(Valentine’s!) Song Analysis #31: Richard Hawley – Tonight the Streets Are Ours

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Title: ‘Tonight the Streets Are Ours’
Where to find it: ‘Lady’s Bridge’ (2007, Mute)
Performed by: Richard Hawley
Words by: Richard Hawley

Many years ago, the Sheffield legend that is Richard Hawley came to the U.S. to do a short tour. He didn’t come anywhere near Washington, I didn’t have any friends who knew of him, let alone who liked him (typical), and I couldn’t stomach driving that long distance alone, even though I loved ‘Coles Corner’. So I had to give the tour a miss.

He’s never returned.

Not going to see him live is one of the things I’ve most regretted in life.

There are few singer/songwriters whose voice and songwriting talent have the ability to slay me, and to be honest, thinking about it, the only two that really do it for me are Hawley and Morrissey. They are slightly different in their lyrical style, but the end result when I listen to either of them is always the same. Essentially, I feel like I’m being cloaked with the gorgeous words, being sung by a man who has the most beautiful voice imaginable. Either of them could sing me to sleep. For the last time.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is Valentine’s Day. I’ve had quite a few bad ones in my time. In elementary school, the class list that my 2nd grade teacher handed out cut off the bottom of the Y in my first name so my name looked like ‘Marv’, which led to my ‘friends’ calling me “Marvin” until I graduated to junior high. My first year at university, I nearly fell over when a delivery man, holding a giant teddy bear, didn’t see me coming in his direction in the hallway. “Death by teddy bear” would have been an interesting newspaper headline… The one 2 years ago was spent in the company of a similarly lovelorn girlfriend and we watched Slow Club perform at DC9. But in general, most of my Valentine’s Days have been spent in hiding, wallowing in the kind of self-loathing Morrissey would be proud of.

But something’s changed. I am no longer sad or afraid to be alone on this Valentine’s Day. Over the last 5 months, I have slowly turned into a different person. Things have happened in my life and have helped make me see clearer. I don’t know how long this feeling will last, but I feel so much lighter and happier. Most importantly, I feel like I’m taking back my life and living it the way I want, living by the morals and standards that are important to me. Earlier this month, a friend of mine suffered a great loss, and she said she was so surprised that I was so giving of my concern and love, even though we did not know each other very well and she lived so far away.

It was when I was consoling her that I realized that I had been giving so much of myself to everyone else so much, I’d forgotten to take care of the most important person: me. It doesn’t mean that I intend to suddenly become selfish and self-centred. No, I wasn’t brought up that way; my parents taught me to be just and kind to all. It just means that I am now more cognisant of my own feelings and can better recognise those who love me and those who don’t. I am and will always be a hopeless romantic. I know my own love burns bright and transparent. For those who cannot recognise my sincerity, then I am better off without them.

Richard Hawley is quite good about writing the sad love song, and the most obvious choice for today would have been ‘Valentine’. But I don’t feel sad today. I feel like crying, not sad tears but happy ones. As such, I picked one of his most optimistic songs, which has a theme that reminds me of some bits and pieces for a short story I wrote long ago. One of them went like this: “But there’s so much more of this world I wanted to show you.” That’s the feeling I get from this song.

“The lights in our hearts tell no lies.” One of the truest, most beautiful lines of popular music ever written. If only I could lay my head on Richard Hawley’s shoulder and thank him for writing it.

First, the words:

Verse 1
Do you know why you’ve got feelings in your heart
Don’t let fear of feeling fool you
What you see sets you apart
And there’s nothing here to bind you,
It’s no way for life to start

Chorus
But do you know that
Tonight – the streets are ours
Tonight – the streets are ours
And these lights in our hearts they tell no lies

Verse 2
Those people, they got nothing in their souls
And they make our TVs blind us
From our vision and our goals
Oh the trigger of time it tricks you
So you have no way to grow

Chorus
But do you know that
Tonight – the streets are ours
Tonight – the streets are ours
These lights in our hearts, they tell no lies

Bridge
And no one else can haunt me
The way that you can haunt me
I need to know you want me
I couldn’t be without you
And the light that shines around you
No, nothing ever mattered more than not doubting
But tonight the streets are ours

Verse 3 (shortened version)
Do you know how to kill loneliness at last
Oh there’s so much there to heal dear
And make tears things of the past

Chorus (outro version)
But do you know that
Tonight – the streets are ours
Tonight – the streets are ours
These lights in our street are ours
Tonight – the streets are ours
And these lights in our hearts they tell no lies

Now, the analysis:

Compared to most of the songs I post here on Music in Notes, I think this one is pretty obvious. Therein lies the brilliance of Hawley: the words are so simple, yet they say so much.

In verse 1, we’ve got “Do you know why you’ve got feelings in your heart / don’t let fear of feeling fool you”: the woman he’s singing to is feeling confused about these sudden, new feelings she has in her heart. But just because they’re new and different, it doesn’t mean she should be scared. On the contrary, the subtext is that he’s saying it is time to embrace those feelings. “And there’s nothing here to bind you / it’s no way for life to start”: I love this, because it’s like he’s inviting her into a new world, a new life. There was nothing holding her to the life she had before these feelings took hold in her heart, and now the world – which includes him and his love – is hers for the taking.

Hawley gently nudges her into this beautifully lit world in the chorus: “But do you know that / tonight – the streets are ours”. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. I’m dying here. “And these lights in our hearts they tell no lies”: I like to think of this light in the hearts of man represents not only our souls, the part of us that keeps us alive and wanting to live, but also the burning passion we have for another person when we fall in love. In this line, what he’s saying is that this light that the both of them have, it’s not meant to be hidden. The lights burn bright – and true – for all the world to see. The guitars are amazing on the chorus; it honestly feels like the stars are so bright, they have no choice but to glitter down on you.

Verse 2 is more of a commentary on the lack of passion and real feeling in most people’s lives, “Those people, they got nothing in their souls / and they make our TVs blind us / from our vision and our goals”, and they have sad little lives because thanks to this lack of feeling, they will never feel the way the two of them do, they will never feel that love. This brings up my feelings of Morrissey’s ‘I Like You’, in which the Moz emotes, “Magistrates who spend their lives / hiding their mistakes / they look at you and I / and envy makes them cry”, and more recently the Crookes‘ ‘Sofie’, “and in time, we’ll see that we’re not like them, but just like you and me”, indicating what they have is very special indeed.

If you thought the chorus was amazing, then you’re in for a treat when you get to the bridge. “And no one else can haunt me / the way that you can haunt me”: when you’re in love with someone and you are not with them, it’s like he/she is hanging around like a ghost because you cannot and will not stop thinking about him/her. “I need to know you want me”: self-explanatory. It could have come out cliched but somehow it doesn’t. Probably the worst position a person in unrequited love could be in is waiting for that other person, ideally, to return the feelings and show he/she is in love with you. “I couldn’t be without you / And the light that shines around you”: probably the second most beautiful line in this song. The woman that he loves, she is radiant, glowing with beauty and virtue, and he’s telling the whole world right here that he cannot live without her. Is there no end to this man’s talent?

I think verse 3 was made ambiguous on purpose. “Do you know how to kill loneliness at last / oh there’s so much there to heal dear / and make tears things of the past”. It’s unclear whose loneliness and tears he’s speaking of: his, hers, or both of theirs. Either way, if they get together (and I sincerely hope they did, because if not, sorry, this woman needs to get her head examined), they are together and can heal each other. Because that is the measure of true love. Being there for the one you love, in good times and bad times.

Lastly, the song, performed live on Live at Jools Holland in 2007. I’m inching closer to death as I watch this.

Song Analysis #30: The Beatles – Nowhere Man

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Title: ‘Nowhere Man’
Where to find it: ‘Rubber Soul’ (1965, Parlophone/EMI)
Performed by: The Beatles
Words by: John Lennon

Being a Beatles fan for as long as I can remember, I had to come to grips that at some point, I was going to have to do a Beatles song here on Music in Notes. The problem for someone like me, who has lost count on just how many Beatles books I’ve bought and don’t even go into the CDs, DVDs, and whatever else I have (you don’t want to know how many bits and pieces I bought off eBay in badges, patches for my backpack, etc.), it’s nearly impossible to choose just one song. So I thought about this cassette tape my uncle gave me when I was really young. I’m guessing I must have been around 6 or 7 at the time and I had my own tape player. He had gone through all his Beatles records sometime in the late ’70s and recorded a bunch of his favourites to tape The ink is wearing off the paper now but if you look closely at side B, the first track on there is ‘Nowhere Man’.

I remember thinking just how different it sounded to the chirpy “yeahs” and “ohhs” of ‘Please Please Me’, even if the harmonies that I loved were still there. At that young age, I was able to discern this track was somehow different. You don’t know a whole lot about the world at age 7, so I think I can be forgiven for not understanding what this song is about way back when. And to be fair, I’m still not sure what it is about, but I’m going to give it my best shot. I seem to recall that there’s a clip of John Lennon talking about the song in The Beatles Anthology, but I am not going to run and find my DVDs, because that would be cheating!

First, the words:

He’s a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody

Doesn’t have a point of view
Knows not where he’s going to
Isn’t he a bit like you and me?

Nowhere man, please listen
You don’t know what you’re missing
Nowhere man, the world is at your command

He’s as blind as he can be
Just sees what he wants to see
Nowhere man, can you see me at all?

Nowhere man, don’t worry
Take your time, don’t hurry
Leave it all till somebody else lends you a hand

Doesn’t have a point of view
Knows not where he’s going to
Isn’t he a bit like you and me?

Nowhere man, please listen
You don’t know what you’re missing
Nowhere man, the world is at your command

He’s a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody

Now, the analysis:

It’s inescapable. The whole song is about this ‘nowhere man’. But what is a nowhere man? It sounds pretty heavy, doesn’t it? And if it is heavy, why are there are those “la la la las”? That’s the Beatles for you. When the Fab Four started, the songs were pretty cut and dry in terms of content: boy loves girl (‘And I Love Her’, ‘Love Me Do’); boy does not want to be with girl (‘You Can’t Do That’); boy’s friend is saying girl likes boy (‘She Loves You’). But once they got into the ‘Rubber Soul’ era, there was no turning back; they’d decided it was high time (no pun intended) to shift gears. Luckily for us, switching gears didn’t compromise on songwriting quality, nor signal a change in quality of their playing, which just got better and better and more inventive.

‘Nowhere Man’ was Lennon’s big chance to be philosophical, and when I read the lyrics now, I wonder if they were also meant to be political as well, because it doesn’t matter what year you’re living in, you can apply it directly to your own life, your own society. The song begins and ends with similar words, generally in the style of “He’s a real nowhere man / sitting in his nowhere land / making all his nowhere plans for nobody”. What can this mean? You can never really be nowhere, so he must mean either mentally nowhere. I’ve also considered this might mean nowhere as viewed by, say, homeless people who have nowhere to go and nowhere to turn to. In either case, this person is sat in a state of not being, kind of like in ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ where “nothing is real”. You can sit and dream all day, but you’re not going to get anywhere just by dreaming. You have to do. That’s what I get from the opening and closing of ‘Nowhere Man’. I got all of that out of three lines. Three.

Then the second part goes, “Doesn’t have a point of view / knows not where he’s going to / isn’t he a bit like you and me?” Okay. So this nowhere man doesn’t have opinions or doesn’t know where he is going. This sounds like most young people, doesn’t it? Or older people who still haven’t figured out what they want to be doing or what they want out of life. Again, pretty deep stuff for a ‘pop band’. I also like how he’s including us, the listeners, into his big secret. Also note that the lines are not judgmental. They are just telling us what is happening, like a story unfolding right in front of us.

In the quasi-chorus, we get “Nowhere man, please listen / you don’t know what you’re missing / nowhere man, the world is at your command”. Lennon is talking to this nowhere man and reminding him that there’s a bigger world out there, outside of his head. It’s funny how this reminds me of something I wrote for my first boyfriend. He always said that he wanted me to see the world, which seemed a ridiculous pie in the sky kind of idea when we were together because I was very sick. The thought of just leaving my bed to walk down the stairs most days was an impossibility. He challenged me one day to write something, anything about being able to be healthy and free to go out and do whatever I wanted. The short story I came up with, I have no idea where it is now, but I remember this line I wrote for one of the characters, “I had so many things to show you.” That’s the feeling I get from Lennon in this section. If you don’t look outside your normal everyday sphere, you risk getting stuck. Not saying you have to dream big but you have to dream, or else you might not see what else is waiting out there for you.

The problem seems to come when Lennon realises, “He’s as blind as he can be / just sees what he wants to see / nowhere man, can you see me at all?” How do you talk to someone set in their ways? This goes back to what I was thinking about at the start of this analysis, that maybe this had some roots in political thinking. People tend to be conservative, liberal, middle of the road, etc. and stay there. It takes a lot for someone to be swayed to the left or the right if they seem happy where they began. I feel like America is very much like this right now; neither side wants to back down and is “blind” to everything but their causes and constituents and just see what they want to see, but for us to go forward, there has to be compromises on both sides.

But instead of pushing this poor nowhere man into the deep end of a pool, trying to see if he can swim or not, Lennon is only gently nudging: “Nowhere man, don’t worry / take your time, don’t hurry / leave it all ’til somebody else lends you a hand”. These are some more lines that I adore for their softness. For most people, you need to learn how to fly first, and baby birds being forcibly pushed out of the family nest on the safe, comfortable branch probably isn’t the best way forward. Lennon realises that it’s perfectly fine if nowhere man does this in his own time. It’s the wanting, the desire to do something different, to try a new tack, to try a new way, that is more important than trying to rush into something new.

And I got all of this from a song that doesn’t even last 3 minutes. ‘Nowhere Man’ is a really simple song, but incredibly deceptively so. If you came upon this post not already believing that John Lennon was a genius, think again.

Lastly, the song, a stream of the song. ’nuff said.

Song Analysis #29: Pulp – Disco 2000

Song Analysis, , , , , ,

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…