Monday, February 1, 2010

3. Words of Wisdom - (Jump, Little Children)



"If I cannot follow where you go / I promise to teach what I have learned."Oh man, Jump Little Children were so freakin' great. This song is particularly heartwrenching, and it totally nails that often elusive songwriting balance between wonderfully vague and unflinchingly direct.

Here's the backstory:

The lead singer's father has just died. In mourning, the singer (we'll call him Matt, because -- well -- that's his name) writes a song -- a "bittersweet melody." He "long[s] for that embrace, the strongest arms / that troubled face" that made [him] feel safe." And he begs the recently departed to "leave [him] some words of wisdom" as he tries to make sense of this new life alone.

Clearly, he's not taking this too well.

So basically, this entire piece is really just one big old eulogy for dear old dad, right?
Hamlet: You rang?!?

Maybe, maybe not.

See, like the best works of literature, a really well-written pop song actually lends itself to a wide array of thematic interpretations. Hamlet isn't *just* about doing right by your dead father. It's about finding one's place in the world. It's about searching within one's self for the answer to that all-important question posed in the very first lines of the play ("Who's there?"). And it's about taking the necessary time to discover what it means "To be, or not to be."

Now sure, as is the case with great literary analysis, there's an "acceptable range" of what all a song *can* and *cannot* mean (example: when our buddy Matt sings "
if I cannot follow where you go, I promise to teach what I have learned" -- he's probably not talking about eeking out life-lessons while tailing some dude on his way to a one-stall men's room. Well okay, maybe). But by and large? The songwriter has pretty much laid bare some universal themes here, and now it's up to us, the audience, to make sense of things.

So let's do exactly that. And since we're obviously dealing with some heavy subject matter, let's do it by looking at this song as it relates to the similarly universal themes on human suffering and sadness, as once so famously put forth in the ever-handy "Kübler-Ross model" (a.k.a. -- the five stages of grief).

Take it away, Wikipedia-level understanding of advanced psychological theories!

Anger: ("Fortune smiles with teeth of jade, and the greediest eyes")Translation: "Greed. Argh! Boy, I'm pissed that you've been stolen away from me."
Denial: ("How do years so far away so suddenly evaporate?")Translation: "Man, I can't believe this is actually happening."
Bargaining: ("If you will go and not return / leave me some words of wisdom.")Translation: "Go if you must, but please -- one last thing before you do..."
Depression: ("Who was it that said to me / that heroes would live forever?")Translation: "I'm a sad panda."
Acceptance: (If I cannot follow where you go, I promise to teach what I have learned.")Translation: "Well, ok then. This sucks and it'll take time, but I'll try."
Hey cool.

The figurative language opens the song up so well that the songwriter's once intensely personal eulogy for his late father actually becomes a broader commentary on the universal themes of life, love, and loss. Suddenly (just like
Hamlet), we're not just talking about the simple case of some dude who's trying to make peace with his dead father anymore.

You want to follow, but you know you can't.

You've given your all, but still you're left standing all alone.

And even though you might well have accepted that things simply had to change, you're certainly not over it -- no sir, not by a longshot.

(Damned ear poison)

Wow. This just got deep in a hurry. Infinitely more universal, too. Heck, when you look at it *that* way -- one might even call this a tailor-made breakup song. And for a track that doesn't once mention the word "love" -- that's quite a feat. Crazy, right?

Yay figurative language!

(... now get thee to a nunnery...)

2. The Scientist - (Coldplay)




"I was just guessin' at numbers and figures / pulling the puzzles apart."
Poor, poor Chris Martin.

Sure, the guy might have ended up with Gwyneth Paltrow, but deep down? He's a total science dork. I mean seriously -- just look at how often the guy finds himself singing about outer space, "questions of science," and other similarly themed poindextery stuff:

"Look at earth from outer space" (Politic)"You and me are drifting into outer space" (X&Y)"All of the stars and the outer space" (White Shadows)
(In retrospect, this could explain the whole "virgin until his mid twenties" thing).

But getting to the song at hand --

We've got ourselves a scientist. And not just *any* scientist, mind you -- but "THE" Scientist. As in a guy who pretty much defines his entire self through his life's work. He's brilliant, probing (heh heh heh), coldly analytical -- and dangerously good at his job accordingly. After all -- a mind for "pulling the puzzles apart" is a must-have when dealing with "questions of science." Wouldn't you agree?
Dr. Gregory House: Word, dawg.

Ok -- so we've got ourselves this scientist, yes? And when it comes to solving analytical puzzles? Dude's a friggin' genius. But when dealing with matters of the heart?

Not so much.

Hmm -- a science dork who just can't seem to make sense of human relationships? Kinda' reminds me of another tortured genius with a Ph.D. from roughly 400 years earlier.
The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus (1604)
By Christopher Marlowe

When it came to Elizabethan playwrites, there's no question that Billy Shakespeare was the man to beat. But if Shakespeare was the shit, then Marlowe was -- at the very least -- the urine (how's that for a colorful metaphor? Thanks, Kanye). And Marlowe's wildly controversial
Faustus was pretty much the closest thing to Better-Than-The-Bard to have emerged from the whole of the 17th century.

The story is simple:

Dr. Faustus is a genius, but he's not satisfied with simply being the smartest guy in the room. Instead, he wants to be the smartest man IN THE WORLD, and so he makes a deal with the devil to trade his soul for exactly that. Mephistophilis (being the devil and all) is more than happy to agree -- and so he makes Faustus an uber-genius, but promises to steal him back to hell as per their agreement some 24 years later.

Flash forward 24 years...

Just as Mr. Fausty Pants is hitting his stride as "the smartest man in all the world," he comes across a total knockout of a ladyfriend (in the form of one Miss Helen -- of Troy fame). And whaddayaknow -- our forsaken superdork falls madly in love.

(Wanna' guess how well *that* turns out?)

How about we leave the summary to the immortal words of the good doctor himself:

"Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.
Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God,
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells
In being deprived of everlasting bliss?"
Ooooh, BURRRRN!!! (literally)

Or as our good friend Chris Martin might say --
"Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me..."

Just when you think you've got all the important stuff figured out, love comes in and changes the questions. Boy it sucks to be you, Faustus (and that goes double for The Scientist). But unlike Marlowe's hell-bound physician, Coldplay's lovesick scientist actually has a brief chance at redemption. As he sings:


"Nobody said it was easy
[but] no one ever said it would be this hard
I'm going back to the start."
In other words: when your world falls down, take a good, hard look in the mirror and get right with yourself.

Aww, that's nice.

Too bad it's blatantly cribbed from Yeats:

"Now that my ladder's gone,
I must lie down where all the ladders start
In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart."

- William Butler Yeats, "The Circus Animals Desertion" (1939)
(Why they even borrowed the whole "heart" / "start" rhyme. How clever).

Wait -- COLDPLAY?!? STEALING MATERIAL FROM OTHER ARTISTS, you say!?!

Hey, songwriting's a tough bizniss. Or, in Chris Martin's own words:
"Nobody said it was easy."