Do lyrics actually matter?

if I didn't know better I'd swear I wrote all of that. couldn't agree with you more.

the only lyricists that I feel go above and beyond, whose words actually play a more central role than the sound of their words, are scott walker, leonard cohen and amanda palmer.

Welcome to the club, Mark.

yeah, well, bad lyrics can fuck up a song real fucking quick though.

(Ned will be along shortly, I suppose.)

kinda like
bad lyricspost can fuck up a songthread real fucking quick though.

Astute point, my error-prone friend.

yeah, well, bad lyrics can fuck up a song real fucking quick though

hmm I'm not so sure. Examples please? I'm trying to think of songs where the music is really good but the song is totally ruined because of the lyrics. It's hard, because like I said, if the music is so good my attention is hardly ever drawn to the lyrics. It's only when the music tends to be bad/mediocre/not worthy of much attention that I then notice crappy lyrics.

Take Radiohead, as I mentioned in my post. Like a lot of people do, I tend to think Yorke's lyrics can be pretty silly. But I tend to think their music, for the most part, is pretty interesting and thus I'm not really drawn to noticing how silly the lyrics really are. (Most of the time you can't even understand what Yorke's saying). In a bad Radiohead song, say, "Sit Down Stand up," the lyrics are pretty lousy but I'm only drawn to notice them because the song itself is kind of lousy. I'd say this is really the case for most songs where the lyrics are so bad they "ruin" the song.

m the g, you're a Cardiacs fan aren'cha? Tim Smith's lyrics, with their indecipherable meanings and poetic flow, further mystify and deepen the experience, IMO.

Do drums actually matter?
Do guitars actually matter?
Do keyboards actually matter?
Do brass sections actually matter?

For example, how about that middle part in "Buddy Holly" (Weezer). The lyrics are so bad that it really does mess up at least that part of the song.

(x-post)

Do drums actually matter?
Do guitars actually matter?
Do keyboards actually matter?
Do brass sections actually matter?

Not quite sure what you mean by this. I was talking about lyrical content vs. sonic content. I don't see lyrical content as really analogous to anything listed there, which all seem to part of the sonic content.

*be

yea i get it. um i think they matter because lyrics are sonic

saying THAT versus THIS sounds different. so even if ur trying to extrapolate the sonic from the lyric, u can't REALLY. for instance even if you don't know what the word is, u can still think the sound "aaa" sounds good within the instrumentation.

also if i KNEW the singer was saying something really stupid cuz of the lyric sheet, i wouldn't be abl eto like the song as much

saying THAT versus THIS sounds different. so even if ur trying to extrapolate the sonic from the lyric, u can't REALLY. for instance even if you don't know what the word is, u can still think the sound "aaa" sounds good within the instrumentation.

yea that's interesting, guess it's true -- maybe ties in a lot with delivery, too, i.e. the interesting sonic part of how artist x delivers a certain lyric depends on the content of that lyric

yuppers

i must say i do feel a bit disappointed when i can't understand the lyrics, after like a few listens.

The level of the vocals

(Ned will be along shortly, I suppose.)

Hi dere.

Some things definitely OTM:
I don’t give a flying fuck about the lyrics if the music works. but also But sometimes some of the really most amazing moments of a song’s words burrow in deep because for me they really are great. I can’t put my finger on what makes a truly great or memorable lyric any more than I can define a great or memorable song — and the two elements need not always be in sync, that greatness for both, for me to enjoy the song.

Thanks for that, Ned, I really enjoyed the essay.

Yer welcome.

I don't know how anyone could deny that their favorite songs would cease to be their favorite songs if the original lyrics were switched with shit about carpet cleaning and rotting vegetables.

Sounds like most Pixies songs to me!

My position is still: all I demand of the lyrics is that they not ruin the song for me (one way or another). But that doesn't mean I don't sometimes appreciate lyrics that do more than just not ruin the song.

Two of my favorite lyricists are Joni Mitchell and Stephen Malkmus. I don't always know or care what exactly they're singing about, but I like their playful use of language. I like being able to sing along with poetic phrases like "wreck my stockings in some jukebox dive" or "blind date with a chancer, we had oysters and dry lancers." I like that they care about words and the sounds of words, even I never stop to think about the overarching meaning of their songs.

"blind date with a chancer, we had oysters and dry lancers."

Funny, just reading that made me remember the entire lyrics to that song and I was thus able to hear the whole thing in my head, thanks! Like I mentioned, I like Malkmus's lyrics too.

SOMETIMES

lock thread

Yeah, occassionally I feel like a bad music reviewer for not trying harder to "get" what the lyrics are about, but fuck it— it's rare that I care what the lyrics are about. I like turns of phrases and moments, but I think that looking for a coherent narrative in a pop song too often takes me out of the "now" that I'd like to be in while I enjoy the music.

Country and folk music, however, I tend to feel do better at narrative threads.

SO i just recorded this great thing, and now i'm worried u can't UNDERSTAND WAT I"M SAYING, and that is so argh annoying!

THANKS

Depends. I find Bright Eyes lyrics insufferable. I find Iron & Wine's lyrics moving. I don't pay attention to Journey's lyrics.

I'm trying to imagine some of my favorite Smiths songs if they had shitty lyrics.

Lyrics don't matter to me, really. I mean, once I get into a song and I realise the lyrics are great, it may bring a new dimension to the song, but if I dislike the melody great lyrics aren't enough for me to like the song. Not to mention the opposite way: A great melody with some incredibly stupid lyrics I will still enjoy because of the melody.

I'm trying to imagine some of my favorite Smiths songs if they had shitty lyrics.

it's all about CADENCE

Not totally. Morrissey's cadences sometimes suggest that he's singing something witty. If what he was singing was actually banal it would wreck the song (for me at least.) That's not to say these are folk songs, the music and the voice would be pleasant to listen to regardless.

I think Curtis has something with the cadence thing, I'd say the same about Lloyd Cole. His lyrics are brilliant, but they're rendered *genius* the way he delivers them.

Lyrics are pretty important to me. I love to work them out, where relevant, I love to know what they are. I'll often favour a song for its content if that fits my mood or I want to express something.

That said, that isnt always the case, I mean the Cocteau Twins are my favourite band and with Liz it is all about delivery, not the words themselves - even when they're a known quantity it doesnt matter much.

Artists I do love lyrically: aforementioned Lloyd Cole, theThe, Depeche Mode, the Chameleons, Throwing Muses.

For example, how about that middle part in "Buddy Holly" (Weezer). The lyrics are so bad that it really does mess up at least that part of the song.

I must have heard Buddy Holly at least 100 times and I couldn't recite the lyrics to the middle eight of the song from memory, but I do think that part kicks ass musically. It makes the song.

Have we really got this far without someone mentioning Skrewdriver? OK I will - Skrewdriver. Obviously whether they are worth listening to regardless of lyrics is v debatable.

What about a group like Anal Cunt, where we've had threads going "roffle roffle roffle these lyrics are awesome" and then everyone pretty much agrees that none of the music is worth listening to?

Yeah Anal Cunt. Also - GG Allin - I am for some reason totally fine with rampant misogyny and other misanthropy as long as it doesn't cross into rape and racism. E.G. Die When You Die is an awesome cover of Destroy All Monsters' You're Gonna Die until you get to the verse where he sings "the KKK put the n*****s out to die". Can't get along with that, sorry.

GG was quite rapey

Yeah, he was. But I can deal with most of it apart from the songs which are flat out "I'm gonna rape you". I mean you can play Bite It You Scum to your friends.

Reviews of Radiohead, always did this, I remember, when again most of the time I have no idea what Thom Yorke...

To be quite honest that's a bad example, as their lyrics are really subpar. I always think of Radiohead's lyrics as being penned by a first year philosophy student: being willfully dense so you don't really get that they are bad paintings, something which, for example, Eminem does do very well. He paints a very clear image with a few strokes. Of course not in all songs, I'm sure you'll be able to quote a few Eminem lyrics that are crap as well. I'm talking about, say, "His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghett." which seems very descriptive. Or what abut Umbrella which is such a trite song because of its words (and really mediocre imagery).

I love lyrics and actually if they are absent (in the music) then I can rarely keep my attention. I love it when words and sound come together, either to go hand in hand or to collide.

I prefer:

I don't got that bad of a mouth do I?
Fuck, shit, ass, bitch, cunt, shoobie-a-doo-wap
(Woops!)
Skee-bee-ba-bee-wop, on Christopher Reeves
Sonny Bono, skis horses and hittin' some trees
(Hey!)
How many retards will listen to me?

It is curious that in all this thread very little actual lyrics have been quoted.

I'm working on it, Trayce

They call me Dr. Worm.
Good morning. How are you? I'm Dr. Worm.
I'm interested in things.
I'm not a real doctor,
But I am a real worm;
I am an actual worm.
I live like a worm.
I like to play the drums.

Some of my favorite lyrics are quite simple:

Chatterton suicidé
Hannibal suicidé
Démosthène suicidé
Nietzsche fou à lier
Quant à moi
Quant à moi
Ça ne va plus très bien

Chatterton suicidé
Cléopatre suicidé
Isocrate suicidé
Goya fou à lier
Quant à moi
Quant à moi
Ça ne va plus très bien

Chatterton suicidé
Marc-Antoine suicidé
Van Gogh suicidé
Schumann fou à lier
Quant à moi
Quant à moi
Ça ne va plus très bien

*sigh*

*cough*

This reminds me of a time when this guy told me he couldn't stand Dagger by Slowdive because of the lyrics. Despite the fact I actually like the lyrics, and that guy in particular is one absolutely huge asshole, who is very much full of shit, and generally does not know what he's talking about (and I should mention came from a hip-hop background), I found it really quite odd how someone could throw away a song - even if it was sonically enjoyable - based on the lyrics.

I've always seen it as a big content vs. form issue, and I think music, to me at least, is often little or at times nothing more than form. While I'm not debating that there is often some genuine meaning behind many songs, but I'm very reluctant to accept that music and lyrics are one, as lyrics can exist on paper, and music can't. This, I guess is a reverse argument of the issue of sonics in poetry.

And let us not forget music in foreign languages, or something like scatting, where music is appreciated on a purely formal level. By the asshole in the first example's logic, you wouldn't be able to appreciate say, French rap, or Reggaeton (although I'd be hard-pressed to appreciate it if I did speak Spanish), or Opera, if you only spoke English for instance, and to me, that's just ridiculous. For me, lyrics usually use music as a vehicle for making ideas expressed more accessible; rap, or say the Smith's or Bob Dylan are a great example. Nevertheless, I love words, they're formal properties are great and complement music well (and music also complements words, but not ideas) that's why I love Hip-House so much (and don't listen to it for the ideas behind it, heh).

Interesting you should say that since that French lyric I quoted was one of my favorite Gainsbourg tunes before I knew what he was saying. Then I figured it out, and it made the song pretty funny because of how jaunty the music for Chatterton is.

as lyrics can exist on paper, and music can't.

Mozart says hi.

I love lyrics and actually if they are absent (in the music) then I can rarely keep my attention.

where do classical and jazz fit into that framework? of do they not fit at all?

I found it really quite odd how someone could throw away a song - even if it was sonically enjoyable - based on the lyrics.

it's kind of like seeing a really pretty woman with a fantastic figure who comes to talk to you at a bar, but then opens her mouth and you find her teeth are all black and falling out.

I remember talking to the Indian intern we had at the magazine, who was amazed that a bunch of us were swapping cassettes of Asha Bhosle— he was like, "But if you understand the lyrics, they're all stupid treacle!" On the other hand, he really liked Oakenfeld and trance music, so what did he know?

This morning's review of Stars' new disc focuses mostly on its lyrics to support its assessment of the album as sub-par.

Who writes "par" or "above par" lyrics anyway? Dylan and Cohen? It all seems so subjective.

It is very subjective. Apparently some people think that Some Girls are Bigger Than Others has great lyrics.

Jesus Christ.

Dylan's "When the Ship Comes In" is a song with great lyrics, in my opinion. I'd consider it above par... but I'm sure there are people who think it's so-so compared to stuff off the first Jordy album.

I like Nick Cave's lyrics for the most part, but I don't expect everyone to write like that. It would be boring and in a lot of cases inappropriate.

There was a time when I probably would have claimed that lyrics were not as important to me as some kind of discrete sounds-only approach, but I've come to realize in my old age that this is total bullshit: lyrics matter an incredible amount. Thing is, they don't matter in quite the way that people discuss them -- they don't necessarily matter as literature, in the sense that we can quote them and explore the metaphors and rhetorical techniques. They matter as utterances, as performative utterances, and that's one very important level of both sounds AND words AND just pure human physical action that everyone is most definitely getting out of music, but that we tend not to have much of a framework to discuss very well.

For instance,

- in The Crazy World of Arthur Brown, he says "I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE, AND I BRING YOU ... fire," and this alone is amazing and weird and incredibly hilarious, not solely because of what the words mean or how they sound but because of the act of the utterance itself

- in "Ca Plane Pour Moi," Plastic Bertrand goes "I am the king of the divan!" -- and I know what he means (he's a lazy sod), and I appreciate the metaphor he uses to get there, but mostly I love the utterance, specific to these words, and I love uttering it along with him

Great lyrics aren't so good at carrying bad music, it's true -- partly because lyrics have a hard time being great at all without good music, such is their intertwining -- but also because we're used to appreciating texts in a couple gos*, whereas the musical movement gets used in a ritualistic, repeated way.

(* and we really do have a problem where we consider lyrics "good" when they seem like they're eloquent as texts, which is ridiculous because they're not texts -- and besides, stand-alone eloquence is not and has never been what they need, seeing as they are parts of collaborative PERFORMANCES)

I thought "I am the king of the divan" = "I am a sex god".

From http://www.david.gibbs.co.uk/plastic/plastic_lyrics.htm:

Allez hop! la nana quel panard!
Quelle vibration!
de s'envoyer sur le paillasson
Limee, ruinee, videe, comblee
You are the King of the divan!
Qu'elle me dit en passant
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
I am the King of the divan

Allez-oop! The chick, what a gas!
what a vibration!
to be sent on the door mat
filed, ruined, drained, filled
You are the King of the divan!
she says to me in passing
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
I am the King of the divan

Yes that's as clear as mud.

They matter as utterances, as performative utterances

Yeah, I'll go with that. Bring on the discussion of timbre.

As a metal guy, obviously I can't understand what the bands I listen to are saying 90% of the time. And as a metal reviewer, since I can't understand what they're saying and I rarely get lyrics sheets with the promos, I rarely focus on the lyrics unless they're really, blatantly dumb. Which is actually the case a lot of the time, but sometimes they're so bad I notice, e.g. black metal with intelligible vocals and Trivium with"DRAGON!" That being said, as a listener, my favorite bands tend to be the ones that have individual semi-poetic (or even psychedelic) images that I can grab and really enjoy, like Rush, Monster Magnet, Type O Negative, and Sisters of Mercy. I mean, if you read the actual lyric sheets for those bands, most of the time the songs make no sense, but they have great individual images. Part of that, as mentioned before, has a lot to do with the way the lines are delivered. Still, when I'm listening to music for the enjoyment of it (as opposed to analyzing it for review), it's mostly about how I feel at the moment I'm listening to, as opposed to looking at the album as an overarching piece. Therefore, I treasure the individual lines more than the entirety of the song. This may have been said before, above, but that's where I stand.

It's not just about timbre or sound, though! I mean, the "utterance" here contains both the thing said and the way it's said -- they are really and seriously not separable.

This is why I've stood up many times on here for lyricists whose stuff just doesn't hang together at all, in its entirety and on paper -- and yet the big lines you hear / notice / sing along with are great as discrete utterances

(We'll all differ on who we feel that way about, obviously, but I think I last made that argument about the first Interpol album, and lines like "oh look, it stopped snowing." That line is a good example, since every part of it is connected: the offhand way he sings it, its offhand placement in the line, the actual meaning of the words as an offhand thing to say, and THEN the fact of that line's existence as an utterance, an actual thing that people say to one another, with its own context and feel outside of the song. You know? When you say "oh look, it stopped snowing," you're not just communicating that it stopped snowing, you're referencing and play-acting an actual type of communication people have with one another, and I think that sort of thing is actually where a TON of the unexamined communication in lyrics comes from. It's maybe worth wondering why we often examine how lyrics look on paper, as texts, and basically never examine how lyrics would operate if someone just said them to you -- which is surely a tiny step closer to what lyrics actually do!)

(Re: Plastic Bertrand, that songs seems to mostly be about how he likes being lazy and an art bum and high all the time, and how that's the life for him, so I always interpreted "you are the king of the divan" as "you lie around all day and love it," rather than a sexual thing -- a proper divan isn't the greatest sex-spot anyway -- but yeah, I suppose that could go the other way too.)

basically never examine how lyrics would operate if someone just said them to you

Well, no. But is that important?

YES

Wait, what? I zoned out about halfway through. Seems like overanalyzing to me.

Sorry. Didn't mean to be a jerk. As far as how lyrics sound when someone says them to you, I've said lines from songs to people before, and I'm mostly just met with bewilderment. So I suspect either that, or it would just make you sound pretentious if you said them to someone seriously.

I find you in the morning
After dreams of distant signs
You pour yourself over me
Like the sun through the blinds
You lift me up
And get me out
Keep me walking
But never shout
Hold the secret close
I hear you say

Fucking gorgeous.

intervals jews substance over style = 4 tha birdz poetry is better when morphology rulez ttyl

*style over substace

drugs/thinking > music bt can lead to misorganization of words

nthn on top bt a bucket + a mop + n illustrated book abt brdz, c a lot up thr bt dnt b scrd, who needs etc

today when I was listening John Wayne Gacy Jr. I realized I was listening to a song about a murderer.

and a few months ago when I listened to Jim O'Rourke - Halfway to Threeway
I thought, man this is kinda demented.

Sometimes lyrics take songs I used to love for the melody, and make me realize they are fucked up.

umm mind if I share my favorite lyrics?

another polish funeral day and we burned all the money up pepper spray and swollen lips press your face a window ham and i pray we never do arrive the penthouse at the sands air stream driver golf tees and safety pins she shoots and never misses stare down passing traffic while they fit you for a jacket and i pray we never do arrive all the angels on a wire dizzy from the heights mothers milk and dirty feathers howard hughes hair and nails serenity prayer kleenex shoes carefully carefully with care another polish funeral spent i would return the favor when we oversleep the rapture because your watermelon candy mouth and i pray we never do arrive the penthouse at the sands airstream driver fist like head fixers ring red mouth twisted lined up dog slow derail oiled and bent mirror played 4 horse lipped coal black eyes sane all tied cashed and chained black mouth red oiled and bent cherry chalk fixer's shame all tied mirror played 4 horse lipped coal black eyes sane all tied if you think I never cared I'm a cunt in spring you know a voice like scraping foundations summer still pining away housecats across the marble loveless and lost for keeps voice like running water hearts of palm pining away housecats across the tile beside any 2nd hand sea triplesec and stale sheets there's a place for you brandy and rye the magpies are stirring lay down your last 20 dollars shepherds dead sober whispering numbers there's a star above the manger tonight devil gets wise when you start to win dead from your pleasure too soon horse flies are flying slow heavy from your remains silver green many mansions above us wash up your hands before you dive in sweet baby jesus give me luck at the tables there's a star above the manger tonight turn down the lighthouse low let the lost keep staying lost shepherds dead sober whispering numbers there's a star above the manger tonight sulfur slept out on the landing ramp still and touched matches and glade saved a dull friend carry like sulfer tongue and fireproof floor cards and cake beneath your brand new low wheel is cracked commotion in the lambs seen the light and let it pass late enough to see it come around sew up your pockets tame and slow to meet you cake and cards beneath your brand new low dew across your thighs columbus on the ocean wheel is cracked commotion in the lambs seen the light and let it pass quarter horses laze down your lemon switch peel the pennies from your eyes fever baby sin you think that you're a vampire 7 times the hard way come when you come slow angels lose sleep to the hiss around drove the lifers home down up off the crawl heater's on the downslide rub the ashes in fever baby sin sleeping sickness late come when you come slow angels lose sleep to the hiss around heater's on the downslide fever baby sin peel the pennies from your eyes put the pilot out quarter horses down sailors don't come back lit deep tin drops half the lights shot out the roof of your mouth back in your hollow odd habits odd lidded stoned and guarded you never take that face down anymore fever to sand surgery lights head full of sin shot out absinthe stutter heaven knows needles off the sand carpet of horses from the plane shade fell shimmering flies in the pauses at your table the flesh on your back sparrows swallow scratch their way down into you lidded stoned and guarded if you let it in fever to sand surgery lights head full of sin shot out absinthe stutter heaven knows needles off the sand low flying jets skim your bed temptation loses you again halo blackhands plantains woven in your blanket low cold silicone to rest your weary on friction landing st. ides chain chain chain feel like 6 and talk like 25 heat makes you cross makes you cross dixie wet rest your weary on spit turns to diamonds when it hits when you take your eyes off it halo black hands plantains chain chain chain low flying jets skim your bed temptation loses you again halo blackhands plantains chain chain chain buttered and confessed every stray wet behind the knees change your mind holy waters low tide in between bored and sin reeds and twine heel and rose always mine shallow tide a crooked time to wake you falling sickness faked unkind drawn to your sore lip shallow holy water's low tide another fixture waiting badly grazed almondine every stray badly bent would forgive a crooked time reeds and twine heel and rose always mine badly grazed would forgive a crooked time medicated dull your attention dry winter miles diamonds and glass cheaters hands you never take care you never take care stars are out spilling from afraid of flying trembling planes diamonds and glass mink eyed marble eyed in the gauze in the weeds by the drain red on pale there's a nail by the vent sweet for your heel in the gauze marble eyed waiting there kiss your mouth to shut you up crossed and lowered cheaters fine wings on fire the stars are out whisper stung in the wires all you steal you never take care mink eyed marble eyed in the gauze in the weeds by the drain red on pale there's a nail by the vent sweet for your heel in the gauze marble eyed waiting there kiss your mouth to shut you up coal in your stocking crimson dull bum skin suede stagger chain wine burned angel on your shoulder spent cross-eyed breeding swollen playing in the hoofs and noses there jesus only loves you when you're down hammer to let you sleep - idiot son opened like a rain cloud patience wants to take your mouth and swallow hard variation on nadia's theme belladonna freeze spider bikes and smoke ribbons round your head bunny gets paid fingers in the spokes shop class guitars no hands you're all eyes everybody knows cavities and tin scissortail across the only way to keep you keep you on the run belladonna freeze bunny gets paid hammer lock a victim away sandpaper tongue like a brand new thing your better days are all behind you now branded and burned away skyway down on you knotted by the screen door kidney stones for your black irish praying by the steam heat built a ship to needle out of tune and well connected skyway down cold hands poor circulation dalmatian skin oxtail downtown lights thunder port-wine sex i dont want jealous greed & vain skyway down on you taxidermy blues in reverse ice water bold as brass bitten and discarded dolls pistol whipped and chafed counts as a kiss i guess when you're juiced and soiled sold your tainted soul away when you lose your way come on back to me flank radio was bleeding cold and lonesome over sugar blood and sand wanted to be your game for a little while dusted off and in your hands taste enough to wreck pull the smoke out from your angels frost out of your blues heard some scratching slow and even on the door scrape me off this bar room wanted to be your game for a little while dusted off and in your hands stained and lit frozen in your headlights glowing red she knows you'll wait in the bruise colored pale wet your mouth and lie to me blurry around the edges panic in the weather stained and lit you had me hollow fried and neon drain it's a crawl the day before humming for your sunday driver hesitation sickness tease blurry around the edges panic in the weather stained and lit you had me lusted after overload stole the light around you ate away the miles and miles i can see this ending i know where to find you when i want you but i don't tremors through your habit blue and clean and not enough coming empty handed doctor up the meter milk your bait another day dry braindead when i'm with you fine lusted all around you gray i know where to find you when i want you but i don't braindead fine jodie foster john the baptist not a waitress left in sight smokey mountain trash shoulda not gone down on you jimmywine found a hole like a fresh concussion grinning smokey mountain double up put the sleeper hold on me honey mustard got no shame voice of reason let it ring if you need a sin big legged woman feel like i'm in a hurry bread and butter greased you honey mustard miles and miles moon calf tripe pale dim and pass you over rosy sidewalk weed surround salted thorough let it sit and left it run sleeping with your second choices wipe your kisses off my mouth shooting powder i can't taste you anymore autopilot ride vacant and untied disconnected hanging there the signal's broken lost you in the static showers teeth and razors all your friends weight trip your backstairs rosy fingered haze too close to see it come shot the floaters heels were grinding all your friends empty morning clear ringing in your ear disconnected pale dim and pass you over rosy sidewalk weed surround got your picture i dont need you anymore autopilot ride vacant and untied disconnected smoke and sugar dripping you walked out the door lick the train that ran you down kiss the hand that slaps your face all i want was for you to stay strange cillamange daylight's so unkind cilla slept away lazy glass eye let you down i don't know which one to look in all i want was for you to stay strange cillamange ball picture my distraction lit up like some strange wrapped your teeth around it lit up like some strange lit up like some ripe strange lit up spillin over ripe spilling over pollen stain and polaroid shoulder shoulder wrapped your teeth around it wrapped your teeth around it lit up like some strange lit up like some ripe strange lit up spillin over ripe spilling over skinned your wheels and laid down flat waited by the mail sat and stewed seems like all the time these days lather in your eyes spilling for the camera like a sunday hangs another clothesline car door raining dollar bills like a sunday hangs spent and in the crossfire lying under it kept around to peel the sunburn off your back lather in your eyes rusted water sweet and empty headed fuck high water storms and tenses lips and teeth hide your money roll your eyes-please laid upon your side i prayed i pictured laid across my table track your mood swings by the fraction strays like heaven rusted water-please gorshin standing at the gate at night spotlight coming round again red light perfume masquerade anchovy olive sweetbread mope acid teardrop through my tongue half shell kaise where's my drink tangled in the curtain daze (over and over) scotch and ice percodans high on fumes airplane ride green and gold navy blue airplane ride scotch and ice dowser straying driving your plane bleed it dry feels like home keeper scrape your soul clean narcolepsy driving your plane dowser straying missed the mark bleed your keeper hailstone gin jawbone tension tan your scar dowse your eyes shadow strange to kill the taste of you aim your stare the fountain lights halfway spent lost my patience halfway through all the time comes and comes comes and goes comes and comes bay of elevator suede watched your hands all night not around to bail me out this time what you need and what you need caught between lost my patience halfway through halfway spent comes water stung and water skated matter sliding frozen shut twice the fever scattered halfway honey melted over voices clouded up the phone lines went virgin-ated over on your knees and in the garden lost it in the carpet thickness powder over cold side hollowed out my head to feed the roses i'm too lazy to chase you down drank the bottle down drank the bottle buried in the thin hand and bled the shade hardest hour tasting cherry hardest hour i saw jill where fences are cornered knocked her off her head split clean left her head on the front lawn screaming kill me dreams i'm drowning under cherry trains are passing planes are fell one eyes fine two eyes no flies in the kitchen kill me in my robo sleep when you're drowning i wanna be around cherry coated through my lungs choking at the carburator on your back the hardest hour on your side the hardest hour laid her down on the slab put the silver through her hands noon she didn't mind the silver kill me in my robo sleep snowball bottle fed and chewing tin leg full of jailhouse key chewed your sleeve and stared a hole honey in the freezer empty fingers stained and jacked and kicked and railed and jones ahm so sick about it im so fucked without it you are just a messer i am just a mess bit the reins and dogged a smile washed my hands and walked balled up in the corner choking on the jailhouse key mm jess bitch about it ahm so fucked without it molly's on the rag take her to the woods yell slide grind sister flossy pulls the train i'm the last in line again lost the dotted line between our eyes heated like a copper wire dropped it like a spineless thief with a broken leg sit and disappear in a coma last in like ya got yer knees around your ears put on my head on every jack in line in front of me when you close your eyes i tell myself i know that's what you see sister marys in the wine sister flossys on the lawn never want you till you're far needed you till you're gone idaho dirt evil knieval can't feel his fractures cause his brains making voodoo from muscle relaxers the motor is sleeping from nothing to do your goodbye kisses taste like airplane glue januarys fine dr jimm is gone theres a wooden bed to roll on off of rode an angel home kicked to speed the ride just a sunflower high feels like my nerves wrong side of my skin wrong side of my cellophane man cracked your food chain cracked the halo around your head strange in your eyes rubbed the plastic down strange in your eyes novocain your eyes she hit the rail and teased it mmm took a dive feels like my nerves wrong side of my skin wrong side of my when you make your concentration face my insides turn around if the room was black i wouldn't mind the sight of your one good eye is lying through yer teeth you wooden teeth i wouldn't want to be the hand that feeds your frail skull the reason when your jaws are grinding grinding grinding im praying for the dog that has to wait for you to feed it i know the man that made wine if i were you i wouldn't ya give me grief ect the boy with the bad teeth is boasting again its not you who's talking you got a hole in the back of your neck she stands behind you with her fingers inside working your jaw you can't see her mouth moving but you can hear the grinding don't wish out loud don't wish too hard with your friends around you should keep it in the bathroom grief she's putting rocks in her mouth charmed a man to buy a piece eating dirt and her hands are shaking she's riding the elevators down rabbit eyed love you and the numbness eating dirt and her hands are shaking going up to wilmette packing any school its all the same face she's riding on the elevators down hot nickety trunk monkey crossed the street and climbed the stairs split my lip your teeth were smiling got your ribcage on my mind mouthing the box my bones are plaster like sugar in the rain angels buzzing around your eyes crazed the motor ran praying Indiana goes away i licked your ego and your mama cried angels dropped around your knees had a heart beat in my hand the motor ran out got your ribcage on my mind stitch my eyes stitch my mouth to heal pray for fingers to grow back got a face in my sight shinings like coal on a bad day itchin in my sleep tonight diamond cutter takes a long long long train my lips to hold my money need a box of steam to hold it face in my sight shines like a tool to care for shining like the x-mas rains down diamond cutter takes a long long long starebox black eyed from a nosejob with a butterknife can't complain smiling make your hair stay in lost it lost it birds bleed yellow when they crack like milkweed i don't mind spending my time lookin hey starebox learn to rain when i'm dry teases you with chemicals puerto rican eyes so far apart i can almost see behind me hey greased your mom a dollar and she opened up the shade blackeyed from a nosejob lost hey starebox learn to rain when i'm dry burned all your bridges down when you painted on your face blackeyed from a nosejob lost lose p.c.l.m. i get a hard on driving past your house your house baby your lips would make a lollypop so very very happy rubbing mirrors she tells me where and when sold me a spot in the window cage full of skin couldn't shut my eye i am with you i got a cage full rubbing mirrors move like claymation and your tongue sold me a spot on the closest floor i've got a cage full rubbing mirrors i don't want to go outside today i could wear a fireman's hat sitting in the world's biggest bath i'd have the world's biggest bath stay inside my house and i could pretend that i was hanging 10 singing surfin safari in my room with summer never ends i call my closest friends i only let my friends in my room the sun shines every day why don't you come and play we can dig in my sandbox rosewood, wax, voltz + glitter red onion spark dead black vein rosewood wax voltz and glitter rains around throughout your system brian jones sex is m*dical stroke your patience down so well fed wipe your razor spells and makers eyes regarded the way you're slurring tricks and lies blue eyed splashed pulls you closer pulls you closer now the theramin strains strains drives a cutlass now the theramin strains strains fucked it all away this time wheel and dive ride the corners you're only drunk when someone's watching nylon stringer fake your way lice in the manger voltz and glitter temper what you steal long black train across the mattress juice box honey pulls you closer rosewood wax voltz and glitter pinhole stars across the mattress pulls you closer now dashboard lighter down your back sweet subtraction because you lasted worn your welcome out border jackal black leg chinese bombs and boiling hallways a million wires beneath a skin of snow candy skin the cumshot hitched up to your star lost for keeps and gone to your reward beg for mercy soap and cigarettes bathhouse john the monastery keeper wise chinese bombs and heaven hill just cause you lasted delivered safely until the stars grow cold there's always tomorrow for dreams to come true believe in your dreams come what may there's always tomorrow for dreams to come true and so little time in a day we all pretend the rainbow has an end and you'll be there my friend someday there's always tomorrow for dreams to come true tomorrow is not far away trout silk dissection wise half onion stone stuff your mattress loose dog loose waking to a pirate's breath hot and sour on the nape of your neck calls you by your mother's name trout belly silk a brace of shakes you tell your man my hands are itching lose your shame see it slow lane cyclone red let your backbone ease let your hands forget bottles and bones (shade and sympathy) nervous john rescues all the whores bleeding nose and all taste of metal when you're hit straight on frozen dimes and throwing flashes clouds of angels liquored pink and underage steal your sweet decline this is the longest goodbye loose breaks on a one eyed continental engine willing interior stained china rattles wish the cold pacific shallows spells and fits resurrected calls you in forget your sweet decline this is the longest goodbye aching to get your pocket picked bottles and bones shade and sympathy kick the glass out of your path calls you in traps for your fingers fire for your mouth stones for your passage brass for your jaded underneath the baking clouds and hardening starless skies lick your collarbone clean and repeat there's no light in the window holes in the plot soaked in the sound waiting to be found with your heart attack shoulders the parking lot shakes you come like a natural disaster the fisherman's wife sends you out to sea with more requests you bite like a hammer but you don't mean a thing the cardinal staggers vinegar skies burned up the carpet lazy to change the cashier grins an electrical storm dizzy and shortchanged charms you blind when you fall you fall like fists of snow soaked in turpentine paul and silas soaked in the sound you're a razor in the silk aching to be found no light the fisherman's wife sends you out to sea with more requests what else is there left to do but love porno starlet vs. rodeo clown the porno starlet hovers in the eaves watching her own body fake and writhe mascara around her cataract eyes bruises on her knees she goes home to a rodeo clown pissing on his hand for luck dragging from the balls of a bull concussion barrel sings make you mean half a lie sugar and milk baked into your steel save a piece for home unbroken streak sleepwalk through starting to believe your own eyes the plans are tearing in the wind a steamboat lands on a flypaper bed sink down into you powder moth save my page sad decoration horse sized pill save a piece tayzee nubb maizee don't wait around steal another day competition dancers drop and snap their necks and fold shade too careful when you come weather slices through your ghost open your mouth what are you wrecking now 1/2 assed translation thrown all your devises laid weather holds you like a child then puts you back down never could pull the trigger even if you tried open your mouth what are you wrecking now small behind the metal swallow everything cello words to noise ripening and laced the satellites are growing vines warm your hands a smokestack heart swear on your cloudy eyes someone's talking through your mouth some monkeys sleep through anything easter postcards cloudy eyes just more to stick to just more slow seen you coming heard the noise to tease you off your slow right hand chew your stitches airport days leave you safe and come back old the house got small you taste the same some monkeys sleep through anything easter island wicked heel cotton thorn sweet perfume seen you coming heard the noise slow rt. hand slow rt. hand yellow moon deflates bless the broken wheel cold bath and silver rain a belly full of swans st.augustine nesting in the rafters a salted notion's bride in a brace of shakes shot better when youre blind the temperature divides fevers grow their own hands silver rain salt and fire bullet holes the light pokes through water finds an old diviner a belly full of dimes st. augustine takes to water sweetly indiana plates on chinese drivers the hydrant drains the lake divinity is diced the temperature divides the vacant corners take shot better when you're blind again the missionary's on the way home pistol grey heart and lungs press too hard don't give a fuck to keep them white sweet forgiveness there's been no soldiers just pharmacists and sneaks skin like paper light as confirmation wine wade in water hydroplane like a sailor across the tar along the lake hanging like a busted wing watch the doctor boil you clean fresh cut lawn sweet forgiveness light as confirmation wine wade in water rattlesnakes smell like split cucumber tear the corners off your 20 dollar bills and paste them to the swimmers shoulders save your spilling shorthand and black thread my side was aching low we're idiots again comfort's made of glass all along the fault ripe enough to rain mercy waits to let you lie it's not far to lean just enough to speed curb hit running warm too close to ever see waiting station reds shift down into clear shake the lead off your hands sawdust mouthing roman axes way tender crazed the storm rolls down your spine comfort's made a mess all along the fault ripe enough to rain new black tooth charcoal mother will you wear me out silver dollar rash rain on the lens maybe I'm over the ocean couldn't even make you wet stand down sailor send your brass rib home save it for a later leave heaven must have spit you out with sandstorm prayers and pealing bells dim little voice jet entrails out like a switch silver dollar rash gonna make you wiser got a new black tooth gonna make you wiser cooked in orange and gin your winter coat all summer long rain on the lens dim little voice out like a switch cooked in primer and rust glass plums dead bums mail your brass rib home lit a blue tip match off the white of your eye it's apples and cigarettes on cold water drive give your belly to the lions and your throat to all their babies the power washer screams like a panther your rope and scar and rabbit hearts jesus drains electric fences to fill you again sailors mouth and falling brail don't fall away you sleep like an angel with sparrows beneath your eyelids wash in a fountain lean into the kill the mayflies all explode when they come to the coil at the driving range under blocks of fake light a broken feel electric fence don't fall away nail gun marines foaming midget horses black smoke threads a straight line from your kidney to your hand from your hand to kingdom come be light enough to ride the backside of a magnet let it stay in lust with all the silver ghosts and dirty pictures fire in the horses mouth spitting cherry stems and square knots and drunk flies in the elevator camera the backside of a magnet let it stay let it stay let it fold the aldermen are praying praying to your picture st. martha locomotion snakes underfoot if easter was a river and the river folded under be light enough to ride let it stay let it stay glass behind the plains hanging ether jesus strobe decatur when you're blown when the river folded under shifting plates and bottle rockets ground out with your shoe st. martha with the serpents let it stay let it stay let it fold beneath the yachtsman knock you down when you stall be my legs be my mouth heaven's fake your mother lied sunday morning rolls her eyes and steals your home on your back on the roof steel eyed babies never play let your mouth full up with rain you never sing to me no water no more yellow lions and winter sleep when the power lines are down for days straight your filthy eyes and sugar mouth left on the steeple with the shakes sea glass wheels you folded under mercury slides along the tiles stepford wives and x-mas tigers frozen ladders on the phone sets you on the other shore with silverfish along the tiles left on the steeple with the shakes sea glass wheels you folded under she's a loose tooth and she's a bare wire unholy fine with a broken charge black hearted wife in the growling yard silvermine pictures and tongues of flame small hands wished away and held back painted ocean floor pipe and seed the weight relaxes razor to the tape out to thread taste the silver jets as they lose control over you punctured houseboats in punch drunk cases four sunday shoes caught under the stall read the rope and steer the pitch dark lost on you motel sex still fresh on your hand razor to the tape by the time i filter down to you a finger for an invitation too sane to find the feel cotton blood a jewelry box the last to leave the last to come the elevator waits to take you down she throws a prayer you'll never catch and i'm not holding on baby's in the engine room alright got the trap door by the feathers dressing for your date with the dumb anyway drunken sailor ripe heart attack station sharp as pastry now for the baby to find dressed up in a bag of nails drop of spend wrestling up against the mattresses takes the shine from off your forehead red food old heat honey down your legs honey down your wings o to hush a sick transmission out to seed for the slow entire can't wait to lose you now say grace and roll aside gave your lower lip and tried to steal it back speeding in your palm all powder fleece and tame for you lit machines the motor streams all down your kitchen throat a fine goodbye again fell in between the stations dime store fangs and dirty wings lap dance from the boys choir one by one petticoats and pails the milk maid up the back seam ghosts against your sun drugged horses it only rains for you your name was on the mortar maced and still amused a fine goodbye again fell in between the stations down eisenhower sun up w/mule hands across the winter cream oil up your carpet burns tripping up the gospel plow no desire to raise the wreck saddle up your coma lazy diamond noon held it fine ear against the plaster din kept your hands upon the plow wasted in the morning steam no desire to raise the wreck left out in the rain too long there was not no glory to re-live all 3 fingers all your limbs pliable now as steam and soft light traded off when you were down took it - on took it on the story bitches and the scene don't care unraveling now like steam and soft light the cutter loses his nerve and turns away the stepdaughter dissolves into the dark woods soundless mama take the pillow from under my head stepdaughter made my dying bed left out in the rain too long to marinate in steam and soft light the stepdaughter dissolves into the dark woods soundless the cutter delivers an elk heart for false proof bury me shallow and scratch out my name i'd make every mistake all over again another story drains as the famine breaks daylight along the grain against your warm weight quicksand and cradlesnakes everything you think you know is wrong egg white fire in a sheepish orbit tin ears for blue screen arms oil the string and wind the wheel box office poison day liberty waste a favor on you been the slower twin all along shone like shone like easy mothering to come easy dead eye wrong tin muse for watery ears shone like shone like slower twin slower twin a clean line moonlight bends a collarbone drink strung tight strung tight wheel along the artery the streetlights drift the eye-beams collide slow dissolve the car-chase draining gasoline shines a skin across the water barely touching now sad eyes when you're vampiring again carry your violence light carry the moonlight seed the sleep in your eye the blue of the pilot light mask maker heart fire eater throat rice water brain perfect stray perfect stray dead friends shade your sad eyes when you're vampiring again by the cold unflattering light carry the glass in your jaw carry the flatlands in the base of your spine the city is rusting there the weather never cared barely touching now spilling down the stairs for this time around tight pretend imperfection imperfection imperfection carry your violence light carry it like a lost limb itches and aches a second you cant forget carry your violence light carry the moonlight seed the sleep in your eye the city is rusting there texas looks like galilee cripple trees mean little seed today hung clearly fake only for your eyes spit it out james take it all apart (take it all apart) waiting for the yellow bleed mustard from a crow quiet quick violence like shit on old money cant wash it off holds like lice on a lion stay quick and quiet my mean little seed held on like lice on a lion when leon spinx moved into town made a machine by describing the landscape a child made out of a song about money our sex became a boxer who moved in next door retired a separate man we thought we knew joked about him feared a little bit nodded hello admired from a distance like when leon spinx moved into town my leg falls asleep and becomes a telephone call whispered on the back stairs the cord disappears behind the kitchen door breathing in the pauses seeing how long we can go without saying anything rain climbs up the backdoor stop your trying now you're done low house waitress secrets steal your fingerprints and alibis away i want you bad and i don't know why another sleeper fighting million dollar flies peel the paper roses off your steel ribs off your bones million dollar funeral ghosts will linger on your pillowcase tonight apple red i want you worse another song drenched in million dollar flies northern feel basement light milk black killing green inside like sour young fruit counting every edible shade of red unclenched heart fever flowering upon re-entry half tame spark weightless charge hurricane chaser telegraphing every dive rivering through your wires traveling your limbs how long will you how long weightless repetition how long will you hold on how long will you how long almond dive ice blind eye milk black killing safe crack fingers rivering through counting every edible shade of red your golden ass early minor japanese pitcher sidearm slow tic a wolfish mouth on a mouse-ish face lady from shanghai 3rd man shot wild in the house of mirrors vicodin itch bite your lip take it all in but it aint sticking it aint sticking it aint sticking it ain't sticking speed and grace traded tea lites for an irish womb don't you get only what you ask for every time everytime comeback comeback comeback come make your make your make your motion crown your crown your crown your crown your crown your crown your golden ass blackbirds in formation blown like thumbtacks spilling across a marble sky the key slides like olive oil into the lock into the lock mean old sun bearing down mothers milk breathe in for me blood orange in an amaretto pool don't you get only what you ask for everytime michigan girls in the marble of your animal eyes take my comfort anywhere dry white scratches on a sunburnt shin don't give it a name drowned and drinking the light gods eyes are closed just like yours straw bones nails of november clay the way you kiss your uncle on the mouth slow learner keep forgetful don't give it a name drowned and drinking the light gods eyes are closed just like yours black sea resort off season days broke heels and bare legs pink waterline gave up on your twisted code gods eyes are crossed maybe just like yours braid your sins into its mane and kick it to the county line shake your chains cold and loose there's nothing safe in your stars in and out of sleep even with the rise and fall pulled the mattress out the window laid out under the smoke rings and the funnel clouds shake your stars bring it down sad sad complications buzzing like a worn out fret we'll cut our hair and fake our death silver harm sugar hands drunken hive amputated years are growing back a new shade anarene stoplight's out two sisters drunk a dollar bet anarene anarene two sisters drunk on each other red foot cold floor you're the root you're the hanging tree you're easter in the phillipenes you send me reeling dinner sun sinner sun iron wind hanging tree red foot cold floor dinner sun dinner sun lion and bee beggars breathe all one lung all one engine choir looking lost and left undone by the riverbed sending off winter keep in bending it with your promises long hands ripening quiet as a cutters eye from the heights the planets curve tide and bullets harmonize ocean claws waters teeth traded away your soldiers memory wet sweet morning come kill a jealous night dirt blue lit in a dried out pool keep in bending it with your promises long hands morning come kill a jealous night white blind beached on gold our apple skin our tire shop hands glide down hold my skull in a crush of your legs break when you break when you break it bite down bite back bugs are screaming their last screams always in always in always in shifty as you made me you made me you made me sawtooth sung a cheater's song telephone morning lush 26 tried 26 missed old names losing speed this city is wrecked a fistful of shake now here to collapse let it pass it sings itself sick and sweet florida walls locked into it a painted fake old medicine seven lean kine slept against an angels neck sawtooth sung finely get rain and finely get born old names are peeling away hung sick and sweet florida walls wait at the bottom under glass not mine to collapse in locked into your pull choke on your protection not mine to collapse in bet your eyes you're a broke law onions and bread born fine born late wait in the reeds peels your face and wears it for a crown walk into my mouth and tongue marsh's mine enemy my enemy my enemy my trick bird shoulder wing one leg fine gentle dead water laps upon the edge temptation open whats shut trick bird enemy my enemy my enemy me screamers luck old faced baby our cocaine years trick bird just yours and mine enemy my enemy my enemy my enemy my enemy fill my belly with your whispering some barely on the thread orange sound water sworn and cotton fire cold light swallowing your song pasture moonlight newborn legs let the constellations drop crack your scorn water your grave only when you're half erased forget your lines bed of nails sharpening the edges of your grace cold light sifting through lift the shade and let the night in carry your bed on wingbone legs let the constellations drop water your scorn and crack your grave sharpening the edges of your face lost a day bed of nails lost your lines only when your wrecked only when you're half erased loneliness aside it's alright 3 legged animals hands fit together like medicine butterfly itch on a bottle rocket tail everything is bleeding shake the glass out of your hair spell your name in broken teeth 3 legged animals shut their sweet eyes lick your scars and grow wings sleep for me sleepless dream for me dreamless hands bleed together fine sweat off your makeup peel and wait in washed out gold ease back warm electric chair leave your memories we're almost new sleep for me sleepless dream for me dreamless water dissolving into water a head asleep upon a lap animal dream animal tongue animal medicine rose petal ear between my fingers water dissolving into water a head asleep upon a lap sons and mothers red hand rise side door bones belly and limbs mudslide daughter wrung sweet wine nail and dime a glasswork heart yolk and scotch mask and bed mudslide daughter sons and mothers orchard orchard mask and bed ice on dancers broken feet spit and shine black metal valentine mudslide daughter side door bones not for mine black metal valentine tiny wrens to take the dinner from your teeth black metal valentine wire in the teeth while we warm twine while we breathe skip notes and bless where you been we lose days -broke hearts are whole or burned by the christians recline held under your tongue like a tiny stone carried home sung throated air down your spine crown cooks light we wolfed and whale bellied on we shone down blinder and winterless days lost a black ocean recline held under your tongue like a tiny stone paid and gone when all the numbers swim together and all the shadows settle when doors forced open shut again a flytrap and a petal my eyes burn and claws rush in to fill them and in the morning after the night i fall in love with the light it is so clear i realize and here at last i have my eyes when all the figures sound retreat the soft skin starts to shrivel when dreams made real become less sweet the orchid and the metal my sex turns and claws rush in to fill them and in the morning after the night i fall in love with the light it is so pure i can arrive without the fear of seeing my eyes when all the characters full size and every moon is level when all the spirits burn in lies as center grief by steel my eyes burn and claws rush in to fill them and in the morning after the night i fall in love with the light it is so clear i realize and now at last i have my eyes when all the numbers swim together and all the shadows settle when doors forced open shut again a flytrap and a petal my eyes burn and claws rush in to fill them and in the morning after the night i fall in love with the light it is so clear i realize and here at last i have my eyes our kitten sees ghosts scratched and bit crawl out of the faultline this book is the mask on the bride circle til the engine dies tail high let it lay burn our dead shin high it's almost surgical the way you shatter when you hit the water drawn on the window steam claws on sleep addiction this conversation is the dust on anything slow and green burn our dead this unwilling is the way you shatter when you hit the water catacomb wine a Chinese actor loses heart just about to flower ready and wet root crown sweet ever on tricks the light legs entwined brick on pedal chain on wheel bones and bread tenderness here we are held and carried warm from the machines fixing the afterlife saints and angels sex lives switch wives a belly what's never seen the sun root crown sweet ever on trust came slanted made no mention bones and bread tenderness a dim head light arrives friction breathe tenderness trust came slanted legs entwined brick on pedal chain on wheel bones and bread tenderness here we are held and carried hot blind fight empty armor dim head light arrives emptying yourself for sleep soft bones a skeletal stretch of drive skinny arms your white dress comes cigarette teeth by now the eye you lost in the crusades is planted in the sand kneeling by wait to reap another sight this where you leave behind your brush fires and wedding day our ethiopian bones the pictures and the pills remember when this was the ocean tiny rivers bleed the map the eye you lost in the crusades is planted in the sand the violins collide into a rabbit chase a lost try lay easy now in warmer hours and steal back the century the open window lets it in sunday noises scratch you awake our mice and skulls old wives projected on the black sand thin my blood california if we ever get to home plant myself among the weeds and pray the violins collide into a rabbit chase of careful words plant you deep down in the clay the icicles chime fingerings lost in the motions of our hands sit just as you are lost in the crime carry the choir age and peel after the quiet bleeds peel and age familiar peace in the pain pulling you wrong in soft belief and midnight finish a violent quiet freeze the carnival fighters are sharing a bed tonight bruised in the hay the circle around the brawl divides in frozen rain on spiders house after the quiet bleeds peel and age familiar peace in the pain raindrops tremble and wait to freeze on spiders house along your skin lost my language black lip and red carnation safe house safe tap shoes break union station marble wrapped in malpractice quiet in the sway oooo-sing to me pink and sour oooo-drop down drop down de-sung ribcages shelter wound river languid husk of old jet sweet light tavern in the morning taxi driver silent hard long hands oooo-kill the kitchen kitchen light oooo-drop down drop down safe house dead trying to whisper a soft vaccination cotton in the calm along your side lost my language on sand and smoke foundation loose in the sway oooo-sing to me pink and sour oooo-kill the kitchen kitchen light

liking red red meat/califone lyrics doesnt make me demented does it?

I like a good hook. Otherwise I'm all for the melody.

Guess.

Bernard Sumner to thread (and I adore him).

those lyrics are an example of spamdexing

This is pretty simple to me. Exceptionally good lyrics improve a song, exceptionally bad lyrics hurt one, and the vast vast majority are acceptably mediocre.

Exactement.

i agree with that.

nowadays, if i'm in my car and I hear a song on modern rock radio uses the word "pain", i have to change it immediately.

I don't really find either lyrics or music to be more important than the other in a song. To me, "song" is about a duality, an interaction between words and music. If it's not about both words and music, I tend to feel it lacks part of the essence of song. It doesn't usually take me that long to suss out either the lyrics or the music after listening to a song a few times. If either element seems isolated, as though the writer was only focusing on one to the exclusion of the other, the result often feels shallow to me, and I don't want to go back and keep listening to it or thinking about it. But if the interaction between the music and the lyrics is rich and subtle as it can be, or if there the music and lyrics both contain many paths and possibilities and shades and messages, I'm a lot more likely to fall in love with the song and keep listening to it.

Also J0hn Darni3ll3 is the best with lyrics.

Hey guys, I'm a little late to this thread..:( My boyfriend and I fight about this all the time. It's why I hate Madonna. Those fucking lyrics are unbearable. Tunes are ok, but...jeez lady, get a thesaurus or something!

Do drums actually matter?
Do guitars actually matter?
Do keyboards actually matter?
Do brass sections actually matter?

Now I get why you said this. It doesn't matter what you use, it's what you do with it. I don't care if you sing through a garden hose while strangling a cat, what I care about is how well you use and expore those tools. Lyrics are just a tool. You can make something interesting if you try. But to dismiss them entirely is so silly to me. What would Nixon in China be without lyrics?? What would Smog sound like? Or Nick Drake without words? Lyrics may not always be complete narratives, but the choice of words and their delivery can invoke unexplainable, moving things in our minds. That's pretty awesome.

Lyrics may not always be complete narratives, but the choice of words and their delivery can invoke unexplainable, moving things in our minds

I definitely agree with you there. But I have to admit, I love Nick Drake but I can barely understand what he's saying 90% of the time. He could just hum and mumble and sing nonsense syllables and I'd still love him. I'm not a lyrics person as my original post clearly indicated, so this might not be saying much, but I do have my favorite lyrics from certain artists, and I don't think I could quote a single lyric of Nick Drake's beyond "Pink pink pink pink".

What would Nixon in China be without lyrics??

I had to re-read this.

I generally agree about lyrics not being a big deal. But terrible, shitty lyrics really CAN kill an otherwise decent song, even injure an album.

Case Study: Torche. New heavy pop band from Floor/Dove people. Debut out last year. Included a godawful song called "Fuck Addict" - w/ sultry-spoken (dude) lyrics about some cheezeball vampire sex fantasy, followed by some music, followed by dude bellowing "MAKE LOVE ... NOT WAR!" over and over again.

Impossible to listen to or forgive. That horrible lyric pretty much ruined the whole record, infecting everything else with stupid germs. To prove this point, the band's now gone and issued an improved, "remixed" version of the record. Didn't change much of anything, except that they removed all singing from Fuck Addict. It's now an instrumental, and as a result, the album's about 500% better.

Lyrics totally CAN make a song's music fall into place! Without its lyrical imagery, for instance, Underworld's "Juanita/Kiteless/To Dream Of Love" would merely be an acceptable dance workout. With the words, it's fucking transcendental.

You're both right! Yeah!

I gotta say about Torche though, there are some great lines on that record. Maybe not on Fuck Addict, but what about "Harakiri, Missionary" from Vampyro? Brilliant.

pardon me, what would Nixon in Chna be without a libretto

Lyrics are only important insofar as they help me sing along.

In addition to individual taste, the question falls to personal listening habits: some people are acutely attuned to the words being spoken/sung, while others hear the things someone's singing as something akin to a bassline or melody, i.e. an integral if not particularly vital part of the song.

They matter as utterances, as performative utterances,

P.S. Dere student-types who say that they don't think musicians' lyrics matter, apart from Bob Dylan's, because he's a special case, and his songs are ALL ABOUT the lyrics anyway,

please fuck off.

For me, lyrics can add, but not subtract. I am a Dio and Yes fan after all.

Do you mean singing, then?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Performative_utterance

which I'd never heard of till I read this rupture thing:

http://www.negrophonic.com/2007/styrofoam-justice-the-bowery-mode/

Lyrics can matter in a traditional song, although not necessarily in a piece of music.

I don't really see how lyrics are performative utterances. A performative utterance is a speech-action, i.e. "I now pronounce you man and wife" or "I bet you $10 that xyz."

re: CADestroyer

Torche record is great (Fuck Addict excepted). Still, I'm not into it for the language.

Dio is a perfect example of a lyricist who comes up with great individual images, but the songs make absolutely no sense whatsoever when looked at on the whole.

but the songs make absolutely no sense whatsoever when looked at on the whole.

That's because Dio is an operatic elf of the fourth dimension.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAINBOW in the DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARK

Oops: I picked the terms "performative" and "utterance" without remembering they had a specific meaning. I didn't mean them in the Austin way, really, but quite close.

I think Jeff and Ned are missing the point of what I mean about considering how lyrics would function if spoken. Point being: people often examine how lyrics look on paper (i.e., what it means for someone to have written them), but not so much how lyrics communicate out loud (i.e., what it means for someone to say them to you).

Lyrics that make you kill your parents. Those lyrics matter.

I second Ned.

I see what you're trying to say, Nabisco, but unless I've misread it, it seems like you are substituting one version of looking at the lyrics separately from the song in itself (via the printed word) for another (via conversation). I'm not sure either are any more or less valid than the other.

I guess if you listen to music by weepy singer songwriters, then that might be a factor. If you listen to music by bands with lyrics like "I was born in ashes of molten hatred/ Raised by demons in abodes of the end / The reaper s scythe I fall upon to light my path / Wrecked by mangled wounds of life / I have become the resurrection of the evil one / you know that I don't fucking care if I live or die," I think you can get a pretty good idea of what the reaction would be if you said that to someone.

no, lyrics function in a song entirely differently from a spoken (or written) line of words and i think lyric can be a function of delivery (or vice versa) which can be a function of melody which can be a function of someone's bass line or whatever and back and forth, etc. whatever 'performative' means in specific disciplines, i think nabisco is on the right track. i can hear 'powderfinger' and i have problems with what i'd see in my mind as a collection of lines but the delivery and the chords, you know? lyrics for me point out other locations in a song and other locations in a song provide counterpoint to lyrics or really point out the lyrics and make them mean something completely different! it's all about working with the text for me, or at least trying to.

where do classical and jazz fit into that framework? of do they not fit at all?

i rarely listen to jazz. classical? never.

as lyrics can exist on paper, and music can't.

Mozart says hi.

hopping back a bit here (and doing little more than offering my underdeveloped take on what others have already said), you're both wrong! Music can be represented on paper as notation, but that says nothing of the experience of actually listening to the music, and trying to convey the experience of listening to the music (through a review, for example) may offer more, but still isn't a substitute. Obviously. But while the actual words of the lyrics can exist on paper, that, as nabisco and others have said, can't define what the listener experiences when they hear the lyrics as they are sung and as they exist within and with the music. So yeah, you can put the lyrics onto paper only as much as you can put the music onto paper, that being not very.

no shit

But surely even Mozart would agree that with lyrics it's the sound not the idea. You can write notation, but even notation exists only in concept. Lyrics exist in two parts: form - the sound the words emit - and content - what they mean. The latter does not exist in any sort of sonic realm, therefore isn't music (under the definition that understands music as being a sonic enterprise, not a conceptual one) while the former does, the condition being that these utterances don't bear any meaning.

That is what I mean when I say lyrics don't exist on paper, and unless theres some grand oversight in my logic, I take this be a necessary condition. I'm tempted to illustrate this with the example of "differance" (Jacques Derrida's concept of how language and speech can be alien from each other) but won't as that was just way too difficult for me to grasp.

Getting turned off by bad lyrics is easy though, I mean, I'm not going to say, you know listening to Skrewdriver is ok by me because what they say exists on a formal level only. But even still, people don't not listen to skrewdriver because they're shitty vocalists, it's because of the ideas that are contained in the vocals.

http://www.nbc.com/30_Rock/images/bios/alec_baldwin.jpg
"This is boring. I'm bored now."

no shit that what you said was wrong? I'd get into matters of the sublime and such too rather than merely state the obvious if I wasn't so sure I'd horribly misunderstood that abstruse asshole Lyotard.

It was a joke about what the other guy said. I agree with you. Peace.

But surely even Mozart would agree that with lyrics it's the sound not the idea. You can write notation, but even notation exists only in concept. Lyrics exist in two parts: form - the sound the words emit - and content - what they mean. The latter does not exist in any sort of sonic realm, therefore isn't music (under the definition that understands music as being a sonic enterprise, not a conceptual one) while the former does, the condition being that these utterances don't bear any meaning.

this is clearly not true. lyrics = poetry. Poetry is not only about the sonic qualities of words.

lyrics = poetry

Says who?

do you seriously disagree with this on a general level, or is this an argument for songs like "Tourette's"?

I disagree with it on a general level. I'm finding myself very sympathetic to Nabisco's position on this thread, and so while I find that lyrics can often function in a similar manner to poetry, I resist the equating of the two.

I disagree with this as well. Many, many song lyrics are not intended to be broken apart from the music they accompany. I remember Yo La Tengo saying this very thing in an interview--they didn't print their lyrics in the CD packaging because they weren't like poems.

Musicians use lyrics in a variety of ways. To make an across-the-board statement about the nature of lyrics seems pretty risky to me.

explain how you think that poetry and lyrics differ as a communicational tool.

Um, lyrics are accompanied by music. Poetry is read or (preferably) spoken.

Do I need to continue?

yes.

The music and the vocal delivery (including the timbre of the voice) add their own layer of context and meaning. Consider Jim O'Rourke's lyrics on "Memory Lame," which on the surface read as pretty misanthropic but become sort of hilarious with his deadpan vocals and the jaunty, sunny orchestral arrangement.

Lyrics are a form of poetry. They're poetry designed to function in a specific musical context. That this form of poetry is composed at least in part as music and relies on that and other music to achieve its effect doesn't make it not poetry.

sigh....

OK, let's use a couple of examples. I love "Heartbeats" by The Knife. I think it's probably the best song of the 2000s. One reason it's so great is that while its lyrics are highly expressive and quite sad, its music is upbeat and exuberant, to an almost comic degree. That push-pull messes with our expectation of what kind of music accompanies sad lyrics, and vice-versa. The lyrics on their own would read basically as lament. The music makes them more ambiguous--potentially more positive for some lines, heart-wrenchingly tragic for others.

Less well-thought out, but more recent for me is "$1000 Wedding" by Gram Parsons. This song moves along slowly and quietly but rises dynamically a couple of times. It's not just a sad narrative ballad, and the dynamic changes that aren't immediately apparent from reading or speaking the lyrics are made apparent by the music. This gives the song a greater sense of liveliness and realism--some of the events Parsons describes really jump out at you.

To conclude, accompanying music can change the meaning and effect of lyrics. A poem, read on the page, lacks this intervention except as the reader imagines it. A poem, spoken by someone, has the potential for this effect but I'll maintain that it's different from tempo, melody, mode, and dynamic changes built into music.

xpost I could maybe get behind that. It seemed like Richard was relying on a reductionist "lyrics = poetry" argument in order to make claims about what lyrics do based on what other forms of poetry (the kind we usually call "poetry") do and not taking into consideration the differences.

I'd also perhaps argue that if we widen our notion of what poetry can be, then it's foolish to say that poetry "is not only about the sonic qualities of the words," since I'd wager that some poetry (and not just lyrics meant to accompany music) certainly is about just that.

Lyrics are a form of poetry. They're poetry designed to function in a specific musical context. That this form of poetry is composed at least in part as music and relies on that and other music to achieve its effect doesn't make it not poetry.

Yeah, this is true if we use the broadest-sense definition of poetry. I think where we need to be careful is in assuming that all lyrics can exist outside of their musical context and not be seriously altered.

epic poetry was sung for mnemonics right? like Homer? anyway less of difference before the printed word I imagine. and surely a very fuzzy line between "spoken" poetry and say acapella singing ---

Yes yes it's the old "define yr terms" argument - but it's quite clear to me that lyrics exist in a different context and function in a different way to poetry, so any definition of poetry which also managed to encompass lyrics would be rather impoverished.

Poetry
1. the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts.
2. literary work in metrical form; verse.
3. prose with poetic qualities.

These could all describe lyrics - but only incompletely and ineffectively.

And, xpost to reacher, there may be a continuum between lyrics and poetry but that doesn't diminish the distinction between them.

I'm terrible w/lyrics, as far as remembering them. Even my favorite songs, songs I've heard hundreds of times, in most cases I couldn't be counted on to deliver a very good karoake version that didn't devolve into nonsense syllables at some point. For me, this question gets a pretty easy "yes if you want them to, no if you don't" answer.

DOMINIQUE LEONE,

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/c/ca/Dontforgetthelyricslogo.png/250px-Dontforgetthelyricslogo.png

I try not to but it just happens!

if all things turned to vapor they could still be distinguished by their smell

OK, let's use a couple of examples. I love "Heartbeats" by The Knife. I think it's probably the best song of the 2000s. One reason it's so great is that while its lyrics are highly expressive and quite sad, its music is upbeat and exuberant, to an almost comic degree. That push-pull messes with our expectation of what kind of music accompanies sad lyrics, and vice-versa. The lyrics on their own would read basically as lament. The music makes them more ambiguous--potentially more positive for some lines, heart-wrenchingly tragic for others.

all this may be true, but would you argue that the lyrics were chosen for completely for their sound and not their content?

Most poetry is, at least in part, about the sonic qualities of the words. To hear William Burroughs read his poetry is not the same as reading it. Most poetry gains something when read aloud by a voice that understands it - spoken word forms entirely depend on that.

I don't get why any of this at issue. Lyrics in music can reasonably be considered a form of poetry, but they can't be judged without taking the music context and effect into question. Just like you can't judge a guitar part without hearing the rest of the song.

P.S. Definition of poetry posted above is antiquated. Doesn't account for non-rythmic, non-metrical forms. Doesn't account for concrete/experimental poetry.

Edit: "...not the same as silently reading it yourself".

(xpost to the PS) ...doesn't account for lyrics. Yes you can draw a circle that includes rhythmic and non rhythmic and metric and non metric poetry and lyrics too, I'm sure in many cases it would be a usefool demarcation. But other ones are possible. Generally I prefer the ones where lyrics and poetry are in separate circles. Like I said it's just the "define your terms" argument.

As an aside: great lyrics usually make shitty poetry, great poetry would (at least sometimes) make shitty lyrics.

"usefool" wtf?!

I think the question isn't so much one of definititions, but of implications. People don't like the suggestion that lyrics might be considered as poetry, because it seems to imply that they can be judged as most poetry is now judged: as words on paper. And that almost never works for lyrics.

Anyway, are we saying that lyrics are always good if the song as a whole appeals to us? 'Cuz I love Om, and I think the vocals in their music sound GREAT! But I also think their lyrics are poor - portentious gibberish. They work 'cuz you mostly can't make 'em out, and 'cuz the odd phrase you can make out ("the aeronaut toward the object form" or whatever) suits the mood. They may be ritually or spiritually significant, can't comment on that, but they aint' good

There could not have been a better example to illustrate your point. I cannot bring myself to read Om's lyrics even though they are all clearly printed in the liner notes. I will not ever because I know they are "poor - portentious gibberish", but I love the way certain phrases come out in the song.

Do you think there is poetry that could be equally as poor when written down, but would work when spoken aloud?

yes, there's a lot of it. particularly when the author him/herself is reading it aloud.

A hell of a lot of very successful spoken word pretty much sucks in the "words on paper" sense. By successful, I mean well-regarded, slam-winning, popular.

obv. picking up on tone is an important aspect of poetry and lyrical appreciation. i fail to see anyone should make the argument that poetry is just ink confined to paper while lyrics are the embodiment of living, breathing emotional expression just because there's music there.

this conversation is getting too exhausting because of the non-alignment of preconceptions about terminologies. ima bail out now

i fail to see anyone should make the argument that poetry is just ink confined to paper while lyrics are the embodiment of living, breathing emotional expression

I fail to see anyone making that argument in this thread. Is it cos I quoted an outdated and stuffy definition of poetry?

But the couple of responses before that - good to know. Not an aspect of poetry I was particularly aware of.

A lot of what I like about poetry is how it looks on the page, how the words are visually juxtaposed with one another, whereas a lot of what I like about music is the sonic moods and textures it creates, so in that sense, lyrics and poetry have almost opposite functions for me.

That's a fair distinction. I expect you're not alone in that.

I read a fair amount of poetry, and when I do, I try to read it aloud, slowly, emphasizing the sound and rhythm of the language. Goofy as hell, but I want to hear and feel it as much as read it. If I don't do this, I often find written poetry rather dull and impenetrable - even stuff I like.

Argh, dudes, no matter how much you want to get all "poetry is a composition for the human voice" about it, there is a major and obvious split these days between

(a) poetry being distributed and consumed almost entirely on paper, and designed accordingly, and

(b) lyrics being distributed and consumed almost entirely as audio recordings, and designed accordingly

Acting like the two are in any way equivalent is as ridiculous as mistaking a movie for a book.

That's absolutely true. There is a valid distinction to be made, and for the most part, the two things are quite different, both in form and function.

But I'm not sure what we gain by insisting on the distinction. We all understand that lyrics don't exist in isolation, that they succeed or fail in a primarily musical context. We know that lyrics can look like crap on paper and still work beautifully in a song, or vice-versa. And I hope we accept that lyrics aren't a solely musical element, that they have at least a quasi-literary identity.

Given all that, why should we worry about whether or not someone calls lyrics a kind of poetry?

Nabsico, what are the implications of "consumed on paper" to you? How do you account for most of human history when poems were memorized and recited aloud because people weren't literate? Am I totally missing something?

all this may be true, but would you argue that the lyrics were chosen for completely for their sound and not their content?

I don't understand this at all. Of course not.

Yes: you are totally missing the words "these days."

P.S. What is gained by reminding ourselves of this distinction is -- as I said above -- a chance to push ourselves to find more ways to talk about lyrics the way they actually function and the way people actually respond to them (rather than always winding up talking about them as texts, simply because we don't have enough of a framework / vocabulary / history encouraging us to talk about them as they are).

Wow, I totally did miss those words. Sry, bro.

X-post: When talking or writing, we do tend to praise lyrics that sound good in a language-only sense and condemn those that don't. But that's an inevitable result of the difference between language and music - and the fact that most of our communication is linguistic.

If you quote a lyric that sounds good in isolation, people say "damn, that's some great lyrics!" If you quote something that only works with music backing it up, they say "um, yeah, I guess you had to be there."

Maybe that's unfortunate, but it's also just the way things are.

talking about, explaining, discussing =/= "quoting

I get that, and agree. But it doesn't surprise me at all that the lyrics that get the most praise are the ones that work best as words on paper. Nor do I see anything wrong with that.

I see something terrifically wrong with that, because it's as if we're endlessly discussing symphonies by discussing which halls have the most comfortable seats.

It's also just a missed opportunity, and I think it's one that might have some small negative rub-off on the music itself. Look at reviews of any random small-time new rock band, and you'll usually find the issue of lyrics cordoned off into a space by itself, as if the songs and melodies exist whole and then it's a whole separate question of what words one decides to slot in -- which is actually the case/process with plenty of acts. But compare with reviews of hip-hop, where the content of the rapping and the actual tone and presentation of the voice are much more often treated as totally intertwined: they're part of an entire expression of a personality, the things said and the way they're said. You don't separate DMX's lyrics from the persona he's putting forth in the way he delivers them, the voice he has.

Stuff like this does get talked about with rock bands, a little bit, but it's usually discussed in terms of the person's voice, as the quality of the singing voice: one ringer has a rambling shout, another has a preacher's exhortation, another has a sinister deadpan. But of course those things are absolutely tied to what's being said, and when you break them down too far into technical categories -- vocals, lyrics, etc. -- you can wind up making a lot less effort to try and capture or talk about the overall personality that's coming through, or the type of human presence in there. That's a missed opportunity for sure, and it's something I'm always glad to see people trying to dig into. It's hard and risky to try, without question -- you risk getting overly impressionistic, veering too far from the hard data of descriptions and comparisons and into a far more subjective place, where you're talking about What Sort of Person you seem to be hearing in there -- but it's absolutely worthwhile, because it forms this huge under-discussed part of how people actually relate to music.

So I think you don't get very far talking about (e.g.) Malkmus lyrics without talking about the Cheshire-Cat way he sometimes delivers them. I think people should talk about stuff like the difference between singers who kinda of "act out" the delivery of what's being said, versus singers who are observing and reporting it. I think people should talk more about the non-word parts of lyrics, their quality and what they accomplish -- the pauses and lacunae, the gasps and trills. Critics always feel free to shoot for this stuff when they're talking about something old, something they've lived with for a while: suddenly overwhelming amounts of impressionism come out in the service of capturing the personality that's accreted around the words and performance. But we're really bad at talking about this stuff up-front, because there's no good recent history of doing it with rock music. I wish there were.

To be fair, I think critics are good at talking about these things when someone makes them an issue, when they're a big focal point (as they are in hip-hop, where you can't NOT get at them) -- but I feel like the toolkit for dealing with them in general is slightly lacking.

I'm not sure I see the same deficiencies in critical writing you do. Maybe that's where we disagree, 'cuz I agree in priciple with everything you just said.

FWIW, I do notice that fans fetishize certain lyrics/lyricists as poetry. Course, critics are often little more than fans with a bullhorn, so there's tons of thoughtless analysis out there. But for the most part, decent critics seem to pay fair attention to the relationship between the written lyric, the performance and the persona.

Or maybe I'm insufficiently demanding.

I'm pretty much in agreement with Nabisco here. Malkmus is the key for me - much as I loved Pavement's songs, I always dismissed the lyrics as just a grab-bag of words, not much thought or meaning behind them. I may or may not have been wrong - I think I was wrong, but that's beside the point. The delivery - and not just the delivery but how the whole package of words and music fits together - is at least as if not more important than the semantic content.

"The delivery - and not just the delivery but how the whole package of words and music fits together - is at least as if not more important than the semantic content."

But we're all saying that, Ledge - pretty much everybody who's contributed to the thread. As I understand it, nabisco is faulting conventional critical thought for failing to pay enough attention to the complexities, and I'm not sure about that.

I do see where problems can arise. For instance, I think Malkmus' best lyrics work beautifully as stand-alone poetry. Therefore, perhaps it's tempting in discussing them to oversimplify the way they actually function. Still, I'm not sure I see the big problem.

The literary aspect of the lyrics doesn't "matter" per se, but if the singer has nothing literary to say, nothing happens. It's a nasty little feedback loop: songwriting.

For example, Mark E. Smith. In very few of the songs do I know what he's talking about in any meaningful sense. That is, when it comes to the words, the song has no cohesiveness, no structural integrity. Nonetheless, he has said more than most other songwriters. And maybe one of those days, they'll all make sense. Why not? I know the Fall fanatics have certainly delved into it. Already, I'm thinking of exceptions to what I just said. "My New House," "Disney's Dream Debased," "Iceland," "Spoilt Victorian Child." Then again, I know I've read explanations for a lot more than these, but the supposed meanings didn't stick in my memory. The melodies and his voice do.

It <I>is</i> all about sound, and much like someone said here, I often only notice the lyrics when something that sounds stupid catches my attention. Still, a singing voice is making sounds that even if they're just sounds end up sounding like words, and if the singer has no words he wants to put out there in the form of a song, he isn't going to get far. Unless he wants just to do word-less experimental stuff and sound-poetry. Great!

Not to sound immodest or anything, but please read my essays on songwriting, sound-poetry, etc. at Sweet Pea Review.

well gee I guess I fucked up the html on "is." You get the point.