Exploring the Meaning of the Lyrics

Interview with Pete Steinkopf, guitarist for the Bouncing Souls

Fri, 03 Aug 2012 12:36:00 -0400

Interview with Pete Steinkopf, guitarist for the Bouncing Souls

Follow me on Twitter!

Sun, 29 Jul 2012 12:55:31 -0400

So I’m not really active on Tumblr anymore, but I am still writing about music.

You can follow me on Twitter: bit.ly/Nd6gLp

Or check out my work on my website (on the home page, or either of the “articles” tabs): bit.ly/OpWNFV

As one of my friends pointed out, the foundation of the music journalism I do now is largely rooted in the analytic tactics I’d been working on here.

Lost and Found

Sat, 26 Nov 2011 11:01:08 -0500

BET YOU THOUGHT I HAD FALLEN OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!

This island has become
An ocean and my boat’s too small
The waves are crashing in
And I can’t save this sinking ship
I sent out signal flares
But no one out there seems to care
Now the voice inside my head
Is the only thing that I have left

[This is the second song in which I examine the theme of literary conceit through imagery of a ship at sea (see an analysis of Brand New’s “Play Crack the Sky” here). I believe that the song operates on a literal and metaphorical level—the narrator experiences the literal sinking of his ship, while his subconscious, emotional self drowns in a figurative manifestation of its guilt. Senses Fail singer Buddy Nielsen chooses an interesting transition to open “Lost and Found”—the change of an “island” to an “ocean.” Although both words denote loneliness (isolation in an island, and seclusion in vastness in an ocean), Nielsen chooses not to reveal the metaphysical basis of this song; as far as the listener is concerned, this story is still a narrative. Nielsen then contrasts his view of himself (represented by the boat that’s “too small”) with the immensity of the ocean. The sinking ship is metaphor for a still-unnamed conflict, as the narrator is beaten while he’s already down (“the waves are crashing in”), and he desperately tries to attain external help (“I sent out signal flares”). At this point, the narrator relinquishes all worldliness, and introduces his subconscious (“the voice inside my head”) as the only essence of his being that he still can grasp.]

This is the part where I’ll admit
I’m getting what I deserve
And now I’m lost at sea
I’m drowning in what I won’t be
I’m haunted by the sound (Sweet sound of my last breath)

[Transition to the narrator’s conscious as the primary speaker in the story. Interesting use of antithesis to highlight the sharp contrast between the idea of “drowning” (i.e., immersed in too much of something) with “in what I won’t be” (i.e., the absence of character traits that makes the narrator feel guilt). Nielsen follows with another paradoxical statement that the narrator is haunted (therefore still alive) by the “sweet sound of my last breath” (his own death).]

Twenty days at sea
My skin is blistered from the heat
I can beg and I can plead
But what I get is never what I need

[…]

Whoa whoa
I’m going down I’m going down
Whoa whoa
I’m going down I’m going down

[Transition back to the literal, the narrator in person suffering at sea. However, before returning to the chorus, Nielsen employs another sharp contrast by antithesis, which was previously reserved for the rhetoric of the narrator’s subconscious—“What I get is never what I need.” After the chorus repeats, Nielsen has blended the two aspects—his literal being and figurative guilt—of the narrator together. Because they are intrinsically interwoven, the downfall of one is the downfall of the other. Both the narrator’s ship is sinking in the literal sense, while in the figurative sense he is paying atonement for his character flaws.]

Jesus Christ, I'm alone again/So what did you do those three days you were dead?/Because this problem is going to last more than the weekend

Mon, 26 Sep 2011 10:00:05 -0400

— “Jesus Christ”

Brand New

from The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

The Archer's Bows Have Broken

Thu, 22 Sep 2011 17:08:05 -0400

Who do you carry that torch for, my young man?
Do you believe in anything?
Or do you carry it around just to burn things down?

[In keeping with the themes of the loss of faith, and subsequent search for it, “The Archer’s Bows Have Broken” observes the fine line drawn between religion and politics. Singer Jesse Lacey begins by directly addressing his audience—a new generation of youths shaped greatly by a harsh and fear-drive political climate. In doing so, he introduces a figurative idiom of initiating a crusade, “Who do you carry a torch for, my young man?” then creates a jarring juxtaposition by presenting imagery of fires and burning, giving it a palpable, physical and literal grounding.]

Meet me tonight on the turnpike my darling,
Where we believe in everything.
If we sweat all these debts then we’re sure to drown,
So let’s strap ourselves up to this engine now
With our God who we found laying under the back seat.

[This stanza once again speaks to this disillusioned youth that can relate to the downfall of the American economy and the War on Terror as its defining historical events. Imagery of the “turnpike” and strapping “ourselves up to this engine” represent the tremendous speed with which the world continues to move forward—as it threatens to leave this generation shattered in its wake. Although not created in today’s economy, the hyperbole “If we sweat all these debts, then we’re sure to drown” definitely relates to the current state of America’s fiscal affairs—debts so large that they are simply unfathomable to the common man, who thereby disregards this major societal problem, and defers it to an ineffectual government. The idea that “God” is found “laying under the back seat” may be a reference to the supposed religious affiliations of major politicians who claim their great “Mandates of Heaven” yet seemingly equivocate and act contrarily to their spiritual tenets.]

What did you learn tonight?
While shouting so loud, you barely joyous, broken thing.
You are a voice that never sings, is what i say.
You are freezing over hell
You are bringing on that end you do so well
And you can only blame yourself, is what is say.

[Once again, Lacey shifts in focus to addressing individually his specified audience. By setting a solid contrast between creating noise and creating meaningful noise, i.e., “You’re shouting so loud” versus “You’re a voice that never sings,” Lacey indicates that this generation creates a lot of noise—a simple fact of the world’s current intersection of places that used to be worlds apart through social media, but at the same time it fails to make an appropriate impact, and consequently is “bringing on the end,” and can “only blame yourself.”]

Oh, order your daughters to ignore me
Think that will sort me?
And sweep me under the rug?
While you’re beating with a book
Everyone that book tells you to love.

[Here, Lacey rails against censoring powers—record labels that don’t want what he himself wants to write; an older generation that discourages his music; a society that prefers homogenization through the mainstream. By once again using hyperbole and and giving physicality to an idiom, “sweep me under the rug,” Lacey presents himself as an infinitesimally small voice shouting out for change. The final line definitely relates to the hypocrisy of politicians, through its repetition of the word “book,” who subscribe to religion.]

There is an ember in the heart of this kiln
And it’s burning hot with love.
Burning out my center till there’s nothing but dust
Then rolling me with care into your cigarette
‘Cause the God i believe in never worked on a campaign trail.

[This relates to the physical imagery of fire earlier initiated through the idea of carrying the torch. Once again relating to Lacey’s feelings of being a tiny voice lost amid an ocean of noise, he describes the fire within him strongly as “an ember in the heart of the kiln” and “burning hot with love.” However, as strong as these emotions are, they are also destroying him from within—“burning out my center till there’s nothing but dust.” The last couplet oozes vitriol—that if society allows Lacey’s metaphorical light burn out, it will ultimately work to kill society: a figurative cigarette for society, so to speak. After skirting metaphorically around the matter, Lacey directly makes an ad hominem attack against those who claim to be God-fearing men of principle, that “the God I believe in never worked on a campaign trail.”]

Feels like we could escape,
And I don’t mind throwing away this filthy silver song,
If you try running a maze of your lies,
It’s too hard to save if you’ve thrown out everyone.

[Once again speaking to how today’s youths are misguided an lost, Lacey ends with an extended metaphor for each individual being trapped within “a maze of lies.” The first line exudes optimism for change—“feels like we could escape”— but on the condition that he joins his voice with Lacey’s to build up a voice demanding change in the world. Otherwise, if each man and woman stands alone by his own principles (“thrown out everyone”), he or she will, like Lacey, be a disparate voice lost in a sea of sounds seeking to silence him or her.]

"What did you learn tonight?/You're shouting so loud, you barely joyous, broken thing/You're a voice that never sings, is what I say"

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 10:00:05 -0400

—“The Archer’s Bows Have Broken”

Brand New

from The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

I Will Follow You into the Dark

Tue, 13 Sep 2011 10:05:06 -0400

Love of mine
Someday you will die
But I’ll be close behind
I’ll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of the spark

[In “I Will Follow You into the Dark,” singer Ben Gibbard discusses a loss of faith into religion, especially through the emphasis of death being symbolically represented by darkness and blackness, as opposed to traditional imagery of lightness and whiteness. Gibbard rejects traditional symbols of religious “heaven” in the first stanza—especially the “blinding light” and “tunnels to gates of white.”]

If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks
Then I’ll follow you into the dark

[Gibbard initiates an extended metaphor that serves to reduce the importance of both heaven and hell through the personification (If heaven and hell decide) that gives them the appearance of being distinctly human. The figurative language also likens the two to cheap motels with “No Vacancy” signs, and though through his rejection of these tenets there may be no place in either heaven or hell in the afterlife, Gibbard has spiritually accepted his fate. In doing so, he resigns himself to an eternal sense of darkness, waiting for his love—the only object in which he has placed his faith—to provide a “hint of a spark.”]

In catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me, “Son fear is the heart of love”
So I never went back

[Through this brief anecdote, Gibbard describes an important occurrence that relates to his upbringing and faith. In doing so, he also exhibits the reasoning why he refuses to submit himself to the traditional end goal of heaven—and consequently the fear of hell. The first line provides an interesting contrast—that “Roman rule” was the force that ruthlessly persecuted early Christianity as heresy, but in many ways both Christianity and the Roman rule were brutal in their views and traditions. “Bruised knuckles” work as an instance of synecdoche where the part represents Gibbard’s sentiments as a whole—his belief system rattled by the corporal punishment he found at school—doled out by a “lady in black,” presumably a nun. The turning point of his viewpoint occurs when the “lady in black” informs him that “fear is the heart of love”— that the path to heaven was marked by the principle of being God-fearing, which is quickly refuted with a jarringly short statement—“So I never went back.”]

You and me
Have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes
Are all worn down, the time for sleep is now
But it’s nothing to cry about ‘cause we’ll hold each other soon
In the blackest of rooms

[Gibbard then proceeds to make peace with his love—that they can both accept death, in the words of The Tales of Beetle the Bard, “as an old friend.” Once again, synecdoche through the “worn down soles of your shoes” represents their lives as a whole—fulfilling and meaningful, further qualified by the subsequent statement that “it’s nothing to cry about.” Once again, Gibbard reiterates his system of beliefs—essentially to be with those he loves in an eternal darkness, “the blackest of rooms.”]

“It’s just this idea that what if somebody dies and we’re just floating, just stumbling around in infinite darkness, and I’m just trying to find some kind of spiritual kind of peace with myself, and the world.”

—Ben Gibbard

"If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks/Then I'll follow you into the dark"

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 10:00:05 -0400

—“I Will Follow You into the Dark”

Death Cab for Cutie

from Plans

i cannot accurately express the intense amazement i feel while reading your interpretations of brand new songs. truly it blows my mind and i enjoy every one

Sun, 11 Sep 2011 21:12:18 -0400

Thank you, I appreciate the positive feedback—I am glad that I can share my thoughts on Brand New.

You Won't Know

Tue, 06 Sep 2011 11:21:05 -0400

Hey hey hey! Mr. Hangman
Go get your rope
Your daughters weren’t careful
I fear that I am a slippery slope
Now even if I lay my head down at night
After a day I got perfectly right
She won’t know
She won’t know
She won’t know…

[Many interpretations have been attributed as to the meaning of this song—a man exiting a marriage coupled with an abortion or singer Jesse Lacey addressing his relationship with former girlfriend Sherri DuPree (whose middle name is Kay) come to mind. However, in keeping with the idea that “Limousine (MS Rebridge)” and the story of Katie Flynn is thematically highly important and a pivotal moment to the meaning of The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me, it is my feeling that, as the track that follows “Limousine (MS Rebridge),” “You Won’t Know” is an epilogue to the story that continues to explore the manifestations of Martin Heidgen’s state of mind and the manifestations of his guilt. The opening line introduces one of the two important uses of apostrophe to invoke death, “Mr. Hangman,” as a physical being who will “go get your rope.” The somewhat euphemistic metaphor likening the narrator, Heidgen, to “a SLIPpery SLOPe,” in its alliteration shows his attempt to reconcile his actions to be less severe in his mind. However, this attempt is thwarted, exemplified by the fact that the following lines, “Now even if I lay my head down at night/After a day I got perfectly right/She won’t know,” that anything but that is true, and he is still overwhelmed by the loss of life at his hands. Once again, the concept of sleep being an exercise for those of clear conscience is explored when contrasted with the narrator’s insomnia.]

So pray little Kay, love is just God on a good day
And you can’t blame your mother
She’s trying not to see you as her worst mistake
And I wish that I could tell you right now (…I love you)
But it looks like I won’t be around
So you won’t know
You won’t know
You won’t know
You won’t know…

[This stanza brings in the second key apostrophe, where Heidgen addresses the deceased Katie as if both she and death are present with him as he battles his demons. The assonance and alliteration of the opening line—“So prAY little KAY, love is just God on a Good dAY“—is a soothingly sad lament, almost as if Heidgen is trying to console the dead. The next couplet relates well to the beginning of “Limousine (MS Rebridge)”—“K, here’s your ride,” and the ensuing emotions of regret experienced by Katie’s mother, as well as the final words of “Limousine (MS Rebridge),” where Katie speaks gratefulness that she will never “lose my baby in the crowd,” or bring her into this unjust world. Heidgen’s expression, “I wish that I could tell you right now (…I love you)” shows him embracing death, and leaving Katie both physically and spiritually (“So you won’t know”) because of his uncertainty as to what the afterlife will bring for him.]

So believe in me, believe them
You think I’ll let you down
Well I won’t
They can fire everything they’ve got
And when you think I’m sunk
I will float on and die
I am fine to put your gun to my life
And know I’m scared it won’t fire right
You won’t know
You won’t know
You won’t know…

[The repetition of “believe” and confusing nature of the beginning of this stanza highlight the narrator’s lack of confidence in what to believe, leading to the confrontational question, “You think I’ll let you down?” The narrator is engaging in self-motivation to convince himself that the only way that he can rectify his sins is to die by his own hand. Others may wish him dead (“They can fire everything they got”) but Heidgen has resolved to only die by his own doing (“I am fine to put your gun to my life”), then further exemplified by his sentiments that his fears are not of death, but that this metaphorical gun “won’t fire right.” Once again, like in “Sudden Death in Carolina,” the imagery of guns and triggers are meant to denote control, which is no longer in the narrator’s hands.]

You’re never going to feel as full as you felt
So let’s go outside and we’ll play William Tell
Take your time drawing a bead
I’ll stand as still as you need
‘Cause you’re so good at talking smack
You heart attack
But you’re the apple of my eye anyway
My smiling face that’s on my head is on a silver plate.

[Once again the narrator’s tone is apologetic and calming in his alliteration and assonance “You’re never going to Feel as Full as you Felt,” and although he is addressing Katie, he is also describing his own state of mind due to the crippling sense of remorse that permeates his conscience. Lacey then introduces a complex metaphor through his apostrophe of Katie, as the two resign themselves to “play William Tell.” William Tell, a Swiss folk hero, was forced to successfully make an “apple-shot”—to shoot an apple of the head of his son, otherwise both would be executed, which he accomplished. Hardly a game, as Heidgen euphemistically references the act as playing William Tell, this shows his resignation and acceptance of whatever death brings him, now that he has placed this metaphorical weapon of fate in the hands of Katie. The other meaning could be that they will literally play “William Tell Overture” from Gioachino Rossini’s “William Tell,” which is appropriately segmented into four distinct parts: “Prelude, Dawn” is representative of the better days in Heidgen’s life; “The Storm” is his descent into alcoholism and moral depravity, which culminates in intensity to the freeway car crash; “Ranz des Vaches” is the quiet after the storm, where he is forced to reconcile his very existence; and “Finale” is the epic and triumphant, in his eyes, march to death that will remedy his ills. “You’re the apple of my eye, anyway” returns to both the “apple-shot,” as well as the idiom that links well to Heidgen’s invocation of Katie in “Limousine (MS Rebridge)” as a “beauty supreme.” The inverted syntax of the final line gives the pretense of happiness yet is jarringly just the opposite—this line bears a striking resemblance to Jennifer’s line in “Limousine (MS Rebridge), “Her head in my hands and smiling.” Almost as if Heidgen now subscribes to Hammurabi’s Code of justice, he wishes to pay for his crimes appropriately with regard to what Katie suffered. The fact that his head is “on a plate” may acknowledge his realization that this now-present apparition of the dead still harbors resentment to the life that she will never have.]

So they say,
They say in heaven
There’s no husbands and wives
On the day that I show up
They’ll be completely out
Of their forgiveness supplies
And I can’t use the telephone
To tell you that I’m dead and gone
So you won’t know
You won’t know
You won’t know
Yeah, You won’t know…

[There is biblical backing that there are neither husbands nor wives in heaven. In “Limousine (MS Rebridge),” Jennifer bitterly remarks, “We have found your man/He’s drinking up/He’s all-American, and he’ll drive,” to describe that this is the man that will be forever linked to Katie, and she will never be a bride. Heidgen acknowledges his wrongs, as well as the fact that, in another instance of him giving physical weight to something otherworldly/spiritual (“forgiveness supplies”), there may not be a heaven for him after death. He also rues the fact that although his death may be the only thing that brings closure to Katie’s, she may never know because he will never reach her. Once again, the narrator can only think in worldly terms, “I can’t use the telephone,” which returns to the seemingly disparate ending to Jennifer’s speech in “Limousine (MS Rebridge)” that mourns “Her signal was interrupted/My baby’s frequency not strong enough.” As with the two previous stanzas (for the third time), the narrator ends with three repetitions of “You won’t know,” which is symbolic with regards to the “Rule of Three”—that whatever positive or negative energy one puts into the world is thrice reciprocated upon him, and now Heidgen is appropriately suffering for his transgressions.]

They say in Heaven there's no husbands and wives/On the day that I show up, they'll be completely out of their forgiveness supplies

Mon, 05 Sep 2011 11:00:51 -0400

—“You Won’t Know”

Brand New

from The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

Limousine (MS Rebridge)

Tue, 30 Aug 2011 10:10:06 -0400

K, here’s your ride
Get your petals out and lay them in the aisle
Pretend you are God, and grow
And that it’s your own day to wed
We have found your man
He is drinking up
He’s all-American, and he’ll drive
He has volunteered with grace to end your life
We’ll tidy up
It’s sad to hold, but leave your shell to us
You explode, you firefly, you tiny boat with oars
Feather oars
The world tilts back and pours and pours
And so, you satellite, you tidal wave
You’re a big surprise
And I have one more night to be your mother
Her signal was interrupted
My baby’s frequency not strong enough
Her head in my hands and smiling
K, we will miss you but in time you’ll get set up
And we will write

[This is arguably Brand New’s most powerful song. First, some background information: On July 2, 2005, flower girl Katie Flynn, 7, was returning with her family from her aunt’s wedding in Long Island, when a drunk driver, Martin Heidgen, smashed headfirst into the Flynns’ limousine while driving the wrong way on the highway. Both the chauffeur and Katie were killed instantly, and other family members sustained injuries ranging from minor to critical. The full story can be found here. Singer Jesse Lacey truly showcases his strengths as both a lyricist and narrator, switching in narrative voice between Jennifer Flynn, Katie Flynn, and Martin Heidgen, and also controlling the tempo and intensity of the song. In the first stanza, Lacey assumes the voice of Jennifer Flynn, Katie’s mother. The words are rife with euphemisms and lull the audience into a sense of security, which makes sense because she is basically addressing her dead daughter. The alliteration of “Pretend you are God and Grow/and that it is your day to wed” is used to gently lament the fact that Katie’s life is cut tragically short, and she will never enjoy these experiences. There is biting sarcasm and irony in the line “We have found your man/He is drinking up” that Heidgen, not a future husband, will be the man with whom Katie is eternally connected. “He’s all-American” exhibits criticism of the social climate and the culture of alcoholism that is the cause of deaths related to drinking and driving. Another euphemistic reference to Heidgen, that he has “volunteered with grace to end your life” starkly contrasts (hopefully) Heidgen’s lack of malicious intent that ended in tragedy regardless. “We’ll tidy up/It’s sad to hold, but leave your shell to us” is another euphemistic couplet that references the grisly details of the accident—where Jennifer held Katie’s disembodied head until rescue workers came. Essentially, she is hoping that Katie’s soul has moved on despite the irreparable damage done to her physical body. The metaphor comparing Katie to “a firefly” is quite simply, perfect. Fireflies are fleeting images of summer, and the time in which Katie could shine her youthful light upon the world was cut horribly short. The imagery of sailing evokes the ideas of Greek mythology where a soul would have to cross the River Styx to reach the afterlife, and sailing off into the sunset to meet death. Gruesomely, “the world tilts back and pours and pours” through its repetition of “pours” might exemplify the bloodiness of the scene. The references to “satellite,” “tidal wave,” and “big surprise” may be used to indicate that Katie will have a bigger impact on the world than she could have ever possibly imagined. The stanza is brought to a haunting close with “I have one more night to be your mother.” Following this, the musical and lyrical climax occurs as Lacey gets his loudest. The description of Katie using words such as “signal” and “frequency” seems out of place, but links well with the previous metaphor linking the child to a satellite, perpetually gazing down upon the Earth, yet ultimately severed from it. ”Her head in my hands smiling” out of context seems so innocuous, but is truly a horrific image when the fact of the matter is that it is only Katie’s head. Another comforting couplet spoken by Jennifer, whose words contrast with Lacey’s screaming, imagines Katie in a better place, and serves as a method of self-comforting.]

Hey, you beauty supreme
Yeah, you were right about me
But can I get myself out from underneath
This guilt that will crush me
In the choir, I saw our sad Messiah
He was bored and tired of my laments
He said, “I died for you one time, but never again”
Well I love you so much, but do me a favor baby and don’t reply
‘Cause I can dish it out, but I can’t take it
1234567

[The intensity of the song climaxes, and the narrator shifts to Martin Heidgen. Despite reports from the court stating that Heidgen “showed no emotion,” Lacey imagines the convicted man to be undergoing an intense internal struggle, and in many ways assumes Heidgen’s conflict, literally with the Devil and God raging inside of him, only on a broader scale. Lacey gives palpable weight and physicality to this pervasive sense of guilt, “the guilt that will crush me.” The alliteration of the line “I Saw our Sad MeSSiah” lulls the listener in, and indicates how easily people have become jaded and subsequently given in to their vices. Thematically, Heidgen (and Lacey) addressing Jesus fits thematically with the album, in the loss of, and consequent search for, faith. Specifically, Jesus rejects his sacrifice for humanity seeing what happened to Katie, but Lacey uses this as a overarching criticism of a largely broken society as a whole, in which this sad instance is only a microcosm. The final two lines are sung in repetition, except each time after the first, the word “well” is replaced sequentially with the numbers one through seven, and could be spoken by either Martin—that he could complete his actions, but can’t bear (or even fathom) the consequences. Another theory, courtesy of Japes, holds that the entire section that I attributed to Martin is, in fact, being spoken by a remorseful Devil figure who is even upset by taking such a young life. However, this does not explain the speech directed towards “Our Messiah” because Jesus died for the sins of humanity. The count to seven has many symbolic meanings— Katie’s age, the seven deadly sins (as a broader denouncement of society), and completeness/perfection (as in the seven days it took God to come full circle, like in death, and construct the world).]

I’ll never have to buy adjacent plots of earth
We’ll never have to rot together underneath dirt
I’ll never have to lose my baby in the crowd
I should be laughing right now.

[Ironically, in death, these four short lines embody the voice of Katie as grateful for the events that transpired. Essentially, she serves as a conduit for Lacey to say that this is no world to raise a child, and, in her life ending, she will never know or understand a variety of other pains and sufferings that plague people as they grow and age. As explored earlier, Jennifer is imagining Katie’s wedding day that will never arrive, conversely Katie will never have to experience losing a spouse, euphemistically referenced as buying “adjacent plots of earth,” then explicated somewhat harshly—and literally— in the next line as rotting “together underneath dirt.” She will never have to worry about the moral decay that consumed her doing the same to her own child, who would be lost “in the crowd,” i.e., fallen prey to a culture of depravity, and consequently she “should be laughing right now.”]

"In the choir, I saw our sad Messiah/He was bored and tired of my laments/He said, 'I died for you one time, but never again.'"

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 10:00:05 -0400

—“Limousine (MS Rebridge)”

Brand New

from The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

also, i really enjoy reading your interpretations, I definitely had the same idea but you really broke it down and dissected every lyric to it's full potential. this really helps me understand more and just love Brand New even more now. thank you sooooo much

Sat, 27 Aug 2011 20:40:34 -0400

for the positive feedback.

awesome blog. thanks

Sat, 27 Aug 2011 20:40:17 -0400

Thank you

Good to Know That If I Ever Need Attention All I Have to Do Is Die

Mon, 22 Aug 2011 10:00:05 -0400

Am I correct to defend the fist that holds this pen?
It’s ink that lies, the pen, the page, the paper
I live, I learn you will always take what I have earned
And so aid my end while I believe I’m winning.

[Interesting word choice to utilize the phrase, “the fist that holds this pen”— as if metaphorically Jesse Lacey’s words are his best, and most potent, weapon to, as he later puts it, “Speak my mind whenever I feel slighted/I am hellbent on exacting all of my revenge.” The initially slow pacing of the song provides senses of tension and unease that build to the explosion of the chorus. In using the alliterative effect, the listener is almost lulled into Lacey’s cold, calculating words before his tone shifts and his emotions truly flow. Examples of this alliteration are seen in the phrases, “the Pen, the Page, the Paper”; “I Live, I Learn, you wiLL aLways”; “anD so aiD my enD.” This song resonates in content to “I Will Play My Game Beneath the Spin Light” in the sense that Lacey is questioning his self worth, and his purpose in a life that he deems meaningless, but “Good to Know” also serves as a pointed indictment of an oppressive music industry that seeks to stifle his creativity. The use of the rhetorical question and the subsequent personification that “it’s the ink that lies, the pen, the page, the paper” sounds with a sense of bitterness in its caustic sarcasm that is summarized in the end of the stanza— “aid my end while I believe I’m winning.”

Our friends speak out in our defense
Pay ten deaf ears for two months rent
We burn the gallows they erect
And cut the nooses they tie for our necks.

[When coupled with the intial line, “Am I correct to defend the fist that holds this pen?” the first line of this stanza evokes the imagery of a trial of the band for attacking the conformity of the musical scene that is, ahem, largely already heard—deja entendu. There arises a sincere conflict because of this that is highlighted by the utilization of synecdoche— ten deaf ears is personified (to be “paid”) and are used as a part to represent the whole of record labels and their associated personalities. The band can either essentially “sell out” (and thereby “pay” these “deaf ears”) and continue to live life in the present manner, or otherwise risk (by hyperbole) a death sentence to its musical career. However, there is also irony present in the final lines of both the two first stanzas—by stating “aid my end while I believe I’m winning” and “we burn the gallows they erect/and cut the nooses they tie for our necks” Lacey gives the appearance that the band has a decision to make—either to give in or not— but by indicating that he knows the system can be defeated, the only way to go is to keep making music his way.]

You constantly make it impossible to make conversation
We’re comatose but audible
But I liked it the farther I get out
We passed it off, but it’s all on us
Well common conversation, it took everything I got
And I liked it the farther I get out

[By switching to addressing an undetermined “you,” an ad hominem attack is utilized against essentially anyone who seeks to extinguish originality in favor of banality and the status quo. The chorus is very much so an outpouring of feelings, a torrent of words that fights against the tide of the forces that are attempting to prevent Brand New from making something that is truly jamais entendu—never heard. “We’re comatose but audible” certainly appearing paradoxical, is the focal point of Lacey’s argument, that there is no artistry in the creation of his compositions if it is dictated by the willpower of another, and in there lies sense in the nonsense of the contradiction— to be heard you have to be a mindless vegetable of the system. This idea is immediately qualified by the following line that “I liked it the farther I get out.” Next, there is assumption of blame that “we passed it off, but it’s all on us”—that following this relentless dogma of resignation was a self-destructive act to both the band and anyone around it.]

Once said always said
I will hold the past over your head
I’ll speak my mind whenever I feel slighted
I am hellbent on extracting all of my revenge
So take heart, sweetheart
Or I will take it from you

[“Once said, always said” sounds a whole lot like the principle of deja vu or deja entendu, especially in its repetitive use of “said,” essentially all the music out there is already seen, already heard. Although the initial chorus may have been the climax in its power and raw passion, the falling action, in its return to the cold, calculating tone, is equally moving in its resolution to always honor the truth and the way that things should be done—“I’ll speak my mind whenever I feel slighted/I am hellbent on extracting all of my revenge”— pretty badass. The final couplet is as good as any to represent Lacey’s sentiments—to his loves, the world, etc.— and is chillingly acerbic. “Take heart, sweetheart, or I will take it from you”— once again the use of repetition (in this instance, “heart”) seems innocuous enough, but is another biting criticism—that this is the way the band will be, and nothing will change that.]

I slip concealed back to the keep
Concede to do the work for free
We prey as wolves among the sheep
And slit the necks of soldiers while they sleep.

[A dictionary search of the word “keep” as a noun unveils the meaning to be “the innermost and strongest structure or central tower of a medieval castle.” This somewhat violent metaphor and double-entendre once again wraps up nicely Lacey’s perception of the situation. On the surface, the initial couplet “I slip concealed back to the keep/Concede to do the work for free” is like the untitled narrator in Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man slipping back into anonymity that proves to ultimately not be a social hindrance. By returning to his roots, he realizes that making meaningful music was the primary concern, as money was, and never should have been, the ultimate object. However, the secondary, more morbid interpretation is that, figuratively, Lacey is stealing away, under the radar because of his refusal to accommodate “the mold,” to kill those who encourage the demise of meaningful music in the place they believe themselves to be safest— for free, of course. This of course relates to the idiom to be “a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” an apparently harmless individual who nonetheless provides great danger to the system. Lacey is a wolf, sly and strong, and out for the blood of the sheep, innocent, and hopelessly fettered to its pack mentality. Lacey contrasts this with the end line, likening these people to “soldiers,” a distinct departure from being “sheep.” However, this may be to exhibit that these record label bosses submit to a certain degree of universal compliance, yet will also fight vigorously to defend the present state of affairs.]

Where Have You Been?

Mon, 15 Aug 2011 10:00:06 -0400

They call holidays an option for a reason
I hear you’re coming back to life just for the fourth
I’ve been catching all your ghosts for every season
I pray to God you won’t come back here anymore.

[Many thematic parallels have been drawn between Manchester Orchestra’s I’m Like a Virgin Losing a Child and Brand New’s The Devil and God Are Raging Inside of Me. Both deal with internal struggles between good and evil, as well as the philosophical and spiritual search for God. In this song, I see singer Andy Hull questioning God, a divine “father” over the absence of his actual father. Holidays, often times for celebrating both familial ties and important religious events in history, serve as an ideal vehicle for Hull to exemplify the role that his biological father failed to play in his life. “I hear you’re coming back to life just for the fourth” struck me as a double-entendre—his father is present in body but not mind for Hull on the Fourth of July (or possibly Thanksgiving— the fourth Thursday in November), but, in a parallel to his existence he is “a day late, and a dollar short.” Whereas according to the Bible, Jesus arose on the third day from the dead, Hull’s father only manages to stir “for the fourth.” The next couplet introduces the recurring theme of Hull’s search for his father—in his loss for a physical figure, he feels abandoned by the religious one.]

Do you pray with him, too?
They should deliver all my blessings in small brown paper handbags near the porch
I wished I’d known that you were bleeding while I sat and watched you reading with the lord
I read with him, too.

[The circular nature of these lines, ending the first line and last line with “too” provides a poetic example of Hull’s failing search for a father that ultimately goes nowhere, and returns him to where he started. There appears to be a degree of bitterness to exemplify Hull’s relationship—his use of a euphemism for alcohol, “blessings in small brown paper handbags,” adds to the questioning nature of the preceding line with regards to his father’s faith— “Do you pray with him, too?” However, the couplet that follows eases off the undertones of resentment upon the later realization, denoted by Hull’s transition to a jarring verb of the pluperfect tense (“I wished I’d”), that his father was suffering as well, despite being oblivious to his son’s plight.]

When you look at me
I’ll be digesting your legs
‘Cause I can hardly see
What’s in front of me these days
And those days, too.

[The idea from the previous lines continues here—Hull’s verb use (“I can hardly see”) is in the present tense, but he is also referencing visions of the immediate time, as well as the past, indicating that because of this overarching sense of uncertainty, he is stuck in a spiritual rut. “I’ll be digesting your legs” is perhaps the most enigmatic line of the entire song, even by Hull’s standards. In keeping with the religious context of the song, this could mean that Hull has taken the Communion (in the Catholic Church via transubstantiation becoming the Body of Christ, i.e., his “legs”) but is not truly sure where his faith lies. Eucharist is literally meant to be “soul food;” nourishment that supplements a believer’s spiritual growth, which was stunted by Hull’s father. However, other listeners maintain that this line is simply a non-sequitur on Hull’s part that stems from a bizarre dream that he had (and oddly felt compelled to incorporate into a song) as explained by him during live sets.]

I’ve got to take what I’m making
And turn it into something
I’ve got to take what i’m making
And turn it into something
For you
I’ve got to break what I’m making
And turn it into something
I’ve got to break what I’m making
And turn it into something
For you.

[The powerful climax of the song addresses both fathers. I believe the repetition and parallel syntax of “I’ve got to take what I’m making/And turn it into something” refers to God, and that despite Hull’s disillusionment, he needs to show resolve through his faith and turn this into something positive. However, this is sharply contrasted by his address to his father, “I’ve got to break what I’m making/And turn it into something”— that he needs emotional severance from the toxic and unrequited relationship with his worldly paternal figure in order to live the physical, spiritual, and emotional life that he seeks.]

God, where have you been?
God, oh God, where have you been?
God, my God, my God, where have you been?

[The untying of the events that built up to this moment once again highlight Hull’s despondency, as purported by the actions of his father, and the consequent inaction on God’s part by way of rectifying his suffering.]

Girl with Broken Wings

Mon, 08 Aug 2011 10:00:05 -0400

On the porch she will sit
Light another cigarette
And take a sip of anything that makes it right.
She’s outside trying to hide from the fight just inside
Where her mom and her dad destroy each other
And on the phone she will call
Every boy, yeah, one and all.
They will touch her in all the right places.

[Singer Andy Hull initiates the exposition of his narrative with the introduction of his nameless female character. Because the woman lacks a definite identity, her story is applicable on a broad level, while also serving to further the tragedy of the story. The euphemistic nature of this beginning, highlighted by the reference to various forms of alcohol as “anything that makes it right” denotes that this, sadly, is not a unique occurrence. However, the persistent use of the future tense for verbs throughout the song may indicate that, when coupled with the undistinguished heroine, although the situation that people like her are in is dire, the right help may save their lives. The assonance of the -ide sound “she’s outside trying to hide from the fight just inside” is discordant in the strong nature of its sounds when repeated and serves to both highlight the beginning of this breakdown, as well as the distinct feelings of exclusion vs. inclusion and alienation vs. acceptance. The inverted syntax, used twice in this stanza (“On the porch she will sit” and “On the phone she will call”) both qualify the confusing backwardness of this woman’s life, which calls into question whether “every boy” really does “touch her in all the right places.”]

And in her room, she will slide
Down the bed and try to fly
And she will fall once again for the feeling
And as he grabs her brown hair
She is faking
That the feeling he gives her is real
As the floor underneath the bed is
Breaking
She will finish what she starts with “I love you.”

[This stanza brings rising action, along with the first imagery of flight, evoking the ideas of freedom and escapism. Similarly, imagery is detailed that the woman is hopelessly propped up by this emotional high, yet to her dismay, her world is beginning to unfurl and fall apart. Her hope that being “touched in all the right places” will ease her emotional turmoil is in vain, as she finds herself “faking that the feeling he gives her is real.” Like many works of literature, sleep and the bed are representative of things that bring peace to those who are comfortable with themselves and their lives. But to those who feel guilty or uncomfortable with their identities, sleep and the bed provide just the opposite.]

So from her head to her toes
Nervous hands and runny nose
All of this just for one night of feeling
And in her ears she will hear
All the things that hide her fears
Of dying young and making plans for the future.

[The action continues to rise, as this section is rife with synecdoche as the disparate elements of this woman’s body call into question the meaning of her existence. “Nervous hands and runny nose” are representative of the fear and uncertainty, and the tears that the weight the emotional toll takes upon her. The assonance of the -ear sound— “And in her ears she will hear all the things that hide her fears” rolls effortlessly, exemplifying how quickly everything falls apart for her, leading right into the subsequent, almost paradoxical statement, that her fear is “of dying young and making plans for the future,” while it seems that one cannot have the first without losing the second.]

And all the marks on her arms
Symbolize a fractured heart
And all the boys that were smart
Left her alone
So from the roof she will fly
15 feet down the side
Of the house where she once was happy

[The climax of the story is reached. Once again, the part represents a specific whole through Hull’s selection of detail, this time “the marks on her arms” representing the “fractured heart.” I think the following couplet is almost bitingly sarcastic, and simultaneously a plea for help— the right person in this woman’s life could have changed everything yet seemingly “all the boys that were smart left her alone.” This idea returns to the continuing use of the future tense, that this woman does not need an concrete identity because she is a mold that is distressingly prevalent throughout society, and it takes one positive relationship to save pull her away from the edge. The inverted syntax once again highlights the twisted nature of the woman’s action, accentuated by the euphemism to “fly” rather than to “fall,” but in many ways this was the only way to attain ultimate freedom.]

Yes it’s true she’s aware
That she is breaking
And it’s true, she can’t do anything
Well in her blue underwear
She is thinking how
In Jesus’ precious name
She got here
Well it’s sad but it’s true
She is ending
But for now, she will pray for some wings
On a black cadillac she is landing hard
Yet her parents’ biggest worry is the car.

[The repetition and parallel structure that cascades in a series of realizations (highlighted by the phrase “it’s true”) serve show a bitter sense of irony and regret. I found the irony to be most jarring in the couplet that as the woman is falling, she somewhat humorously notes that “it’s true, she can’t do anything well in her blue underwear. The falling action literally involves her falling, and is overwhelmed by the sense of regret that causes her to truly “pray for some wings” that will, this time around, save her life, rather than providing an outlet for escape through ending it, but it’s already too late. The denouement occurs abruptly and once again stressed by its inverted syntax. Hull powerfully ends the narrative with a powerful and viciously caustic couplet that in this broken home, “her parents’ biggest worry is the car.”]

Hey, I thoroughly enjoy your explorations of the Brand New songs - fantastic reading - so keep up the good work! I was wondering whether you would write something similar for Manchester Orchestra? I place them on the same par as Brand New - would love to read your insight into songs such as Where Have you Been? and I can Barely Breathe - Thanks :)

Mon, 08 Aug 2011 01:27:00 -0400

Surely, and thanks for the feedback! The next piece I am working on actually is “Girl with Broken Wings” by Manchester Orchestra, and I will try to work on either “Where Have You Been?” or “I Can Barely Breathe” next.

The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

Mon, 01 Aug 2011 10:00:05 -0400

We saw the western coast
I saw the hospital
Nurse the shoreline like a wound
Reports of lovers’ trysts
Were neither clear nor descript
We kept it safe and slow
The quiet things that no one ever knows

[Brand New singer Jesse Lacey has undeniably strong ties to his hometown of Levittown, New York. By creating a contrasting setting for his protagonist and his lover on “the western coast,” he initiates the sense of a want to keep from the prying eyes of friends and family. Similar to the use of a story to demonstrate an idea as in “Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis,” I believe that Lacey utilizes a very specific story to illustrate general feelings of a loss of love in a romance. The personification that the hospital nurses the shoreline like a wound simultaneously makes sense yet is jarring in its unexpected nature. The fact that this hospital is nurturing the shoreline— the narrator’s place of escape— “like a wound” indicates that this relationship is volatile. “Reports of lovers’ trysts”— the views of those that the narrator seeks to keep this relationship hidden from is subsequently contrasted by a sense of relief that they were “neither clear nor descript.” “Tryst” is perhaps the best possible word to indicate this secret meeting between lovers that strove to maintain their status as “a quiet thing that no one ever knows.” Whether this hospital is possibly being visited by the veiled couple for either an abortion or a birth of a child is open to interpretation.]

So keep the blood in your head
And keep your feet on the ground
If today’s the day it gets tired
Then today’s the day we drop out
Gave up my body and bed
All for an empty hotel
Wasting my words on lower cases and capitals.

[The reasoning of the narrator to follow through with this relationship comes afterwards. The repetition of “keep” indicates a sense of control and the need to stay grounded. In a conciliatory manner, he agrees with himself that “if today’s the day it gets tired/then today’s the day we drop out,” but with so much sacrifice already made— “gave up my body and bed” (i.e., a sense of home and security) “all for an empty hotel”— a life on the move out of the eye of unwanted scrutiny, which he cannot bring himself to talk with his lover about. Therefore he is “wasting my words on lower cases and capitals,” or putting his feelings in writing instead of direct contact.]

I contemplate the day we wed
Your friends are boring me to death
Your veil is ruined in the rain
By then it’s you I can do you without
There’s nothing new to talk about
And though our kids are blessed
Their parents let them shoulder all the blame

[In this stream of consciousness, the narrator considers “the day we wed,” possibly out of wedlock or otherwise simply as an extension of the situation. The fact that “your friends are boring me to death” indicates an inability for the relationship to work in the long-term and foreshadowing towards its failure. The hypothetical marriage occurring on a stormy day reflects the nature of marriage. Through the alliterative effect of the line “veil is Ruined in the Rain,” indicates the ease in which everything has fallen apart. The rain ruining the veil, which is traditionally white and used in wedding ceremonies to signify both spiritual and physical virginity, qualifies the sense of lost innocence that perhaps fueled this connection between lovers that is now being tested by the tempest. The narrator at this point has recognized this irreconcilable fact that the affair is doomed— “there’s nothing new to talk about.” However, the true tragedy lies in the protagonists recognition that the ultimate victims of this split will be neither him nor his lover, but his children whom he is bringing into the world. There is an interesting switch in the subject from the personal “our kids” to the impersonal “their parents” (as opposed to “we let them shoulder all the blame”). This may denote that, unfortunately, this is not a unique situation, but the truth of many relationships spurred on by pure passion.]

I lie for only you. And I lie well….hallelu

[This is the powerful, and very haunting, climax of the song. The dual meaning of “lie,” that the narrator physically lies (with his body) for the lover and the narrator lies to his lover about the future of this relationship is furthered immediately by the repetition of “lie”— “I lie well.” The fact that the entire word “hallelujah” (meaning “God be praised” or an exclamation of rejoicing) is never completely said reflects the fact that faith and hope has been lost between the two.]