Category Archives: Song Analysis

Song Analysis #29: Pulp – Disco 2000

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Title: ‘Disco 2000’
Where to find it: ‘Different Class’ (1995, Island)
Performed by: Pulp
Words by: Jarvis Cocker

It seems very strange to me that we now look at Jarvis Cocker not so much as the frontman of legendary Sheffield Britpop band Pulp but as the host of BBC 6music weekend programme Sunday Service. It should probably come as no surprise based on the wittiness of his lyrics in those days back when Pulp were chart kings that he’s an excellent presenter and you can’t help getting sucked into his show. (I’m very to sorry to report this, but it looks like he’s taking a break from the 6music controls until 2015, so if you want some Northern flavour, you’ll just have to be content with Guy Garvey‘s Finest Hour in the meantime.)

Right. So why did I choose this song? It’s been in the back of my mind for a long time. There used to be this wonderful Britpop / indie night at the Black Cat in DC called Razzmatazz that my friends and I used to go to. We’d be there for hours and it was one of the few dances I actually enjoyed, because I’d know all the songs. (It also helped that I knew the one of the DJs, so I could request songs ahead of time. He had been so grateful for the bands I’d tipped him off to, such as Golden Silvers.) I always watched the huge response on the floor for Pulp’s ‘Common People’ and ‘Disco 2000’ with some level of amazement. I still have these images of these girls in big skirts and heels going absolutely mental for both songs, which conflicted with what was going on in my mind, “um, isn’t this some serious stuff he’s talking about in the song?” Of course, when you’re out with your drunk friends on a night out, that’s probably not the best time to start any philosophical talk…

Most of the songwriters that I like have one thing in common: they tend not to go for the obvious in either theme or word choice. With Jarvis Cocker, you always knew he was going to give you something left of centre. Back in the ’60s during the psychedelic era, there was all this talk about being individuals. What Pulp wanted was an extension of that, “we don’t want no trouble, we just want the right to be different. That’s all.” They were different. I’m just wondering how many people realised just how different they were, if that makes sense.

First, the words:

Verse 1
Well we were born within 1 hour of each other.
Our mothers said we could be sister and brother.
Your name is Deborah, Deborah.
It never suited ya.
They said that when we grew up,
we’d get married, and never split up.
We never dated, although often I thought of it.

Pre-chorus
Oh Deborah, do you recall?
Your house was very small,
with wood chip on the wall.
When I came around to call,
you didn’t notice me at all.

Chorus
I said, “let’s all meet up in the year 2000.
Won’t it be strange when we’re all fully grown.
Be there 2 o’clock by the fountain down the road.”
I never knew that you’d get married.
I would be living down here on my own
on that damp and lonely Thursday years ago.

Verse 2
You were the first girl at school to get breasts.
Martin said that yours were the best.
The boys all loved you but I was a mess.
I had to watch them trying to get you undressed.
We were friends but that was as far as it went.
I used to walk you home sometimes but it meant,
oh it meant nothing to you,
‘cos you were so popular.

Pre-chorus
Deborah, do you recall?
Your house was very small,
with woodchip on the wall.
When I came around to call,
you didn’t notice me at all.

Chorus
I said, “let’s all meet up in the year 2000.
Won’t it be strange when we’re all fully grown.
Be there 2 o’clock by the fountain down the road.
I never knew that you’d get married.
I would be living down here on my own
on that damp and lonely Thursday years ago.

Bridge
Oh yeah,
oh yeah.

(spoken)
And now it’s all over,
You’ve paid your money and you’ve taken your choice
And I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again
But Deborah, I just wanted you to know
I remember every single thing

Pre-chorus
Oh Deborah, do you recall?
Your house was very small,
with wood chip on the wall.
When I came around to call,
you didn’t notice me at all.

Extended chorus
I said let’s all meet up in the year 2000.
Won’t it be strange when we’re all fully grown.
Be there 2 o’clock by the fountain down the road.
I never knew that you’d get married.
I would be living down here on my own,
on that damp and lonely Thursday years ago.

Outro
Oh, what are you doing Sunday, baby.
Would you like to come and meet me maybe?
You can even bring your baby.
Ohhh ooh ooh. Ooh ooh ooh ooh.
What are you doing Sunday, baby.
Would you like to come and meet me maybe?
You can even bring your baby.
Ooh ooh oh. Ooh ooh ooh ooh. Ooh ooh ooh ooh. Oh.

Now, the analysis:

Cocker has said the lyrics are based on personal experience, with the fountain mentioned being one that exists in Sheffield. I hate the term “friend zone”, but there really is no other way to describe such a situation: we’ve all grown up with people of the opposite sex we’ve found attractive (physically, mentally, or otherwise) and for whatever reason, we never end up with them. There are scores of reasons why this happens. Sometimes we’re scared of losing the friendships that matter and we decide it’s safer to play “what if” for the rest of our lives instead of risking rejection and possibly banishment from our friends’ lives, because they mean too much to us. Sometimes it’s clear the other person doesn’t like us like that and we make the voluntary choice to stay in that person’s life, even if it hurts just being around him or her. In any event, being in the friend zone is not a pleasant thing. It is fraught with the worry of embarrassing yourself, making social gaffes in front of the other person, etc. etc. etc. Not a good place to be in. And all because your silly heart had to get involved!

‘Disco 2000′ is quite deceptive because at the end, it sounds like the protagonist is okay with reuniting with the crush of his young life, even offering up “you can even bring your baby” when they meet in the year 2000. But is he really thinking that? As a woman, I think I’d avoid meeting the wife and/or children of guys I used to like in my school days. Why risk putting yourself in a situation that might stir up feelings inside, no matter how long time has passed? That’s why I’m thinking, why oh why in god’s name would he agree to see her baby? Wouldn’t that just tear him up inside, having to see the product of this woman he loved in secret when they were kids and the guy she just happened to end up with? (I know, maybe the guy she married isn’t so bad at all. But I’m speaking to the protagonist’s emotional investment in this woman, which trumps all.)

From the start, Cocker makes it clear that there was some part of destiny that they had become friends. They were born on the same day, within the same hour. (This bit sounded strange and pushing it to me, but okay. Go on, storyteller Jarvis.) Their mothers knew each other, and people joked that because they were so close, they expected them to get married when they were older. Not so uncommon: I hear stories like this all the time, but more from my parents’ generation than my own, and if the “wood chip” wallpaper properly dates the song, they were kids back in the ’60s and ’70s. Meeting in the year 2000 would mean they’d be in their 40s or 50s by the time they met.

As the song goes on, it becomes clearer that the 21st century equivalent to this song is Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong With Me’. Sometimes it’s fantastic having a friend of the opposite sex. You can be yourself around him/her. It’s nice to have someone with you who looks out for you and cares about you, and all the while you don’t have to worry all he/she cares about is getting into your pants. You trust each other as friends. The problem comes along when you’ve determined you have feelings for that other person and have sit on the sidelines, while others of your sex go after your friend. You can’t do anything, because you’ve already have indicated you don’t have romantic feelings for your friend. Uncomfortable much?

In both songs, it sounds like it’s not so much what the person singing it could have done but that he/she was invisible to the other person, having so many more prominent, interesting people in her life to occupy her time: “I used to walk you home sometimes / but it meant, oh it meant nothing to you / ‘cos you were so popular.” I can’t really say what is causing the invisibility, as it’s happened so many times in my life with guys, it’s become ridiculous, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how it happens. Maybe it’s true what they say, nice guys/girls finish last? “I never knew that you’d get married / I would be living down here on my own / on that damp and lonely Thursday years ago”: in 20/20 hindsight, he is kicking himself for not having done anything. Time seems to past so quickly, doesn’t it? Time has escaped him, and he realises the error of his ways: that “damp and lonely Thursday years ago” seemed to be one tiny, inconsequential unit of time while in the moment, but now it’s looming large in his psyche. He made a mistake, he should have done something then, and now he can’t go back. “The boys all loved you but I was a mess”: not sure what made him “a mess” but maybe he was not in a position to do anything? Maybe he was conflicted on how he should act?

Going back to those lines when he’s imploring this woman to come meet him and bring her baby – part of her now matured life – I get very uncomfortable when Jarvis sings, “Oh what are you doing Sunday, baby”. It’s like he’s trying to infantilise her by calling her “baby”, as if that would be the magic pill that would take them back to those “years ago”. And his effort here is now coming across as cocky. He’s trying desperately to make things light but I hear them coming through loud and clear as “I’m sad and lonely”. Even the “oohs” at the end are uncomfortable to me. Why he is so happy? Or maybe he’s doing what Morrissey has done so many times so deftly: made a song that is filled with hurt and pain but disguised it behind a ‘happy’ melody that it’s virtually undetectable, just that Morrissey prefers “lalalas” over “ooh ooh oohs”. (Okay, that just looks weird in print…)

One of those girls in DC in a big skirt and heels dancing blissfully unaware as I mentioned earlier in this analysis, I will never forget what she looked like. The same woman hit me in the face with her elbow and pushed me out of the way the night The Big Pink were in town at the Black Cat, clambering onstage like some kind of lumbering animal to get their set list. I suspect she’s the kind of person I think the meaning of this song will be lost on.

Lastly, the song, in its quirky promo form. The video doesn’t match what’s going on the lyrics, so I don’t know if the band did that on purpose (knowing no-one would want to watch a video that was the lyrics played out literally) but sadly, it takes away from the meaning and cheapens it. (Yes, yes, I know, sex sells…but god almighty, there is more to life than sex, people!) In that respect, I’m really glad I heard the song long before I saw the music video. That said, it’s interesting how a lot of commenters are saying that with its square frame format, this video predicted Instagram years before its arrival. Hmm…

Song Analysis #28: Duran Duran – None of the Above

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Title: ‘None of the Above’
Where to find it: ‘Duran Duran’, known to fans as ‘The Wedding Album’ (1993, EMI/Capitol)
Performed by: Duran Duran
Words by: most likely Simon Le Bon

I am a Duranie and I’m not ashamed to admit it. When the internet revolution hit, I was in prime position to take advantage of it: a friend and I started a Duran Duran fans mailing list and group on eGroups, which was later bought by Yahoo! We wanted to start it because being younger and not having first-hand experience with the mental, massive, early heyday of the band in the early ’80s, we’d been mocked and made fun by Duranies, mostly female and of the entitled variety, who had. They claimed, in their deluded little minds, that there was no way that any of us “youngsters” could ever be as big of fans of the band as they were. I’ve experienced this phenomenon with many a band since, and to those small-minded people, I want to tell them this, for this is what I wish them to realise: do not belittle or minimise the experiences or loyalty of a fan for a band. They may be younger, or live in another country from where the band is from, they may not have as much money as you, what have you, but everyone loves and worships a band who means a lot to them in their own way. They do not deserve to be marginalised under any circumstances. Love for a band has no boundaries.

Through our group, I made several friends that I’m still close to today and I cherish those friendships. I also cherish Duran Duran’s music, which unfortunately gets a ridiculously bad rap in most people’s eyes. Yes, 1984’s ‘Seven and the Ragged Tiger’ wasn’t the apex of Western civilisation, but it meant so much to an awful lot of people. And while Duran Duran’s later work in the ’90s didn’t sell well, there is a hell of a lot of good material in there that some people will never get a chance to listen to, because they’ve already put down the band in their heads. To those people, I recommend 1993’s ‘Duran Duran’, known to us fans as The Wedding Album because the front cover has a photo of each band member’s parents the day they got married. On there, you will find the timeless mega hit ‘Ordinary World’; the infectious ‘Too Much Information’; the incredibly nimble and beautiful ‘Breath After Breath’, starring famed Brazilian musician Milton Nascimento; the fact-based narrative of ‘Sin of the City’, chronicling the real life tragedy of the Happy Land club fire in the Bronx in 1990; the hilariously cheeky yet weirdly erotic ‘UMF’; as well as the song that turned me into a Duran fan initially, ‘Come Undone’.

When I considered a song for Music in Notes to exemplify how important Duran Duran is to my life, I wracked my brain to come up with a song that wasn’t a famous one (think ‘Rio’ or ‘The Reflex’), yet showed off the power of song in a style most people who don’t know much at all about the band wouldn’t associated with them. I hope I have done them justice, as I credit the band for saving my life during my years in university.

First, the words:

Chorus (intro version with just vocals)
I am I myself alone,
I realise I never need to use no-one
When it comes down to my soul,
Freedom puts my faith in none of the above

Verse 1
There was a time I was so afraid
Of everything people around me said
That I wanted to hide my face in the shadows

Verse 2
There was a time on a bed of nails
I was dreaming a plan I thought could not fail
But no power under the sun could pull it together

Pre-chorus
I can’t take this attitude
Got to show now I got to move on
God knows where I’m going to
It’s a lonely burning question

Chorus
I am I myself alone
Realise I never need to use no-one
Money, power, holy roads,
Freedom puts my faith in none of the above

Verse 3
If there’s a time that we ever see
The nature of life in reality
Then I want to be there
To kick at the answer

Pre-chorus
I can’t take this attitude
Got to show now I got to move on
God knows where I’m going to
It’s a lonely burning question

Chorus (modified, extended version)
I am I myself alone
Realize I never need to use no-one
Money, power, holy roads,
Freedom puts my faith in none of the above

I am I myself alone
Realise I never need to use no-one
When it comes down to my soul
Freedom puts my faith in none of the above

Bridge with spoken word

Chorus
I am I myself alone
Realise I never need to use no-one
Money, power, holy road,
Freedom puts my faith in none of the above

I am I myself alone
Realise I never need to use no-one
When it comes down to my soul
Freedom puts my faith in none of the above

Outro
None of the above
My faith in none of the above
None of the above
I stand by none of the above
None of the above
I stand by none of the above

Now, the analysis:

People seem to forget – or maybe they refuse to acknowledge – that Duran Duran could be a very funky band. My favourite album of theirs changes from day to day, and one of my all-time favourites is not ‘Rio’ with its famous Patrick Nagel painting on its cover but ‘Notorious’, which marked the start of the band’s association with producer Nile Rodgers, more famously known as the lead guitarist of Chic. It’s just one example of stuff he did prior to working with Daft Punk that wasn’t rubbish. ‘None of the Above’ is indeed funky and proves everyone who thinks Duran Duran is merely a “pop band”, but far more interesting is how the band decided to go in an agnostic / atheist direction for the lyrics.

Sartre once famously quipped, “L’enfer, c’est les autres”, or “hell is other people”. I think I can relate to this a bit. When I was in my late teens, I was an angry little thing. I don’t think I was necessary mad or angry at certain other people, I just wasn’t happy with the cards life had dealt me, and I became terribly envious of anyone healthy who could do whatever they wanted with their lives. That was not my life, nor has it ever been. I had to give up my dream of being a singer and musician; I knew there was no way on god’s green earth that a girl with issues of terrible fatigue could ever cope with the demands of going out on the road as touring musician.

I’d gotten to the point where I was just sick of being sick, a common thread that runs through the minds of each and every person who copes with a chronic illness. In some ways, I feel like my childhood was robbed from me, from no fault of my own, and it’s been hard coming to terms with that. Even these days when I’m in a pretty good place physically, when I feel great and my body isn’t acting up, I still question the existence of a benevolent, all knowing god. I used to wonder aloud, “why the hell was I given all these terrible things to deal with, why is my body so messed up, why have I been hospitalised so many times, when so-and-so person I know doesn’t have anything wrong with them and she can do whatever she wants?”

I changed my mind slightly when my father died, I think for my own sanity: I had to believe that there was a heaven and an afterlife, because I wanted to believe and expect that one day I would see him again. He was the man in my life who had always supported me in whatever I wanted to do, and that there was something more to life than what I was living here on earth. Two years later, I was hospitalised for 2 weeks with a terrible prognosis and thought I was dying; when I was finally discharged, I came out scared but okay, immediately going out to buy a cross to wear on my neck. I wear this cross now not so much for religious reasons, but because I didn’t know how else to “thank”, and whose decision it was for giving me the chance to live again. I do think I’ve had too many close calls and there must be some reason, some purpose for my life on earth for me to be “saved” so many times. But as for the existence of a god, who knows for sure really, right?

The brilliance of Duran Duran’s ‘None of the Above’ is the universal application of its lyrics. Everyone, no matter what your life situation, has been put in circumstances where you feel like you’ve been forsaken, whether it be by your parents, your family, your friends, or even God. Morrissey has touched on this theme quite a few times in his writing, more specifically about how being brought up Catholic made him come out of his childhood with Catholic guilt. Interestingly enough, this Catholic guilt “phenomenon” is something he shares with Duran Duran bassist John Taylor, who has discussed on occasion his difficulty with the guilt and how drug use “helped” him to reduce inhibitions when sleeping with groupies while on tour. So in essence, the Catholic guilt forced him into a corner with drugs, and the drugs won. John was quite a junkie for many years and all us Duranies are so thankful he was able to become sober and come out on the other side in one piece. He’s still with us. Their good friend Michael Hutchence of INXS wasn’t so lucky, and Simon Le Bon seems to have predicted their tragic loss in the haunting ‘Michael You’ve Got a Lot to Answer For’ on 1997’s ‘Medazzaland’ (another one of my favourite Duran albums).

Going back to Sartre’s quote, ‘None of the Above’ questions the importance of people in our lives in addition to religion. The lines “I am I myself alone, I realise I never need to use no-one” are both showing incredible independence. It’s no wonder I used to play this song very loudly before I left my dorm room, headed out to take a midterm. It was the personal, musical pep talk I needed in a life at school that was lived, outside of class anyway, alone. But the follow-up lines are also tinged with sadness: “When it comes down to my soul / freedom puts my faith in none of the above.” It was John Donne who wrote, “no man is an island”, yet in this song, Simon Le Bon wants us not only to believe, but to champion that man (or woman) who can do it all without any outside support or interference, human or divine.

Freedom, Le Bon says, is the key that we all need to be able go out there, alone, and be a success. This freedom could be from religious ideals forced upon you as a child that no longer ring true when you grow to be an adult and have adult experiences. It could be freedom from societal or parental standards that served as impenetrable shackles while we were children that no longer have bearing on our lives now that we are grown. Just as it could equally represent the freedom from the friends we used to think were well meaning in their advice but we’ve now learned to steer clear of, for everything we used to think about them has now been turned on its head and we are no longer in agreement.

When I first heard the song, I was playing it on a used copy of ‘The Wedding Album’ I’d bought cheaply from the CD exchange on the main drag near uni. Even as the tune crackled and the CD would skip, I felt the confidence, the cocky attitude of this song. I’m not an extrovert. I’m just not. I wasn’t born as one, and I’ll never be one. This song gave the 19-year old version of me through the words “can’t take this attitude / got to show now I got to move on” the hope that it was possible to not only survive but thrive without having to lean on anyone else.

My mother, ever the pessimist, used to have this saying when I was growing up, “there is no-one you can count on in this life but yourself.” I always hated it when she said that. It made me all the more hard-headed to find the best of friends and the best of lovers. But I am learning, slowly, that as many friends that I have and people I know in this country, in Britain, and in others, there are some that aren’t really looking out for me the way I look out for them. I had my own moments of being forsaken in 2013, and they weren’t at all pleasant. ‘None of the Above’ reminds me not that I have to be a cold, hard, unyielding beast of a person to survive life. That, I believe, was the take home message Le Bon wanted to give to the public because Duran Duran were going through a rough period in their professional lives and had felt forsaken by the same industry who had championed them through their hugely profitable years in the ’80s. No, when I listen to ‘None of the Above’, I am reminded of my teenage self, the girl that felt the world was against her. I am no longer that girl. I am a much different woman now, a woman who is still learning from life and experience but can go out there with maybe not 100% confidence in myself (seriously, who has that kind of confidence?) but with enough to know I’m worth something great to this world. Thank you, Duran Duran.

Lastly, the song, a stream of the song from the album (there was never a promo video made for this song, as it was never released on its own as a single).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BP4GQPbn4Aw

Song Analysis #27: Semisonic – Closing Time

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Update 18/01/15: this past weekend, this post was inexplicably barraged by comments, which I thought was a bit strange, given that I posted it on Music in Notes a year ago. A woman with a science background (doubly weird, considering my main vocation) wrote a post a couple days ago, reminiscing about the birth of one of her children, tying this event in with Dan Wilson explaining in 2008 what the song is about. (Google it, and you’ll find said video.)

Personally, I think it’s strange anyone would use anything related to a bar and drinking as a metaphor for the birth of a baby, but that’s artistic license. Also, seeing that the writer has already explained the meaning of his song, this post is now closed to comments.

Title: ‘Closing Time’
Where to find it: ‘Feeling Strangely Fine’ (1998, MCA)
Performed by: Semisonic
Words by: Dan Wilson

There is a small group of songs, definitely numbering less than 10, that I would say I recall sitting in the back of one of our friends’ cars, with the radio turned way up, and everyone knew all the words too. And knew when to break out the air guitar during the solo. To say that ‘Closing Time’ by Semisonic was a song that defined my and my friends’ lives in school would be an understatement. The song spoke to me instrumentally first, with the lyrics feeling right for the music, but its meaning didn’t really come to me until I started thinking about what songs I might want to analyse on Music in Notes in 2014.

I pick up song lyrics quickly, and in a world where we generally only listened to regular radio on boomboxes and the internet had barely become a thing, ‘Semisonic’ quickly became one of those tunes that I had on repeat not only on my pathetic sound system at school, but also in my head. It became so large in my ‘mythology’ (I’m being sarcastic; that’s why mythology has single quotes around it) that my girlfriends all knew how much I loved that song. So much that one of them tried to set me up with a guy they knew who boasted he could play the song on guitar and he knew all the words too. (See? Even back then I was hopelessly drawn to musician types.) I turned up for a friend’s birthday party where I was supposed to meet this guy, but he only had eyes for another one of our friends. At the time, I was a little mad. We had the music thing in common, surely he’d be interested in me. What the heck happened?

Turned out he was better suited for our friend anyway, and they ended up getting married, which I am so thankful for because they are one of the few couples I know who support each other through everything. Even when 2 years ago, when they had to say their final goodbyes to their young daughter who had been born with a birth defect, they were each other’s rock as I sat there at the funeral, feeling dumbstruck by grief, wondering how they would continue. And yet they have, because their marriage is one built with so much strength.

Like many of the song analyses I’ve done for this site, I don’t think ‘Closing Time’ is as simple as most people think. Yes, it means ‘time for last orders’, but closing time can also indicate closing of a chapter in your life, and while the two words taken by themselves are ambiguous whether or not that closing is positive or negative, I think without a doubt in Dan Wilson’s world, it’s overwhelming positive.

First, the words:

Verse 1
Closing time
Open all the doors and let you out into the world
Closing time
Turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl
Closing time
One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer
Closing time
You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here

Chorus
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
Take me home

Verse 2
Closing time
Time for you to go out to the places you will be from
Closing time
This room won’t be open ’til your brothers or your sisters come
So gather up your jackets, move it to the exits
I hope you have found a friend
Closing time
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end

Chorus
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
Take me home

Bridge
Closing time
Time for you to go out to the places you will be from

Chorus / Outro
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home*
I know who I want to take me home
Take me home

Closing time
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end

Now, the analysis:

If you look straight at the words without thinking about what they mean, ‘Closing Time’ is a pretty repetitive and simple song, isn’t it? I mean, look. “Closing time” gets sung. A lot. Again and again. Even the bridge is stolen from the second verse. It’s important to note that there’s no pretentiousness whatsoever in word choice here, which suits the theory that it’s really a song about a bartender saying “last call!” and taking the last alcohol orders before the lights get turned on and everyone gets kicked out of the joint. But…let’s look for a bit more meaning, shall we?

When a bar closes, people stop drinking because they can’t buy any more booze, and the lights go on. I am more familiar with this concept in the gig setting, where the lights go on after the headline band has left the stage for good. Dan Wilson sings in verse 1, “open all the doors and let you out into the world”. I think this is an amazing setup for something that transcends the end of the night at your local watering hole. Open, close. Open, close. Open, close. (That just made me think of my dentist.) Okay, so the bar closes, which forces everyone in that bar out on the street, “to be let out into the world”. There is something very freeing about that line, which might strike you as odd and contradictory, seeing that “closing time” sounds very final, a conclusion.

“Turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl”: the lights have turned on, and now everyone can see each other for what they are, warts and all. “You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here”: if you take this literally, it could mean you have the option to go home with someone else, which is what often happens at bars at the conclusion of the night anyway, right? But I’m thinking “home” in this instance was the life you had before you entered this place: not literally the bar, but that moment in time where you found yourself, examining what you were doing with your life. There’s a moment on the Beatles Anthology where Paul McCartney admits that the thought of taking drugs scared him because it would affect his mind and how “you could never go home…again”. When you come to a turning point in your life, often you can’t go back. Choices have been made, and you have no choice but to keep moving, and to keep moving forward.

The choruses are the repeated lines, “I know who I want to take me home”. When I was younger, I remember thinking this was the oddest words to string together for a chorus. But if you think about the line in isolation, without the song, what Wilson is saying is there is a person for everyone. I think I can safely say that we all have (or had) ideas of what our perfect match would look like, what colour his/her hair and eyes would be, and what kind of person he/she would be. Whether or not in this song this person exists in the protagonist’s life already is irrelevant: this image of perfection lives on his mind and his heart. The repetition serves to drive home this point, that he’s adamant it’s this one person. In the outro version of the chorus, I have put an asterisk where Wilson takes the liberty of adding a bit of flair by changing the notes up a bit.

Verse 2 is more confusing. “Time for you to go out to the places you will be from”: is he talking about past and future lives? “This room won’t be open ’til your brothers or your sisters come”: I honestly don’t know what this means. What room? Whose brothers and sisters? I doubt he means literally someone’s siblings, so I’m guessing he’s referring to the brotherhood (sisterhood?) of man. Maybe these are the ghosts of his loved ones, maybe that’s why he specifies “brothers or sisters”? Now I’m starting to think this verse might be about death. If yes, “So gather up your jackets, move it to the exits / I hope you have found a friend” makes more sense. It is time to go, so take all of your worldly possessions, because you need to leave this astral plane.

And then we come to the most important line of ‘Closing Time’, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” Kind of self-explanatory, but it’s useful to tie back into the theme of death, with a subsequent rebirth. But I also really like this line, especially how Wilson sings it so emphatically. It’s not sung sadly or angrily. It isn’t melancholic or regretful, even at the end of the song. It just is. And I like that a lot. We’re not twanging any heartstrings in this song. No-one is hunched over with bloodshot eyes because they’re at their wit’s end and can cry no more. No, this is a song about accepting what has happened and having the strength to move on. And here’s another nice ‘coincidence’. Look at the title of the album where it came from: ‘Feeling Strangely Fine’. Nice one, boys from Minneapolis.

For me, the ending of 2013 was tumultuous, yet oddly cathartic and freeing. Clear as day, like someone had someone taken off my rose-coloured glasses, I saw who really cared about me and who didn’t. In a span of 24 hours, I went from being the unhappiest woman in town to one feeling gratitude for friends who might live far away but have hearts of gold. Now I can go forward into this new year embracing the friends who matter and forgetting the ones who don’t.

Lastly, the song, in its stirring promo form that had my eyes glued to the tv screen. This was before YouTube, you know! There is also a payphone in this video because yes kids, there was a time when we didn’t have mobile phones. Imagine that.