Bouncing back
I will hardly reveal myself as the music blogosphere”s slightly less ugly version of Dr Phil when I observe that people recover from the end of serious relationships in very different ways. In this series of songs about love we have looked at various themes, including splitting up. Here we look at how protagonists in ten songs have bounced back, or not, from the death of a liaison.
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Skeeter Davis ““ Gonna Get Along Without You Now (1964).mp3
Well, it”s easier to bounce back when our ex was a bit of a bounder. Look at the ex of Skeeter (or Teresa Brewer or Viola Wills or lately She & Him): one minute he proposes marriage, the next he”s running around “with every girl in town”, masking his two-timing ways by telling everybody that he and Skeeter are just friends. Who needs that? Not Skeeter (or Teresa or Viola or She). “I got along without you before I met you, gonna get along without you now.” And the philosophical lack of concern is followed by the triumphant zinger: “Thought I”d find somebody who is twice as cute , “cause I didn’t like you anyhow.” Bouncebackability score: 10/10
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Ben Folds ““ Landed (Strings version) (2005).mp3
Ben got out of the clutches of a controlling woman (as he tells it anyway). He and the ex moved to the West Coast, and separated from their old social circle. She seems have bullied Ben: “She liked to push me and talk me back down till I believed I was the crazy one. And in a way I guess I was.” She controlled access to him, so when people phoned, she”d not convey the message. Now he has walked out “” “down comes the reign of the telephone tsar” “” and it”s okay to call him. He”s ready to resume his old life, if that is possible: “And if you wrote me off, I”d understand it. “Cause I’ve been on some other planet. So come pick me up, I”ve landed” “” from that “other planet” and from the West Coast. Bouncebackability score: 9/10
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Kris Kristofferson ““ From The Bottle To The Bottom (1969).mp3
Sometimes there is no bounce-back. Whatever solace there can be derived emanates from those friends in low places: Johnny Walker, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels. So it is here. Being asked whether he is happy apparently is bitter a joke. Or at least, “happy” is a concept that needs to be clearly defined before the question is posed. “It seems that since I”ve seen you last I done forgot the meaning of the word. If happiness is empty rooms and drinkin” in the afternoon, well, I suppose I”m happy as a clam. But if it”s got a thing to do with smilin” or forgettin” you, well, I don”t guess that I could say I am.” Happy, that is. Freedom, eh? Living the dream? Not so much: “There”s no one here to carry on if I stay out the whole night long, or give a tinker”s damn if I don”t call. I”m livin” like I wanted to, and doin” things I wanna do, and nothin” means a thing to me at all.” So we might think that Kris is not doing well. In fact, he”s doing worse.
How”s this for being down: “Did you ever see a down and outer waking up alone without a blanket on to keep him from the dew, when the water from the weeds has soaked the paper he”s been puttin” in his shoes to keep the ground from comin’ through, and his future feels as empty as the pocket in his pants because he”s never seen a single dream come true? That”s the way that I”ve been feelin” since the day I started falling from the bottle to the bottom, stool by stool.” He”s lost that bouncing feeling… Bouncebackability score: 1/10
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Rilo Kiley ““ The Execution Of All Things (2002).mp3
There”s no post break-up messing around here: the now defunct relationship must be snuffed out. The split was humiliating to her, as we learn in the first verse, and her business now is to get over that. “Oh god, come quickly, the execution of all things. Let”s start with the bears and the air and mountains, rivers, and streams. Then we”ll murder what matters to you and move on to your neighbours and kids. Crush all hopes of happiness with disease “cause of what you did.” So pretty much a scorched earth policy. And that comes laced with a bit of vengeful anticipation: “And lastly, you”re all alone with nothing left but sleep. But sleep never comes to you; it”s just the guilt and forever wakefulness of the weak.” Bouncebackability score: 7/10
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Damien Rice ““ The Blower”s Daughter (2002).mp3
Here”s a guy not about to bounce back from what might be a broken relationship, unrequited love, unstated love, impossible love. Pretty much a love that has fucked over somebody to whom things tend to come fairly easy. He”s still obsessed: “I can”t take my eyes off of you”. Lisa Hannigan, giving voice the titular blower”s daughter, tries to calm him, pointing out that she didn”t say she loathes him, as he apparently thinks she does. Upshot is that much as he feels like hating her, he doesn”t. So he won”t keep his mind off her, “till I find somebody new”. So there”s hope for the bounce-back yet from whatever love our friend is suffering. Bouncebackability score: 3/10
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Marit Larsen ““ Only A Fool (2006).mp3
Marit”s boyfriend (or perhaps husband; a ring changed hands and unspecified vows were made) betrayed her, and now she has dumped the chump. Our Norwegian songbird has “been changing after what you put me through; there is just no way that I”ll be coming home to you”. She thinks she”d be a bit of an idiot to do so, as she notes with admirable forthrightness in the chorus: “Only a fool would do this again. Only a fool would let you back in. There is no you left to embrace, there is no word would make it feel safe.” Her naive trust was broken, and that must have hurt. But she”s in a better place than her apparently pleading ex: “It feels good here, better than you know. Isn”t it only fair that you try and let it go?”
Bouncebackability score: 10/10
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Mazzy Starr ““ Halah (1990).mp3
Sometimes you need closure before bouncing back. Hope Sandoval, Mazzy Starr”s singer, is still looking for that. Instead, there is a lot of confusion. “It”s like I told you, I”m over you somehow.” Well, that is good. But what”s this? “Before I close the door I need to hear you say goodbye.” Ah, not so much over it then. “Baby won”t you change your mind?” And that awful obstacle to closure and bounce-back: hope. The ex owes Sandoval an explanation which she won”t receive. So there won”t be closure any time soon. Bouncebackability score: 2/10
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Ricky Peterson ““ Livin” It Up (1990).mp3
The song has featured in the songs about love series before, in Bill LaBounty”s original version (though that link is dead. The song is on this mix). Here jazz singer Ricky Peterson is giving vocals to the anthem for the false bounce-back. Our friend admits that he had gone through a tough time since the break-up. He even put a service on the phone. And whatever that is, it sounds like the action of a man in a deep funk. But he”s out of that, he informs us (and, more to the point, her). He scraped his heart up off the floor! Oh, and he”s having a majestic time now. Living it up, he is, “right from the women to the wine. Livin” out all those fantasies I never did get to, crazy things I never got to do”. Now that”s bouncing back like kangaroo on methamphetamine. But all”s not as it seems. “Every now and then I must confess, I’m not up to all this happiness. Sometimes I wonder if the place I”m at is where I do belong.” So what”s missing from making this great life complete? Well, all this livin” it up from women to wine involving crazy fantasies…” it don”t seem like living without you”. Bouncebackability score: 6/10
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Tom Waits ““ Innocent When You Dream (78) (1987).mp3
Oh curse you, wicked self-recrimination. Tom and his girl had something beautiful: “I made a golden promise that we would never part. I gave my love a locket.” Tell me more, tell me more, did you get very far? Evidently not. “And then I broke her heart.” So instead of running through a pollen paradise straight out of a shampoo commercial, Tom now observes that “the bats are in the belfry, the dew is on the moor”. But when he sleeps, he resuscitates the happy memories. “The fields are soft and green”, but “it”s memories that I”m stealing”. The song title will have alerted the reader of Waits” punchline: “But you”re innocent when you dream.” Tom isn”t about to forgive himself for what he has done, is he? Bouncebackability score: 2/10
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Rainbow ““ Since You”ve Been Gone (1979).mp3
Head East – Since You’ve Been Gone (1978).mp3
Written by Russ Ballard, we have two proxies expressing his thoughts (Cherie & Marie Currie”s version must wait for a couple of months to feature in a different context). Our jilted lover can take a lot of punishment, including poison letters and telegrams that just go to show she doesn’t give a damn. And the cause for that readiness to be reconciled? Well, see, “these four walls are closing in” and recurring dreams cause our anti-hero to fall out of his bed at night, possibly as a result of reading her letter at night “beneath the back street light” (is he stalking her?). His mental well-being is on the edge. “Since you been gone, I”m outta my head, can”t take it.” Witchcraft may be involved: “Could I be wrong, but since you been gone, you cast the spell “” so break it.” Oooohwaowaow ohwaowoawoh indeed. Bouncebackability score: 1/10
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What is it about Rilo Kiley that puts the critics in such ambivalent mood? More Adventurous lives up to its title: it”s an eclectic album, even if there is not much that”s particularly experimental. The variety seems to have puzzled the critics; I like it. There”s the alt.country, folk-rock stuff with which the group has been mostly associated (such as on the lovely title track and The Absence Of God), power indie-pop (the fantastic Portions For Foxes and It”s A Hit), a 1920s throwback (Ripchord), a torchsong country number (I Never), and what might be described as electronica country (the dyslexic Accidntel Deth). Apart from Portions For Foxes, the dramatic Does He Love You (discussed 
When I first got SMiLE , I did not get it. In fact, I was so disappointed by Brian Wilson”s long-awaited and much-hyped collaboration with Van Dyke Parkes that I didn”t expect to ever play it again, just to file it away in a spot where the handsome packaging, with the rather good booklet, would look nice. Then circumstances conspired, making me play the thing four times over on loop. The penny dropped and I got it. There are moments I can live without, yet these moments are a part of the trip: a post-psychedelic trip, a melancholy yet buoyant trip, a trip to a place that doesn”t exist anymore, and probably never did. It”s an album as removed from reality as Brian Wilson is said to be today. The timing of its release, in the middle of the corporate, synthetic “00s was fortuitous. Coinciding with an era when commercial realism tends to trump enterprising creativity, SMiLE appeared as a connection to a time when innovation was not scorned but rewarded “” ironically by putting together the one “60s masterpiece that never was.
Mindy Smith”s name evokes the image of plastic blondes in skimpy beachwear living it up at the Playboy Mansion, not the reality of a writer and singer of beautiful country-folk music. Smith was in her early 30s before she finally released this, her debut album. Occasional visitor to this parish Stay-At-Home Indie-Pop (whose periodically updated 
Time was when Sweden burdened us with the regrettable likes of Roxette and Ace Of Base who were hauling in the glorious slipstream of ABBA. This decade, Sweden is a hotbed of wonderful Indie-pop created by artists who can create a catchy hook and an incisive lyric, even a cappela style. The Cardigans set the scene, but the godfather may well be Jens Lekman. Indeed, he gets namechecked, alongside Townes van Zandt, in what may be the best Swedish song of the genre, Hello Saferide”s The Quiz. Lekman turns out some rather good melodies, but the charm of his songs exist in the idiosyncratic lyrics. Take the upbeat You Are The Light: the protagonist gets arrested for defacing his girlfriend”s father”s Mercedes Benz at her prompting, and uses his one phone call to ask the local radio station to dedicate a song to her. There are startling surprises in many of his wry lyrics, but they aren”t contrived, and at times they are casually profound. That is an art in an age when so many people discern depth in Coldplay”s lyrics. And unlike Coldplay and their fellow worthies, Lekman is frequently very funny indeed.
Deb Talan and Steve Tannen were solo performers on the folk circuit when they met. They decided to collaborate, chose a stupid name for their duo, fell in love, married, moved to Topanga, California, and had a child, and in the interim have released three albums. It”s a happy story, with the title of their debut album an opportune portent. The harmonies are, as one would expect, lovely (especially on closing track Keep It There); none of the songs are likely to jolt the listener out of their comfort zone. But it”s not all predictable introspective coffeehouse folk stuff, and when it is (such as on the lovely Somebody Loved or Simple Life), it”s of superior quality. On other tracks, there are jangly guitars on the suitably upbeat title track, snowbells on the Christmas-flavoured All That I Want, bluegrass guitar on Vegas Baby. Perhaps the most affecting song is Tannen”s Dating A Porn Star, as good a country a song as one might find in this decade.
Dave Alvin is a flexible musician, at home in country, folk, blues, rock and punk. He has been a member of rockabilly band The Blasters (with his brother Phil) and the influential punk band The Flesheaters, and he wrote Dwight Yoakam”s country classic Long White Cadillac. Ashgrove is a departure from his previous albums, which covered either country and folk or bluesy roots rock (a genre title I despise). Personally, I prefer the country stuff. I”m not a great roots rock fan, but I do like it when Alvin does it “” his guitar work is terrific. As always with Dave Alvin, the lyrics are worth following; some of them are compelling. Two stand out: Out Of Control tells a hell of a story, and The Man In The Bed Isn”t Me is truly touching. The sequencing is a bit jarring, though, with the bluesy rock alternating with the country songs, preventing the set from settling into a coherent mood.
Every male singer-songwriter who enjoys any amount of critical esteem is likely to be compared to the tragic Elliot Smith, the genre”s eternal poet laureate (whose posthumously assembled collection of demos was released in 2004). Flattering though such comparisons are, often they are inappropriate and lazy. Ron Sexsmith”s sound has little in common with Smith”s, and his lyrics are more hopeful. Sexsmith also gets compared to Paul McCartney (and Happiness from Retriever sounds much like a Macca song), who has championed him. I suppose that the comparisons to Smith do not relate to sound or mood, but to songwriting chops. Retriever, like almost all of Sexsmith”s works, is a beautifully written. It”s a warm, gorgeous album, it embraces the listener in a comforting auditory blanket, aided by Sexsmith”s engaging voice and thoughtful lyrics. It”s not the kind of album, and Sexsmith not the kind of artist, that one turns to for a fix of challenging music; there is enough depth here to remove it from vacant pop, but it will not test the listener. It”s more of an old friend, instantly familiar and great company one is happy to seek out again.
This is one of those unexpected albums: loungey covers of Punk and New Wave classics, such as Love Will Tear Us Apart (here set on a beach), Teenage Kicks, Making Plans For Nigel, Too Drunk To Fuck, and Guns Of Brixton (the latter two of which sound like Gainsbourg songs here). It”s all very sincere and quite fabulous, rendered mostly in a bossa new wave nova groove. Nouvelle Vague, a project by Frenchmen Marc Collin and Olivier Libaux using a roster of female vocalists, does not aim for camp comedy or winks and nods. The exercise requires that the listener simultaneously forgets the originals, the better to understand them on Nouvelle Vague”s terms, and to remember them, so as to appreciate their imaginative reinventions. Some don”t quite work (such as The Undertone”s Teenage Kicks), others compare very well to the original, especially The Cure”s A Forest, The Specials” Friday Night Saturday Morning And PiL”s This Is Not A Love Song.
I can”t profess to be a great fan of the Australian accent, mate. And yet, it is always satisfying when non-American singers resist the temptation of adapting their accent for the international market. Melissa Higgins retains her strong Aussie enunciation, which can be grating but also helps to invest in her lyrics unblemished authenticity. Much of the lyrics are, or seem, intensely personal. Some of them are standard singer-songwriter fare, but there is much here that moves the listener, particularly the title track, about her sister”s death in an accident (featured 
Thank goodness for the technology of digital playlists. With this album, I”ll never need to hear the pointless noisy distortions on the 12-minute long Less Than You Think again, even as I applaud Tweedy and pals for their willingness to do something different (though that something almost rivals Lou Reed”s Metal Machine Music album for unlistenability). And, depending on my mood, I may skip the 10min-plus Spiders Kidsmoke as well, because the guitar solo really annoys me, by which I am doing the song an injustice. But the rest of the album is very enjoyable. It includes some of Tweedy”s best songs, such as The Late Greats and Hell Is Chrome. But the absolute highlight is “” and Wilco fans will have guessed it “” the opener, At Least That’s What You Said, which plods along with Tweedy in pensive mood until it explodes in gloriously angry guitars.
The are at least two types of Ben Folds fans: those who don”t think that Folds has ever topped the work he did in union with with Robert Sledge and Darren Jessee as the ironically named Ben Folds Five, and those who prefer his more mature solo output. Put me down as belonging in the latter group. While the very funny title track, the driving Zak And Sara, Annie Waits or Not The Same would fit snugly in the Ben Folds Five canon, Folds” solo debut exhibited a greater empathy for the subjects of his lyrics. On Rockin” The Suburbs (released on September 11), Folds took the baton from BFF songs such as Brick, Don’t Change Your Plans or Best Imitation Of Myself, musically and lyrically.
The first time I saw the Hedwig and the Angry Inch, I was gobsmacked. The curious storyline, the intense performances, the incongruous humour (black GIs in East Berlin!), the imaginative setpieces, the animation and costumes, and, above all, the fantastic music, written by Stephen Trask and performed mostly by John Cameron Mitchell as the genitally mutilated Hedwig, which ranges from ballads and punk to Ziggy-style glam rock.
Before the Idols franchise spewed forth disposable singers of debatable ability, at least in South Africa, televised talent shows in the country brought several artists of notable aptitude to the public”s attention. One of these was Judith Sephuma, born in the northern town of Polokwane (then Pietersburg) and a music graduate from the University of Cape Town. Her 2001 debut album is a captivating blend of jazz and Afro-pop which fully met, and even exceeded, the expectations observers had invested in the artist since her performance at the inauguration of President Thabo Mbeki in 1999, a year before she made a huge impression at the misnamed North Sea Jazz Festival in Cape Town (the local equivalent of the Montreaux festival). If the wonderful Randy Crawford had been South African, this is what she might have sounded like.
Much as I love Sandoval”s group Mazzy Starr, I struggled long and hard to “get” this album. It”s the sort of ambient set one needs to be in a perfect mood for (perhaps when one is recovering from a bout of inebriation). But when everything is set, it hits home in its quiet way. If Sandoval sounds fragile on Mazzy Starr, here you want to pack her in cotton wool and keep the volume low, just in case she breaks. The result is exponentially mesmerising and ultimately gorgeous. It”s not the sort of album from which one can pick a representative track (though I”ll try here); it works best as a body of music. If one is in the mood.
Last month Hawley released a masterpiece, Truelove Gutter. Without wishing to resort to hyperbole, I”ll claim with confidence that it is not only the best album of the year, but one of the best of the decade. Hawley, a former member of Britpop groups Longpigs and Pulp, has produced a series of delightful and always affecting albums that started with his full debut, Late Night Final (it was preceded by a self-titled EP in 2000). The gorgeously melancholy, late night mood of that great triptych of Hawley albums “” Coles Corner, Lady”s Bridge, Truelove Gutter “” is already evident here. His voice has now dropped a register and the arrangements have become more intricate since Late Night Final (on which Hawley”s country influence is still evident), but the basics of the Hawley sound, and the quality, are already there. The stand-out track is Baby, You”re My Light, which I featured on 
Death Cab For Cutie is one the most stupid band names in modern music. It evokes the image of shouting and wailing nu-metal emo types, or perhaps a death metal outfit that failed in conjuring a suitably satanic-sounding moniker. Death Cab are nothing of the sort, of course, nor do they deserve to be dismissed for featuring so prominently on the teen drama-soap The O.C. (which was actually quite good for a couple of seasons and featured some excellent music that otherwise would not have received wider exposure). The Photo Album is Death Cab”s transition album, still drawing from the Indie rock of the earlier albums but preparing for the almost symphonic feel of 2003″s Transatlanticism and last year”s Narrow Stairs. It lacks the diversity of 2005″s Plans, but like Plans and more than Transatlanticism, it does have tracks that stand on their own. This is solidly guitar-driven, ambient Indie rock, but more accomplished (or, purists might say, polished) than the four preceding Death Cab albums.
In 2004, Rilo Kiley released a brilliant album in More Adventurous. The preceding two albums are more patchy. Take-Offs & Landings borrows its influences widely, blows some alt.country over it, and voila. Sometimes it works, and there is nothing here that is really objectionable, but this is very much the work of a group still finding its way. Likewise, the wonderful Jenny Lewis is still discovering her voice, which here is still banking on its cuteness before it became the sexiest voice since Julie London”s. If all this sounds half-hearted, then that is not quite fair on an enjoyable album. It suffers not on its own merits, but in comparison to what the group and Lewis as a solo artist produced later.
At a time when soul music is dying a gangrened death at the hands of dancing corporate muppets and sexless nasal whiners, we ought to be grateful for the few artists who still refer to the rich heritage of the genre. So I find it difficult to sympathise with those who dismiss the artistry of Alicia Keys. OK, she”s not quite all that which the hype claims her to be, as a pianist or as a singer. Much of her material is bland. It”s safe to say that she cannot compare with, say, Roberta Flack. Judging only from her appearances at the Grammys (which I still watch for reasons I cannot comprehend; probably only for the In Memoriam section), I find her a bit smug, a bit corporate, a bit too convinced of her own genius. And yet, her albums includes a clutch of tracks which, had they been recorded 35 years earlier, would be noted as fine contributions to the canon of soul music, celebrating the derivations of her material as reflecting an astute choice of influences. Despite all the caveats I have raised, I”m glad that Alicia Keys is around.
Playing the song New Slang from this album, Natalie Portman”s character in the fine film Garden State promises Zach Braff”s protagonist that it will change his life. Without wishing to spring spoilers upon the reader who unaccountably have not seen the film, it indeed does so. The Portland, Oregon-based band”s debut thus broke out from the ghetto of Indie cult on the back of Braff”s championing. If the Kinks had been Americans recording their music in the “00s, this is what they might have sounded like. I have quite enjoyed The Shins” subsequent albums, which are musically accomplished, perhaps more than Oh, Inverted World. But if I want a fix of The Shins, it”s the debut I turn to.
What is it with all those people who are so quick to dismiss every Weezer album because it isn”t Pinkerton? It seems to be accepted wisdom that Pinkerton, one of the great albums of the 1990s, set some kind of standard that Rivers Cuomo and the other three chaps must live up to. The trouble is, by the time the Pinkerton evangelists listened to the other Weezer albums, they were no longer of an age when they locked themselves in their bedrooms because school and parents and jocks sucked and listened to Pinkerton in the recovery period between wanks. The Green Album is a fine album; it has some great tunes, it”s fun, it doesn”t challenge you; it does everything you”d want from a Weezer album. Island In The Sun is my cellphone ringtone, by the way.
I am recycling this incredibly moving song from last year. It seems to have been very popular indeed, even though it was a mere album track from an album that was not a big hit even in Karma-Ann Swanepoel”s home country, South Africa. Karma has found someone with whom to connect on an intimate level. As the alert reader might have predicted, there is something that makes this love impossible. They have been talking a lot, always skirting around their true feelings: “So we”ll talk every now and then about our day-to-day, never saying the things we both planned to say.”
The song reflects the experiences of two female friends who are presently conversing. One has an affair with a married man who promises to leave his wife and join her in California. The other is in a difficult marriage ““ it seems she married her husband only because she felt her “time was running out”. But now that she is pregnant, she seems to love him (or so she says). “But now you love him and your baby; at last you are complete. But he”s distant and you found him on the phone, pleading, saying: “˜Baby, I love you, and I”ll leave her and I”m coming out to California”. Ooops! Obviously the husband is in love with the first woman, who loves him too. And the geometry of the relationships will be further complicated when the love triangle turns into a square soon. Woman #1 realises what will happen: “And your husband will never leave you. He will never leave you for me.” An impossible love for at least two people here, beautifully dramatised by the gorgeous Jenny Lewis.
The obstacle of the age gap was explored by Gary Puckett in his anthem to narrowly but judiciously avoided statutory rape. We don”t know how old Gary was vis-a-vis the young girl, but in Roberta Flack”s lovely song from her 1969 debut album, First Take, the relationship is between two consenting adults. The age difference here seems to be too vast to reconcile. I have difficulty buying into that: she is 21, he is 34. That”s just 13 years (and the 21-year-old girl is probably more mature than the guy). But, as Roberta tells it, “now I find according to society that our ages, they must keep us apart.” She rightly believes that the age difference is immaterial when the two of them are so much in love, “a love too strong for gossip to kill”. But gossip seems to be winning; her man unreasonably a hostage to parochial prejudices. So Roberta has to put an ultimatum to him: “What will it be ““ our ages or our hearts?”
The 1978 original of Whitney Houston”s 1985 hit by the one-time singer of the 5th Dimension. It is, of course, another adultery song (which I think is used better here than in the cheating songs instalment). Naturally, the arrangement of clandestinely banging a married man is not ideal, but she really seems to love him, and, one suspects, he really loves her too, believing that this in itself would justify ending his marriage. “You used to tell me we”d run away together. Love gives you the right to be free.” But she knows that he doesn”t really believe this to be true, that he cannot sacrifice his marital obligation on the altar of love. “You said be patient, just wait a little longer ““ but that”s just an old fantasy.” So, is he a cheating cad who is just using Marilyn? Or is he in a desperate situation in which at least two ““ and if his wife finds out possibly three ““ hearts are broken?
Ouch, she fell hard ““ “You make me feel like a lilting girl. What do you do to me?” ““ but is trapped in another relationship. “Now what am I supposed to do when I want you in my world? How can I want you for myself when I”m already someone”s girl?” For Erykah, extra-curricular activity, which her object of desire seems to be proposing, is not an option: “I know I”m a lot of woman, but not enough to divide the pie.” So it won”t happen; they cannot be together, ever. Forever ever? Well, the idea of brutal finality might be just a little too much for Erykah to bear, so she makes a deal: they”ll be together in the next lifetime. “I guess I”ll see you next lifetime. I”m going to look for you.” Which must bring modest comfort to the atheist lover.
Here we have two people who are in love, but geographical distance is coming between them. “I find the map and draw a straight line over rivers, farms, and state lines; the distance from A to where you”d be”¦” He and she, for it is a duet with Loudon”s daughter (ergo Rufus” sister), are feeling depressed about it all. “I”m miles from where you are, I lay down on the cold ground. I pray that something picks me up, and sets me down in your warm arms.” Unlike many others in the impossible love predicament, our two friends may well activate their love fully when they do get together. And in their imagination, they already are: “After I have travelled so far, we”d set the fire to the third bar. We”d share each other like an island until exhausted close our eyelids.” Can the promise of sweaty sex compensate for the agony of separation?
As the title suggests, Morrissey and his pal”s girlfriend are in a car, but instead of dreaming about double-decker busses, Morrissey is engaged in a conversation punctuated by directions. It turns out that she is not really happy with Morrissey”s pal. “So how did I end up so deeply involved in the very existence I planned on avoiding?” Morrissey has no answer, for he can”t run his mate down in a quest for this girl. She instructs him to drive on, and he does. There is an obvious attraction. Eventually they get to her place. Will she invite him up for “a cup of coffee”? Would he accept such a suggestion? In the event, she doesn”t though she probably was tempted to, and with what seems like profound regret, Morrissey notes: “I”m parking outside her home. And we”re shaking hands “˜Goodnight”, so politely.”
I”ll cheat and use the same text as I did last year. Welsh songbird Jem usually does the electronica thing, but here she is in ballad mode. And what a sad ballad it is, continuing the close-but-not-close-enough riff of Pachelbel. “I know that we can”t be together, but I just like to dream. It”s so strange the way our paths have crossed, how we were brought together.” The wonder of love desperately seeks physical expression, but even though she”d “love to spend the night”, she “can”t pay the price”, even if they are “so close to giving in”. The realisation arrives: “I know there”s no such thing as painless love”¦we can never win.” And still, in the next line Jem reiterates just how giddy this impossible love makes her “” it makes her “flying high”.
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