As she listens very carefully to a room of conversation
She can feel the planet orbiting through space
She hears pieces of arguments, beginnings of jokes
And the odd lines of a song she cannot place
And it all makes up an image that resists interpretation
Which is lately how she likes to see herself
How she does not believe in accidents, doesn't disagree out loud
And falls in love with every man she cannot help
And she thinks, "Most people don't talk enough about how lucky they are
Most people don't know what it takes for me to get through the day
Most people don't talk enough about the love in their hearts"
But she doesn't know most people feel the same way
If she focuses her energies on just walking through the neighborhood
With depths and shallows nobody could sound
Like January Christmas lights under billion-year-old stars
She comes up with more of what is lost than what is found
And so by the time that she explains to me just a glimpse of what she's understood
She betrays the meaning putting it in words
So she smiles at me lovingly and says, "Just let me hold your hand
So far, it's the only way I can let myself be heard"
~ Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes)
Debbie Downer here with your daily lyric fix. I'm blaming the weather. There is, literally, a dark cloud over my head and over the heads of everyone around. Dismal. Word of the week. There's a rumor of sun on Thursday.
When Dawes appeared on the scene a few years ago, with help from Jackson Browne, I found them to be so refreshing. Yes, they sound great, especially live. But Taylor Goldsmith is a lyricist in the vein of Jackson, and in my opinion, that is more a rarity than a norm in today's music. So many times, I hear a song that I love, and I consider it for this blog. Then I read the lyrics and they make no sense. That song gets crossed off my list unless there's some other compelling reason to post it.
Stories Don't End is Dawes' third studio album, released in 2013. That title is a common theme throughout the album. Our stories, our relationships with others, once begun, don't end. Our lives are not a neat beginning-middle-end plotline. In "Most People," Goldsmith (according to Rolling Stone) "digs with breezy introspection into the insights of a complicated woman living in a broken paradise." Rolling Stone goes on to suggest that he might be telling the story to a friend at a bar and be able to reveal the same "message of frustration, attraction, and passion" that the song suggests. I would love to be the friend at the bar with Goldsmith.
To my way of thinking, a good lyricist is also a good poet. And by that, I don't mean that he/she is able to rhyme "space" with "place" or "sound" with "found" or "orange" with "door-hinge." (And you thought there was no word to rhyme with "orange"!!) Rhyme has little to do with being a good poet. Although rhyme can make songs more lyrical, more often than not, rhyme is a liability rather than an asset.
But contemplate this line:
Like January Christmas lights under billion-year-old stars
She comes up with more of what is lost than what is found
That line is awesome! It has implied color, it has imagery, it has contrast, and it forces you to make a connection. What is lost? What is it that we are hoping to find? And once you get that far, you have to wonder, "What is the point of this living?" The answer isn't there, but that isn't the point of the question.
The pivotal idea of the song is that most people feel the same way. We are all wounded birds, trying to navigate our way through pain and sorrow and the elusive moments of joy that inspire us to keep going. When the woman temporarily abandons her introspective search for the meaning of life, she asks for the simple comfort of human touch. And there's the answer, at least for the moment.
I hope you find your moments on this otherwise dismal day.
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