of fun.

But I intend to finish today.  So here we go.

So, this is the end, whether you want it or not.  And actually, bombshell, I might take a few days off of blogging again, both because this has actually been a lot of work and because I'm still probably going to be really busy in the coming days.

Unlike the other songs on the album, these last two aren't "afterthoughts" or "tags" to each other, they're really kind of two versions of the same song.  The first, though it starts off slow, primarily on the piano, breaks into a frenetic song and just keeps building until the sudden cut off into "(If You Want It)."  The second song is longer, with more esoteric lyrics, where the first, faster song is a bit more direct.  Let's take a look.

This Is The End
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I can't keep a straight face
And say this is not the end
Not if you want it it's upon us
And I wanna say it's sinking in.
Oh

This may sound crazy but I wanna come back home.
That's it I said it now I'm sailing off to Neverland and then Japan.

So think real slow
Don't forget that yes is yes and no is no
About the way you wanna go
'Cause I may forget the way to get back home

This is the end if you want it
This is the end

You're not the first thing in my life I've loved and lost
Yeah I've thought worse things
that I might be less inclined to merely just shrug off.
I took the fire escape and made it out alive.
Yeah I still burn from time to time
But I've a healing hand against my side.

So think real slow
Don't forget that yes is yes and no is no
About the way you wanna go
'Cause I may forget the way to get back home

This is the end if you want it
This is the end if you want it
This is the end

(If You Want It)
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)


I can't keep a straight face and say this is not the end
Not if you want it it's upon us and I wanna say it's sinking in.
If I was hasty maybe I was rushed along
I won't move into little boxes and then not get the itch to move on.

So think real slow
Don't forget that yes is yes and no is no
Melting prints of grass and snow
Means I may forget the way to get back home

This is the end if you want it
This is the end

You're not the first thing in my life I've loved and lost
Yeah I've thought worse things that I might be less inclined to merely just shrug off
You'll take me home
Like my family did my father did I know
You'll think real slow
And don't forget the speed that I can go
Away

'Cause this is the end if you want it
This is the end—

I've been convincing myself
That I'm worthwhile
'Cause I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be
Been convincing myself
That I'm worthwhile
'Cause I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be—

I met the devil and I stared her in the eyes
Her hair has scales like silver serpents
I a statue stood there mesmerized
I took the fire escape and made it out alive
Yeah I still burn from time to time
But I've a healing hand against my side

Blisters on my feet I crawl back home
Frozen from the sleet, burned sand and stone
Nourished back to life by life alone
With one shake of the mane regain
The throne.

----

One thing I'll mention is that the official lyrics for these two tracks are listed as one song.  Both songs start with the same line, "I can't keep a straight face and say this is not the end," and they continue to have lines in common (like fire escapes and thinking slow).  After the first line, "This Is The End" bursts in with guitars and drums in a faster, almost punk rock rhythm, though Thiessen's singing style retains some of its reflectiveness despite its passion.

There are themes of lostness here at the end that were mostly just foreshadowed in other songs on the album, except the wandering into the plains during the bridge of "Sahara."  This theme seems tied to the theme of travel in the album, and reflects Thiessen's struggle to be "certain the steps of left and right don't fight the direction of upright."  He admits that he wants to go home, but then says that he's going to two fantastic locations, one invented (Neverland) and one real (Japan).

Then he commands his subject to "think real slow" "about the way you wanna go," perhaps suggesting that this is the true last chance Thiessen is offering to his love.  He's saying, "Okay, I'm going this way.  You can come with me, or we can part ways."  And they do.

Thiessen reflects that he's had losses and heartbreaks before, and that he's "thought" of  "worse things" that could happen—there's that thread of "things could still be worse" again.  What comes next in "This Is The End" is Thiessen escape by fire escape—a desperate method, and an interesting metaphor considering what's happened to him.  I think this metaphor is intended to refer to the fire we hear in "Sahara," one in part "ignited" by himself to combat his desolation.  The metaphor extends to a physical injury, a burn (but only an occasional one) which is being helped by a Healing Hand.

Then the admonishment to think slow—and now I point out the irony considering Thiessen's stated policy of the album to not slow down—and the statement that this is the end are repeated, rising in intensity until Thiessen bites of the word "end" at the end of the track.

The transition into piano and voice alone is immediately, without an interlude between the "end" of the first track and Thiessen cutting in again with "I can't keep a straight face..."  I say there's just piano and voice, but as I listen through more closely there are also strings filling in the sound.  What you won't hear in the final track are guitars or drums.  You might say that Thiessen's bandmates have backed away for this song, so that he can finish it himself.

I think I might make a parsing of meaning between the two songs.  The first one is pretty clearly aimed at Thiessen's now-ex, but the second one has references that I think fit a You rather than a you, if you take my meaning.  I can't say it's all for Him, though, because the addition after the shared first line seems pretty well aimed at her.  However, it could easily be read that Thiessen is talking about the situation now with his Father.

There's some more ammunition against this, because at one point Thiessen refers to his "father" in third person while talking to someone else.  I think there are too many doubled meanings in these songs to say for sure it's meant to be just one thing over the other.  Especially in the quieter track, where more practical lines are replaced with images like melting snow contributing to Thiessen's inability to get home, the meanings are rather ambiguous (but still present).

It may be that there is a dark note to be read in this final track.  When I first saw the title for these last two tracks, I was worried that this might be Relient K's final album, or at least a threat of it.  I no longer think it was anything quite that superficial.  However, there seems to be more to this end (if you want it) than just the end of a relationship, and I think it ties back to my discussion of "Sahara" and Thiessen's revelation of his tendency to desert even as he has been deserted.

It's also hooked into the way we use some language about leaving this life, like "moving on."  I don't want to read too heavily into any idea of Thiessen wanting to kill himself, because I don't think that was ever something weighing too heavily on his mind.  However, there is still that thread, if we read Thiessen as also saying to God, "This is the end if you want it."  I think a clearer reading might be that if God wanted to be done with him, Thiessen would accept that because of how he's been.  In that light, Thiessen is having a conversation with one person who we know wants this to be the end, and another Who isn't giving up on him yet.

So Thiessen talks about wanting to go home, but not going (heading instead to Japan), about forgetting the way, and losing his tracers.  Then he says:  "You'll take me home, like my family did my father did I know."  To me this means that God will guide him because he can't guide himself, and that Thiessen's own family nurtured him while he was struggling with the desolation.  Saying that "You'll think real slow," is a reprise of the thought from the first track, but also a reference to God working on His own time, and not ours.  Thiessen warns him, though, not to "forget the speed that [he] can go away," that he can wander off into the plains again.  He's still asking not to be turned loose, even if he turns his back.

In a bridge of sorts, Thiessen tells us that he's convincing himself that he's worth it.  There is a blow to the self-esteem you get when you're rejected, and it can be a delicate matter to rebuild it and keep a state that might be described as "egoless while self-assured."  It takes guidance.  This bridge is both a cut-in and a cut-out, where Thiessen's first word of it cuts off the "end" of the chorus-ish line, and the last word is cut off by the next section.

We get a strange sort of perspective of Thiessen's relationship here, right at the very end.  It seems he compares his former love to a Medusa-devil—a sort of succubus.  More accurately, he calls the Devil a woman with attributes of Medusa, and that it struck him.  It wouldn't be fair to say that this is his description of what his relationship with the lady was really like, but I think this had something to do with the end or it wouldn't belong here.  It's here we also get the return of the fire escape.  Whereas in "This Is The End" we aren't given an idea of what Thiessen is escaping from, now we have the image of him stumbling away from the Devil after recovering enough from being turned to stone, and now he's still recovering from that encounter with some Help.

Then, the end comes, as Thiessen crawls home with blistered feet, with images of weather-blasted condition, but that life (or Life) alone has saved him (as opposed to hiding under a rock, dwelling upon and slowing down).  The very last line returns to the lion metaphor of "Sahara," as a mane is shaken and a throne is taken.  In some ways, it's the Thiessen-lion stepping back in control of his life, and in others it's the Lion of Judah taking back His rightful place on the throne of Thiessen's life.  In all ways, the end of Forget and Not Slow Down hits a note of restoration with intent to carry on.  Now, this may not be in the same totally vibrant spirit as expressed at the start, but we know the strength is there to not "go slow."

I don't know that I have much else to say.  The album ends on a suspended chord that isn't the tonic of the key—which renders the effect of an ambiguous ending.  I think this is meant to say that in very, very important ways, this is not the end.

And I'm glad of that, because if Thiessen takes the sort of art from this album and applies it to the one Relient K is working on right now, it's going to be superb.  To be honest I'm a little afraid, because I hold this album in such esteem I might be disappointed.  Still, I trust Thiessen to be himself with his music, and he and his bandmates to make that music shine, so even if the next original Relient K album isn't as good as Forget and Not Slow Down, there's still tons of space for it to be a really good album.

And that's that, guys.  A week or so of blogging and I've analyzed a whole album of lyrics for you guys.  It's been suggested to me that I do more song reviews like this, and the idea is appealing, but like so many things in my life and my work, my word on this is "we'll see."

Peace out folks.

In Case Of Credulity

One of the first things I noticed listening to this song today was that the opening guitars riffs remind me of the melodic line of the verses in "Therapy."

So there's that.

Actually, I'm not done talking bout the musical aspects of this song.  Because they're amazing, frankly.  I don't have the modern musical vocabulary to explain to you what exactly about the blend of guitar and piano with right-on drums works so well, but it does.  There is one thing:   throughout this song there's a piano part running arpeggios at a brisk pace under the guitars and drums, and then at the end of the song that part comes out again, ending "If You Believe Me" on a reflective note—which is perfect to transition into the albums final two tracks.

I talked about how the end of Forget and Not Slow Down quiets as it comes to a close, but "If You Believe Me" is anything but quiet.  It's got some of the fire left over from Sahara, blended into a return of the more typical Relient K energy from the first few tracks, as if Thiessen is showing us that if he did slow down for this album, it's not because he's gonna stay that way.  I think, looking to the future beyond Forget and Not Slow Down, having this song here, with the energy it has, is essential for the message of the album.  Relient K isn't turning into a sad bad with extinguished fire.  They're still going strong.

This is in a bit of contrast with the words of the piece, but I'll let you take a look for yourself first.


If You Believe Me
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I got a chill and I wanted to say it was you
Be still because what I'm about to say is the truth
Unless we stretch until the point of nearly breaking in two
We'll never find our weakness coming unglued

A cracked sculpture I wanted to say it was you
Feeding vultures are why I feel the way that I do
I fell in love and I wanted to say it was you
I wanted to say it was you

If you believe me
We could stand the test of time like no one else
If you believe me
It means you'd have to disbelieve yourself

A sudden wind and I wanted to say it was you
I've never been so confused about who knows the truth
Where to begin well I wanted to say it was you
Because you swore you had your hand in this too

If you believe me
We could stand the test of time like no one else
If you believe me
You know it means you'd have to disbelieve yourself
If you believe me

'Cause I'm here wondering what could you be thinking?
Though I know you're there thinking that I wonder that all the time
I can still invade your thoughts when you're not with me
Yeah don't mind me I'm just a parasite on your mind
Yeah don't mind me I know you're wondering all the time

If you believe me
We could stand the test of time like no one else
If you believe me
It means you'd have to disbelieve yourself
If you believe me

----

Before I dive right into my lyrical analysis, I wanted to mention that this particular song is that hardest for me to decipher when it comes to what words Thiessen is actually saying.  So hard, in fact, that I actually dug out my cd case and consulted the official lyrics.  I've not done that for any of the songs before this one.  So this one has exactly the right lyrics, whereas the others might be a little off.  Now to the analysis.

He's talking to her again, clearly.  This song's placement after "Savannah" is important for another reason than just as a demonstration of good energy at the end of the album.  Yesterday I talked about the sort of flight of fancy "Savannah" entailed.  In it Thiessen both reflected on the relationship that was lost and told a sort of story about how it could get better again.
Now, Thiessen is addressing that story.

The thrust of this song is that the relationship Thiessen and the lady had was better than she thought it was, But he knows she's not going to have any of that.  This starts in the first verse, where Thiessen flat out tells her (with a warning to "be still" or pay attention) that if they got back together (thus the glue) it would take something very huge to break the relationship again.

Then, before we get to the chorus, Thiessen moves into another verse/stanza.  I think the cracked sculpture is a reference to the metaphor of the previous verse, that something damaged can still be beautiful.  The vultures I think are a call-back to "Sahara" and that song's theme of desertion and dying, and are probably why there's a bit of bite in Thiessen's voice and why he feels that, though the relationship could work, she's not going to give it another shot.  Still, he "fell in love" and he "wanted to say it was you."

The chorus just makes this feeling more explicit, because he says that if she believe him, believed the story he told in "Savannah" and what he's saying now, their life together would still be completely awesome, but she'd "have to disbelieve [herself]" because she, clearly, believes the opposite to him.

In the verses, Thiessen mentions that there are things he wants to pin on his ex, like chills and cracked sculptures and sudden winds.  He explains the reason for this at the end of the third verse, when he "begin[s]" with her swearing she "had her hand in this too."  I take this to mean she had promised to do her part in the relationship, but the way Thiessen says it makes it pretty clear he thinks she's not actually doing her part by bowing out.


And in the bridge, Thiessen reveal that, while he seems to do what she will decide, he doesn't know what she's thinking.  There's also the second meaning of "what could you be thinking:"  Incredulity that she's making the choice that she is.  This, and the line after it about her knowing that he's thinking about what she's thinking, are a pause in the song, which kicks right back up when Thiessen says he can "invade [her] thoughts" even "when [she's] not with [him]," that he's sure she thinks about him often, though she probably finds it unpleasant ("parasite").  And with a sort of triumph, Thiessen declares that the decision isn't so easy for her, that she's trying to decide if she believes him.


In this way, I think that this song is also narrator-Thiessen giving her another chance to be with him, even after what she did to him.  And we'll see what happens with that tomorrow, when I finish up my review/analysis of Forget and Not Slow Down with the final tracks "This Is The End" and "(If You Want It)."


See you then.

Mohave

Things are gonna go a little differently today.  I think, for the sake of it, I'm still gonna post the lyrics to "Sahara" in this blog post, but I'm also linking to the post back in May where I first talked about the song at length.  It's right there, in that link that's all bolded and hopefully colored, so click on it to read what I've already said about Sahara.  Again, my plan is to repeat myself as little as possible.

Somewhat tangentially, I've been listening to the corresponding song on repeat for the last several days while blogging about them.  Which means that today I get to listen to "Sahara" over and over and over again.  Excellence.

Read the lyrics.  Catch you on the tail end.

Sahara
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

Lying on my side knowing of thirst is how I'll die
Chalk on my tongue
Relying on the night
Beneath the dunes is where I lie to block the sun

Trying to ignite
Some sort of passion from inside to overcome
This feeling of desertion
Can't be worse than never having anyone

So I'll ask one thing
Just one thing
Of you
Don't ever turn me loose
Even when I turn my back

A lion on his side was it the lying
Or his pride which brought him down?
Once the king of beasts but
Now they feast on the thoughts beneath his vacant crown.

Trying to decide was it the lying
Or the pride which brought it down.
To be alone
To be dethroned
Believe me I know all about it now

So I'll ask one thing
Just one thing
Of you
Don't ever turn me loose
Even when I turn my back

I never told you then that I'd be easy to love
Supposedly I'm a man but I felt like a cub
I wandered into the plains further and farther away
Not ever knowing that I'd never come back the same

As my organs gave way I swear I felt something burst;
It's been thirteen days and now I'm dying of thirst
As for the birds of prey I pray that
Someone else will get here first

I am not alone
I'll be all right
Just take these bones
And breath them back to life

So I'll ask one thing
Just one thing
Of you
Don't ever turn me loose
So I'll ask one thing
Just one thing
Of you
Don't ever turn me loose (so I'll ask)
Don't ever turn me loose (one thing)
Don't ever turn me loose (one thing)
Even when I turn my back.


----


Right away we have that tone shift I mentioned a post or so ago.  "Over It" is pretty darn chill, and then all the sudden Thiessen's gonna die of thirst, and it sounds like he's actually pretty ticked about it, you know?  There's no song on the album that's as raw-voiced as "Sahara" is, that has so much bite and emotion colored on the rage end of the spectrum.  Part of this is the back-up voices behind him.  All the other voices in this song bring the energy too, and then there's the scoops.  Much of the chorus has subtly sliding notes with a dissonant effect.  This song ain't no pretty love ballad.  There's also the riffing guitars and pounding drums to contend with.  I've mentioned a few times how chill Thiessen has been till now.


Yeah, that doesn't apply to "Sahara."


You'll notice that even in this explosion of raw emotion Thiessen never directs ire at anyone in particular.  The subject of conversation here is the sense of dying alone in the desert, and a powerfully human defiance of this sense.  The first verse speaks of his knowledge of the coming end and the shelter he seeks from the sun, then it goes on to say that now he's "trying to ignite some sort of passion from inside to overcome this feeling of desertion."  This is a radical shift from the forgetting he seems to have been going for until now, and I say its an admission that while "time can let the mind forget" there's still the emotions to be dealt with, and all the bravado in the world can't hide how much a broken heart hurts.


This is a song about a man in pain, and it doesn't pull any punches.


Forget and Not Slow Down needed this song, or I don't think Thiessen would have written it.  Without "Sahara," I'm not sure the listener would realize what all the other songs were for.  And it's only now, more than halfway through the album, that Thiessen drops this bomb on us.  "Yeah guys, it hurts like hell.  More specifically, it hurts like I'm dying of exposure in the Sahara desert."  That's not literal quotes, but you get the idea.


Even so, Thiessen doesn't wallow.  There's work to be done, even when you're drying up in a blasted wasteland.  That's why he says "this feeling of desertion" he's fighting "can't be worse than never having anyone."  He still believes love is worth it, despite how it feels right now.  I have to point out, like I did the last time I talked about Sahara, that I love how he communicates his fight with "this feeling of desertion" and asserts his belief that it doesn't ruin the benefits of love without separating the clauses.  I should also talk about the other possible meaning of "never having anyone" as not necessarily referring just to romantic relationships (as it does idiomatically) but also to the idea of spending life utterly alone, as opposed to having loved ones and losing them.  Even now Thiessen's saying "things could still be worse."


And in the chorus, Thiessen makes an apology to God.  He asks God not to "turn [him] loose," even when he admittedly sometimes "turn[s] his back."  Thiessen knows himself well enough to know that he's not just a victim of desertion.  He does it to God himself.  So this song is layered again, as Thiessen knows firsthand now how desertion feels and so asks for forgiveness from the One he turns his back on.


The second verse, as I discuss briefly in my other post about "Sahara," introduces the metaphor of Thiessen as a lion.  This metaphor is important for a couple reason.  One, lions are close to the Sahara (geographically located on the same continent) and live on the Savannah, which is incidentally the title of the next song on the album.  And another, the metaphor comes back again explicitly in the end game.  We'll talk more about it there, but I wanted to point that out again so you have some foreshadowing (or maybe forewarning's a better word).  Again, I talked in my previous post about how Thiessen distances himself a bit from his "lying" and "pride" by placing them in the lion metaphor.  Incidentally, Thiessen also creates another metaphor for himself and his life, which turns the lion metaphor into a Narnian allusion, because he gives the lion a crown and a throne.  This does make it kind of sound like Thiessen is giving himself delusions of godhood, which is a sort of issue I've wrestled with on this album for a while.


But I think I get it now, in light of the chorus of "Sahara."  Now, Thiessen isn't saying that the Lion of Judah had lying or pride to bring Him down, but he is acknowledging both the imago dei and the desertion and desolation Christ suffered for our sins.  Thiessen sees this a little more clearly than he had before this break-up which has discombobulated him, as he says "to be alone, to be dethroned believe me I know all about it now."  


I've always taken the bridge's opening line "I never told you then that I'd be easy to love" as meant for Thiessen's ex, but the line also reminds me of one of his earlier songs, "Getting Into You," at one point in which Thiessen asks God if He knows what He's getting Himself into.  Funny that I thought of that, because of the many parallels I could find between the chill "Over It" and more angry prior songs like "Which to Bury," and this frenetic song has a parallel in a gentle song of worship.  


Thiessen extends his lion metaphor when he says he's supposed to have been a man but he felt like, not a child, but a cub.  He then admits that he wandered astray and that the journey changed him irrevocably.  He's dying, he's desolate, the scavengers are coming, but the bridge ends of a note of redemption.


"I am not alone," Thiessen says.  He's not the only one who's desolate.  He's not even abandoned in this desert like he feels like.  The Listener is there, and the line "to be alone, to be dethroned, believe me I know all about it" could easily have come from His lips.  Thiessen acknowledges this, and with this knowledge he knows he'll "be all right" so long as God "take[s] these bones and breathe[s] them back to life."


So he'll ask one thing of You.  Don't turn him loose, even when he turns his back.


Don't let me go, Daddy please don't let me go.  I'm sorry, don't let me go.


I think it's the child's pleading buried within the anguished rasping of a deserted man that make this song for me.  Or any number of things.  But that?  Oh man.

I don't think there's really anything else I can say about that right now.


I think Thiessen wasn't really honest about the content of his "therapy."  I think this song makes those car trips a little clearer to us.  I think it's also good that Thiessen's told us he's "over it" already.  We may be tempted not to believe him, but we know now that he's facing it down head on without slowing, just like he's been saying he wants to do all along.


"Savannah" is a bit slower paced compared to this one, and I've always viewed it as a breather to come down off the intensity of "Sahara."  We'll talk about that and it's "afterthought" "Baby" tomorrow, and after that there will be two more posts for Forget and Not Slow Down.  


I'm... not gonna think about that right now.


Catch ya later, folks.

Risen Above

Over It
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I'll admit to who I am
The day I come to understand
I haven't got a clue
Been searching for a few years now

If I don't repeat myself
Then I'll change into someone else
Well I don't quite know who
Been searching for a few years

Now I'm over it
Yeah behind me now I'm just over it
Over it
Yeah I'm finding out I'm just over it
No I don't know what's over just yet
But I won't go slow
And time can let the mind forget
Don't tell me you don't know
Already

I'll protect your universe
Or make a mess to make it worse
Well time will only tell
You and no one else so

I'm over it
Yeah behind me now I'm just over it
Over it
Yeah I'm finding out I'm just over it
No I don't know what's over just yet
But I won't go slow
And time can let the mind forget
Don't tell me you don't know
Already
Don't tell me you let go
Oh

You say you made up your mind and you finally decided
But those that helped you choose
Haven't the slightest clue as to
The magnitude of what you're about to lose

I'm guarded and therefore I can endure
A little bit more
Just a little more
Than some people would
If I'm not misunderstood
It's still an attempt to be egoless while self-assured
If I'm still unsure that I'm pretty sure
That I am pretty good
Oh God you know I'm good and

Over it
Yeah behind me now I'm just over it
Over it
Yeah I'm finding out I'm just over it
No I don't know what's over just yet
But I won't go slow
And time can let the mind forget
Don't tell me you don't know
Already
Don't tell me you let go
Already
Don't tell me you don't know
(Already)
Don't tell me you don't know
(Don't tell me you don't know)

(the sound of a door opening and closing)

----

In case you never listened to a single Relient K song before you started reading my analysis of Forget and Not Slow Down, there's a strong theme of self-discovery in Thiessen's songwriting.  Even the very first Relient K album had songs like "Balloon Ride," in which Thiessen metaphorically takes a ride in a balloon from which "everything seems clear."  His search for new/fresh perspectives, which coincides with his walk with the Lord, has been present from the very first, and he's telling us at the start of "Over It" that he's still not done learning new things about himself.  I commiserate with this, because all my life I've been making observations about my own behavior in an attempt to understand myself, and to guide my own behavior towards something a bit more conscionable.


This explanation is further complicated, because as Thiessen reveals people change or they stagnate.  It's why he's still searching for who he is—and incidentally who he'll become—and the need not to stagnate is why he continues to change.  The line from "Therapy" about having a death grip on transitioning life should be read with this concept in mind.


But now, Thiessen says, he's over it.  He's over searching for himself?  Maybe, but as the chorus develops he admits he doesn't really "know what's over."  Not yet at least.  Either way, he's determined not to slow down, and retreads the idea that maybe he can ignore the problem and let time heal all wounds by making him forget.  This seems to contradict the therapy he was getting in the previous song.  Maybe this is a bit of arrogance coming through, or maybe it's a resurgence of the sort of apathy Thiessen sang about in his song "Apathetic Way to Be," which is more about not making a big deal about things he can't change to much.  Either way, he seems to think he's over it.  


Then there's what may well be the central line of the song, "Don't tell me you don't know already."  Don't know what?  Well, I think that's the main point.  This could be a prod at the audience to pay attention, or a lament that his ex-love is forgetting him quickly.  It's also interestingly placed right after the line about time letting the mind forget.  But have you forgotten already?  The way Thiessen sings this line, with melancholy and disappointment, makes it necessary to tie at least part of the meaning to that line about forgetting.  There's evidence here, then, that Thiessen is conflicted about this idea of just forgetting.  He doesn't want it forgotten just yet, like it never happened at all.  This is important, because it explains some of the connection between "Over It" and "Sahara."  As chill as this song is musically, I think the emotional core of it is a little more turbulent than narrator-Thiessen wants to let on.


Thiessen dwells a bit on his own part in the break-up in the second verse, admitting that while he could "protect [her] universe" he could also "make a mess to make it worse."  But apparently only she can know, so Thiessen lets it go and gets "over it."


There's a line added to the chorus that follows after the verse, with Thiessen pleading not to be told "you['ve]" let go.  Later, "already" is added to this line too.  This line can probably be read as meant for the lady, but it's of note because it has the same inner conflict that its companion line has.  


The bridge is reminiscent of an earlier Relient K song called "Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?" which I've mentioned before.  There's a strong parallel between the lines about the subject making up her mind and having others help her "choose" who don't really understand, and the lines in "Which to Bury" that go "Make your decision and don't think twice/go with your instincts along with some bad advice."  I'll point out again how much differently Thiessen seems to be handling his emotions now as opposed to then.  


I've just noticed a stronger parallel, right about as old as the theme of self-searching.  You see, in the premier Relient K album there's a song called "Marilyn Manson Ate My Girlfriend," in which Thiessen's ex is lured away by an outside voice who Thiessen views as deceptive.  In Anatomy of the Tongue in Cheek there's a song, "What Have You Been Doing Lately," about friends slipping away from the narrow road.  Yet, Thiessen's distress has been tempered by experience, so that by now, in "Over It," he sounds completely level-headed when he says she's losing out on something huge because she listened to someone else.  There's a foreshadowing here towards the penultimate song on the album (counting the last two tracks as one song), "If You Believe Me," as well as a harking back to "Therapy," where God's the only one still listening to Thiessen.  It might have something to do with Thiessen's sardonic streak, which he anguishes over, especially in songs like "Bite My Tongue" from Five Score and Seven Years Ago and a little in "Curl Up and Die" from the Nashville Tennis EP.  


It's this sort of interconnectedness to Thiessen's music that fascinates me, especially since that aspect ramped up so much in Forget and Not Slow Down.  It's ironic to have all these allusions that require the listener to pay attention and remember what's gone before in an album named after trying to forget.


Maybe, just maybe, the sort of forgetting Thiessen's getting at is not the kind you usually think of when you think about forgetting.  Don't tell me you hadn't picked up on that, yet.  "Don't tell me you don't know already."


Wow, I've talked a lot, but there's still more to talk about.  We've got the next section, and the very end.  Just bear with me guys.


Thiessen tells us he keeps his guard up pretty much always, which is why he seems pretty chill about things, but he tries to keep this from sounding like bragging by minimizing it ("just a little bit more") and by pointing out that he's trying "to be egoless while self-assured."  Even so, he's not so sure of himself, but he thinks he's good, or at least he's "over it."


And with all the points he's been making and everything I've been pointing out, I'm pretty sure if you want to say "What, exactly, is he over?" that Thiessen would respond with a resounding, "Yeah."


The song ends with Thiessen echoing his incredulous, "Don't tell me you don't know" until the music fades, and we hear a door open and close as if someone is leaving (or coming in).  I have to admit that until today I thought the entry/exit sound came at the very start of "Sahara" and not at the end of "Over It."  Either way, the sound is a significant transition between the two.  It sounds to me like desolation, which is what Thiessen is trying to hide in today's song and what he admits to in spectacular fashion in the next.  It also reminds me of another significant Relient K song on a different album:  "Deathbed," a song-story about a man dying of lung cancer, which begins with the sound of someone opening a door and sitting down.  That particular sound image is interesting in retrospect because the narrator of "Deathbed" insists he is dying alone, but that sound suggests otherwise.

I hark back now once again to "Therapy," and God as the Listener.

With that thought, get ready for tomorrow.  I'm going to try to have even more interesting things to say about "Sahara" tomorrow than I did the first time, if I can help it.  For now, though, have a blessed day.

Ciao.

Convalescence

I'll just sort of...
put this...

Therapy
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I never thought I'd be
Driving through the country just to drive
With only music and the clothes that I woke up in
I never thought I'd need
All this time alone it goes to show
I had so much, yet I had need for nothing but you
But you

This is just therapy
Let's call it what it is
With a death grip on this life always transitioning
This is just therapy
'Cause you won't take my calls
And that makes God the only one who's left here listening
To me

I'm letting it all sink in
It's good to feel the sting now and again
Hope is one less woeful thing there is to fight through
Getting it I'll begin
Fresh paper and a nice expensive pen
The past cannot subtract a thing from what I might do for you
Unless that's what I let it do

This is just therapy
Let's call it what it is (not what we were)
With a death grip on this life always transitioning
This is just therapy
'Cause you won't take my calls
And that makes God the only one who's left here listening...

Loneliness and solitude are two things not to get confused
because I spend my solitude with You.
I gather all the questions of the things I just can't get straight
And I answer them the way I guess You do.

'Cause this is my therapy
'Cause You're the only one
Who's listening to me

This is my therapy
Let's call it what it is
Not what we were
With a death grip on
This life that's in transition
This is my therapy
'Cause you won't hear me out
And that makes God the only one who's left here listening

This is my therapy
Let's call it what it is (not what we were)
With a death grip on this life always transitioning
This is my therapy
'Cause you won't take my calls
And that makes God the only one who's left here listening
To me


----


If I said that "Part of It" had Thiessen opening up about his feelings, then that goes at least as much as "Therapy."  This song is the most open yet about his emotional state (he needs "therapy") and his walk with the Lord.  Probably my favorite line in this song is the one about loneliness and solitude.


I will be quick to point out the return of the travel motif.  Driving "just to drive," as it were.  I also want to preliminarily mention the irony of the final line in the chorus, "That makes God the only one who's left here listening to me."  Considering he's singing this song to an audience of thousands.  This line, if anything, strengthens my argument that this album is a prayer, albeit one that Thiessen shares with his listeners through an album published by the band he fronts.  And in my mind that makes this album a testimony.  Better, a testimony that avoids heavy-handedness and drips with honesty.


The first verse reveals to us that, at least in the semantic space of this song, Thiessen never expected to be spending his time driving for the sake of it, or to be isolating himself.  It seems to me that the further we get in the album, up to a point, the closer Thiessen's voice (poetically speaking) gets to the event that sparked the work.  My other comment about this verse is the wordplay of ambiguous meaning for the pronoun "you."  He could have needed nothing but her, or he could need nothing but Him, and probably he's referring to both.


The chorus is certainly an interesting beast.  Like most good choruses I encounter, it doesn't stay rigid throughout the song.  For example, the behavior Thiessen refers to in the first verse shifts from "just" therapy to "my" therapy.  He owns it as time moves forward, and he admits he really needs it.  This highlights the reason he's "call[ing] it what it is," because he doesn't necessarily want to need help.  Like he said at the start, he'd rather just "forget and not slow down."  The word "therapy" also implies he feels like it's helping.


There's an echo that happens in the chorus. "Not what we were."  The first instance is another singer entirely, a quiet parenthetical aside (which I have presented as such in the lyrics).  But in a slower version of the chorus, Thiessen himself sings the words.  After that, it's an echo again, but louder, and more sure of itself.  The statement itself is of interest, as it refers to "calling it what it is," the titular therapy of the song.  But in typical Thiessen wordplay fashion, the meaning of calling it what it is doesn't stay exactly the same between lines.  "What we were" was a relationship aimed at marriage—a parallel strongly invoked in the Christian concepts of the Bride and the Bridegroom.  But Thiessen is clearly saying this isn't the way he's communing with his Father in this context.  It's in the context of the Great Physician.


Yet another portion of the chorus is ripe for discussion.  I think Thiessen hits the nail on the head by saying that life is "always transitioning," and I think he's right to take a death grip.  Don't mistake this for meaning Thiessen is holding on too tightly—remember forgetting and not slowing down—but rather that the death grip is just to stay alive in a world that's always changing around you.  I've had a few conversations in the last couple days about how life is always a transition from one state to another.  Right now I'm in a pretty weird place and trying to figure out how to transition to the next state—and out of the house.  If you let go in a time like this, you can lose yourself.  My grip slips sometimes, and I lose a few days or a week to the sort of apathy that reflects idiomatic sofa vegetables.  


There's not too much to say about how Thiessen's female "you" won't take his calls.  It's part of a semantic piece of the puzzle, and obviously part of why he's driving just to drive, with music and God to keep him company.  It comes to the heart of his difficulty:  she has parted from him.


The bridge, which I've already referred to, details more specifically the sort of emotional work Thiessen is doing.  Out on the road alone, he wrestles with his questions and presents them all to God, playing the sort of guesswork game that comes with the faith.  Again, it's really honest.  Thiessen's walk with God isn't a series of questions and answers, or of deals made and bargains kept.  God in "Therapy" is almost the Great Psychiatrist, listening to His son talk about his experiences, and guiding him rather than giving direct instruction.


I've said that Thiessen "seems to think the therapy is working."  I put that in quotes because by that I mean the narrative voice of Thiessen telling us this emotional story thinks, during "Therapy," that it's working.  And he seems to continue to think so, because the next song on the album is called "Over It."  Tomorrow we'll talk about how that title might be a little deceiving, and how the narrator-Thiessen may be deceiving himself at this point in the album.


As a final note, I'd like to point out that even now the music is bright and moves forward at a brisk pace, and so does the inflection in Thiessen's voice.  Yes, he's hurting, but he's still not slowing down.  I point this out because we'll see whether he sticks to this or not as we move into the last half of the album, as indeed we are doing.  "Therapy" and "Over It" form the track-number center of the album, sandwiched between "Part of It" (and "Outro") and "Sahara" on the other side.  There's a radical shift in tone coming up.

Listen to "Therapy."  In fact, I'd suggest you listen to everything up to Therapy around now, if not the whole album.  I don't really want to encourage maintaining suspense moving forward, because the album is really much better as a whole, but if you've never heard the whole thing and you want to hold out, I guess you can do that.

This was one of those days where stuff happened and visitors appeared, thus the later posting than most of these recent blogs have been.  I'll make no apologies.  Another reason for the delay was a need to chew on this song a bit.  I always feel the need to chew on it, maybe more than any of the other songs on the album.

Get some good sleep, peeps.  Ciao.

A Portion of the Whole (And Some Thoughts on Church and My Walk)

I like church.  It's like a battery recharge, or a realignment, or time spent with a good friend.  You feel edified.  It's also exhausting, with all those people there, and me re-examining how I've been living my life since the last time I entered a reverent place of worship.  It sounds an awful lot like I've been doing my Christianity wrong, with that tendency to live a week and then be a Christian on Sundays, but I'm really...

Actually, I'm doing it wrong.  Not terribly wrong.  I'm not putting words in God's mouth and persecuting His children for the sake of my own perverted version of justice.  At least not consciously, or on a daily basis.  If I do do that, I want you to tell me right away.  If I'm a good man I'll shut up and walk away to pick myself apart in privacy.  But yeah, like most people, I'm actually kind of good.  But that makes my flaws all that much more terrible, and when I'm aware of that I pursue my Savior simply because He fixes like no one else.

I've mentioned before that I hate mistakes.  The worst mistakes in my eyes are the ones that can't be fixed—that can't, in some way, be undone.  I'm talking about mistakes you can't apologize for, that leave something broken and you powerless to make it better.

I follow Christ because there is no brokenness He cannot mend.

We've come to a sort of crossroads in our walk through Forget and Not Slow Down.  "Part of It" is central to the album, both because it begins the middle of the emotional narrative and because of how it fills this space.  Like "Candlelight" before it, this song has an afterthought (by the name of "Outro") which echoes the thrust of the song in moving forward through the album.

The most important aspect of this song from an album-wide perspective is that this is where Thiessen's "forget and not slow down" enamel cracks and we get a clearer glimpse of his condition.  Pay close attention to what he says in this song:


Part of It
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I've been working with adhesives:
Chains and locks and ropes with knots to tether,
But nothing's sticking to the pieces—
I can't seem to hold it all together.
But you should know
Because that explains
Why this all just fell apart.

It's not the end of the world
Just you and me
We're a part of it—everyone
We're a part of it—everything
And if a nightmare ever does unfold
Perspective is a lovely hand to hold.

Well I've been trying to ingest this
But everything to me just seems like nonsense,
And I'm not sure if I can get it.
I guess it's time for me to grow a conscience
To combat the lapse
That explains why all of this simply collapsed.

It's not the end of the world
Just you and me
We're a part of it—everyone
We're a part of it—everything
And if a nightmare ever does unfold
Perspective is a lovely hand to hold.

It's been forever since I've gone
But I'm the Cusack on the lawn
Of your heart.
May be forever till I go
But before then you should know
I could tear that place apart
I could tear that place apart

I swear this to you
I wish that this was not the truth
But it's something that you fell into
And crawling out is hard when you
Are not so sure it's what you wanna do—
Not convinced it's what you wanna do.

It's just the weight of the world
Giving out under the string
We're a part of it—everyone
We're a part of it—everything
And when a nightmare finally does unfold—
A nightmare finally shows—
It's not the end of the world
Just a calamity
We're a part of it everyone
We're a part of it everything
And when a nightmare finally does unfold
Perspective is a lovely hand to hold.

Outro
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I swear this to you
I wish that this was not the truth
But it's something that you fell into
And crawling out is hard when you
Are not so sure it's what you wanna do

I swear this to you
(When a nightmare finally does unfold)
I wish that this was not the truth
(Perspective is a lovely hand to hold)
But it's something that you fell into
(Perspective is a lovely hand to hold)
This choice is hard to make when you
Are not convinced it's what you wanna do.

When a nightmare finally does unfold
Perspective is a lovely hand to hold.

----

First of all, Thiessen's word picture in this first verse is awesome.  "Adhesives" obviously not restricted to glue, and all this because he's trying to hold together what he and She both know has already fallen apart.  I'm also a big fan of the guitar work and the reflective tone Thiessen starts with that escalates quickly into the complex emotions presented in the chorus.

"It's not the end of the world, just you and me" puts it pretty darn well.  "It" being Thiessen's continued insistence that life goes on, even as he admits he's a bit worse off than he first let on.  It's not the end of the world, just a nightmare, just the weight of the world giving out, just a calamity.  Not the worst thing, but it's bad.  Yet the chorus ends with the poignant statement "perspective is a lovely hand to hold," which is exactly what Thiessen's trying to achieve so that he can rise above the raw emotional core.  That seems to be the whole purpose of this album aside of a work of art.  He can't forget the hurt, the unseating, until he puts it all in a proper perspective.  And he's loosening a bit at the seams here.

He admits that he's trying to get a handle on things, but it's not settling in his stomach well and he's got some growing to do.  Maybe that statement was a little too esoteric, but it's all there in the second verse, man.

Need more proof about Thiessen loosening at the seams?  Check out the bridge.  He's hanging around, making [some sort of movie reference involving John Cusack that almost entirely escapes me], and he might be around even longer.  More importantly, before he leaves, you should know (and repetition helps you not forget) he "could tear that place apart."  Nah man, he's not upset.

Another note about the bridge?  Here his imagery is of staying in place, thrown into contrast with the themes of travel that have been running through a lot of the songs so far and even ones to come.  I might even draw a parallel between Thiessen's restlessness here and a line at the end of the album (shh, we'll get there when we get there).

Then Thiessen slows down to let "you" (the girl) know the truth, which is something she stumbled on and can't get away from easily.  He doesn't really clarify the truth he's swearing to, so I'm left to assume he's talking about the subject of the chorus, because he's not just telling himself that the end of "you and me" is not the "end of the world."  This is a sort of precursor to the mellowed out final song on the album, as well as Savannah, and just generally setting up a precedent for the slower, most retrospective aspects of music to come.

There's a lot of battle in this song between the chill, fun Relient K and Thiessen flipping out a little, and that, too, is why this song is central to the album.  After "Part of It" and "Outro" Thiessen spends the next two songs coping a little, to the point where he's confident enough to say he's "Over It."  But I'm getting ahead of myself a little.  There's a weird bit in this song I can't quite figure out.  Almost all the lyrics lists, and maybe even the official lyrics, seem to agree that the line is "giving (or given) out under the string," but I don't feel like the weight of the world would give out under a string.  I've always sort of felt like that line should end in strain, but listening closely it's pretty obvious he's singing string.  So I have no idea what that means, and it's weird.  There ya go, not every little Relient K lyric is chock full of great hidden meaning.  Or maybe it is, and I just can't get it.

Tomorrow we'll talk about "Therapy."  I was going to say it's one of my favorite songs on the album, but you may have noticed I kinda love them all.  See you then!

Torchglow

At the end of my post yesterday I said "Candlelight" is the happiest song on the album.  That's because it's a much less angsty version of Mmhmm's song "The One I'm Waiting For."  Or there's parallels, at least.  Musically, "Candlelight" incorporates aspects of Swing (heavy syncopation) and maybe some steel drum.  It sounds like steel drum?  Anyway, that gives it a sort of summer vacation on the beach in California feel in some places.  There also seems to be heavier use of acoustic guitars, with electric guitars using much less distortion.  All of these pep up the feel of the song.  Then there's the lyrics, which I'll discuss after you've had a chance to peruse them yourself.

I should also point out that we've come upon the first instance of an interesting method Relient K employed on this album.  Several songs on the album have a tailing track that serves as an afterthought or a brief musical reprise.  I've included the lyrics of "Flare" below.  For the most part, I consider these tracks as part of the totality of the song that precedes them, and for that reason I'll be putting them up with their respective songs as I have today.


Candlelight
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen and Matthew Hoopes)

To know her is to love her
I'm goin' undercover
To catch a glimpse but not get caught.
But to see her could be worse
If I don't get my head straight first—
On second though I guess I'll not.

She's almost brighter than the sun
Seems to me to be unfair
When you consider everyone
Who pales when they compare
When they compare

Can't hold a candle to her
'Cause all the moths get in the way
And they'll begin to chew her
Entire attire until it frays
For she outshines anyone who ever might
Dare to bask in the same candlelight

Oh please don't seat us in the back
With all the insects and the trash
She is a lady I'm a tramp
Collecting stares from pairs close by
Then flutters in the butterfly
You're just the moth drawn to the lamp

She's like an ancient artifact
Something you're lucky to have found
She'll pinch the nerves in all the necks
As she turns those heads around
Those heads around


Can't hold a candle to her
'Cause all the moths get in the way
And they'll begin to chew her
Entire attire until it frays
For she outshines anyone who ever might
Dare to bask in the same candlelight
Who may dare to bask in the same candlelight

She's almost brighter than the sun
Seems to me to be unfair
When you consider everyone
Who pales when they compare
When they compare


Can't hold a candle to her
'Cause all the moths get in the way
And they'll begin to chew her
Entire attire until it frays
For she outshines anyone who ever might
Dare to bask in the same candlelight
In the same candlelight

Flare
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)


A solar flare
Shines through her hair
It's so unfair
When you compare
The one who's fairest of the fair
x2

----

This song is pretty clearly talking about the positive qualities of the woman behind the album.  With this as subject matter it's interesting that this should be the happiest song on the album.  If Thiessen was your typical rock-oriented heartbroken songwriter, or even approaching this relationship and its end with the level of maturity he demonstrated previously in his music (songs like "From End to End," "Overthinking," and "Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?" come to mind), we wouldn't be getting a song about a beautiful woman.  But we are, and the fact that we are is foreshadowed by the previous song, about how she "and life remain beautiful."

I don't have a lot to say about the writing here.  It all adds up to a positive picture of the woman as superlative, to the point that it's unfair to compare other people to her.  Most of the wordplay comes in metaphors, and playing with the concept of "candlelight" with moths, their relatives butterflies, and then in the afterthought track the hugeification of something as small as candlelight into a solar flare.

I take note that by the end of this, we're four tracks in out of fifteen, ten minutes out of a forty-two minute album, and we haven't encountered any real harsh sentiments from our frontman.  He may not be forgetting, but he's also not slowing down.

As usual, I suggest you go take a listen to this song.  It's a pretty good example of the evolution of Relient K's sound, infusing a few more esoteric elements into the core of their musical presentation.  I know this blog post is pretty short compared to the previous two, but again I don't have much to say about "Candlelight."

I probably will have a lot to say about the next song, though.  See ya then!