Cheery Songs About Unintended Pregnancies #1: Michael Jackson--"Wanna Be Startin' Something"

One of the ways I avoided doing schoolwork back in high school and university was coming up with lists of songs that shared the same hilarious theme. I tried a few with various degrees of success, the most successful of which was, as the title of this post demonstrates, cheery songs about unintended pregnancies. Now, while I don't hold either the cheeriness or the unintendedness to too strict a standard, in general I look for songs with a fair amount of dissonance between form (cheeriness) and content (unintended pregnancy). I don't necessarily have a lot to say about some of these songs, the dissonance is usually enough, but if I have any additional commentary I will undoubtedly share it.

The first one on my list (there's no particular order to it) is Michael Jackson's "Wanna Be Startin' Something."


Formally I know the song is not exactly cheery, its more supremely groovin' than anything, but I for one think that's good enough, after all, it isn't slow, meandering and depressive. In terms of the lyrical content of the song, I'm not going to hazard a guess at what all of it is about and how much of it fits together, but the following lyrics are pretty clear about what you shouldn't be starting if you aren't ready for it (hint: its a baby)

If You Cant Feed Your Baby (Yeah, Yeah)
Then Don't Have A Baby (Yeah, Yeah)
And Don't Think Maybe (Yeah, Yeah)
If You Can't Feed Your Baby (Yeah, Yeah)
You'll Be Always Tryin'
To Stop That Child From Cryin'
Hustlin', Stealin', Lyin'
Now Baby's Slowly Dyin'

I don't think there's much more I can say about this; it seems like pretty good advice.

Misrecognitions: The Posies--"Pay You Back in Time"

I posted the lyrics to The Posies song "Pay You Back in Time" for more than just altruistic reasons, although I certainly do want to spread the word about the band I consider to be one of the best out there. I first read about them on Wilson and Alroy's review page years ago when I was trying to broaden my musical horizons. I dug the songs of theirs I could get a hold of at the time, but it took a few years (and exposure to "Amazing Disgrace," which is the best album I know of) to really get to know The Posies. I couldn't agree more with what W & A say about "Amazing Disgrace," it is a 15-track tour de force in every respect. Anyway, I do want to promote The Posies, especially since they are so criminally underrecognized, but really you will see me return to them over and over again because I just can't help wanting to write about their work. I find it incredibly compelling, especially the "inscrutable lyrics are loaded with poetic allusions and head-spinning wordplay" that W & A give the nod to.

Speaking of "Amazing Disgrace," I believe that "Pay You Back in Time" is a demo that The Posies recorded during (or in and around) the recording sessions for "Amazing Disgrace." ("At Least, At Last," the compilation it can be found on dates it in the 1993-1994 time period, which is after "Frosting on the Beater" and quite a bit before "Amazing Disgrace," and there are lots of tracks from the latter on it such as "Daily Mutilation," "World," "Throwaway," "Everybody is a F*cking Liar," and "Fight It.") Anyway, the "academic" details of dating the recording aside, the interesting thing about this track, as its title suggests, is that it is about debt, and more particularly, the position of being in debt to someone and the attempt to get out of it. In a lot of ways this makes it the sister song to "Please Return It," which is also primarily concerned with being in an unbalanced relationship with another person.

What is particularly interesting about "Pay You Back in Time" (PYBT) is the way that the ambiguity of the very last line in the very last verse (not counting the refrain)throws the meaning of the rest of the song into doubt. The line, which is really quite stunning, is as follows: "All those lies that I told you, they must have been true." The song is torn between the potential ways of resolving the contradiction expressed by those "lies" turning out to be true.

The situation captured by the song is one of a fundamental misrecognition wherein what had seemed to be a pack of lies turns out to be the truth, but the question is, whose lies, and what is being misrecognized?

The song begins with the speaker (I guess I should say singer, but I'm so used to writing about literature, poetry in particular, the I'll stick with speaker) proclaiming that he never got to tell his side of the story because he lost contact with the person he is addressing (some former beloved judging by the reference to "love" in the second verse). The reason for this communication breakdown seems to be that other people were telling lies about the speaker and his intentions concerning whatever mysterious transgression or debt that needs to be paid back:


Well, they never let you know;
All they filled [you in with] was blanks.
As the distance and time will show,
All they protected you from was my thanks.
And you never took the call
That I placed to explain it,
Explain it all.

The most straightforward reading of the song's final line takes it as a reference to this initial situation. When the speaker first promised to pay the debt back, to make good on it, we can assume that all those people said that he never really had any intention of doing so. The claim that "I'll pay you back in time" may have been branded a lie, but by the end of the song when everyone but the speaker has abandoned this figure (the beloved debt-collector), it turns out to be true.

Now, this explanation is a pretty good one, and the story it tells is plenty interesting, especially with the devastating lines littered about the song, such as this one describing the sense of being in someone's debt: "Well, they say it never rests, like the sun on an empire in distress." Plus, it does make this last line into a minor triumph for the speaker, a final vindication of the truth of his love and character.

So why do I have to worry about alternatives? Well, I'm a cynical man and have known enough flaky people in my day to know that a lot of promises are cheaply held, and the more time people spend saying "I'll pay you back" the less time the spend actually doing it. So, while I think it

From this perspective the first verse, which I've quoted above, sounds a lot like the indignant protests of someone who resents being being in debt, and the blow to his self-esteem that it represents. The claim to be able to "explain it all" is the desire to see one's actions as justified, to somehow remove or mitigate the culpability of the debt or transgression, or at least the sense of responsibility that attends it. Explanation here is essentially an attempt to lessen the sense of indebtedness by means other than paying it back.

However cynical this may appear, this perspective actually makes the final line more interesting. If the speaker does by whatever turn of events end up being the only person left with the (ex)beloved, then, rather than a story of steadfast commitment it becomes a story of unexpected and perhaps unintended, reconciliation. Instead of the (ex)beloved misrecognizing the intentions and character of the speaker, the speaker actually misrecognizes his own character. What to the speaker had always been a self-serving lie, "I'll pay you back in time," becomes, by a simple twist of fate, the truth as he finds himself in the unexpected position of being able and willing to pay it back.

What is so interesting about this? Well, according to this reading the moral of this story is that we often only really know our own intentions and character retrospectively. We often tell lies about ourselves that turn out to be true, partially because we have told those lies long enough that we started to believe them, but also because we might not know enough about ourselves beforehand to know if they are really lies since our character and our actions are not exhausted by our explicit intentions. Now, perhaps I am misrecognizing this song in this way because I find this thought deeply satisfying, explaining as it does so many of the strange twists and turns of life, but it is certain that I only recognized this retrospectively.

The Posies--"Pay You Back in Time" (Lyrics)

Below are the lyrics to The Posies song "Pay You Back in Time." I am posting the lyrics rather than a link to a recording of the song because it never made it past the demo stage and is only collected on "At Least, At Last," which means there are no easily available versions online. You can find a copy to preview for about 45s here, but otherwise there's not much out there. This also means that the transcription of the lyrics is also my own, so I take full credit for any errors. Lastly, in terms of errors, any words I am unsure of I have placed in brackets.

Well, they never let you know;
All they filled [you in with] was blanks.
As the distance and time will show,
All they protected you from was my thanks.
And you never took the call
That I placed to explain it,
Explain it all.

I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time,
What you gave to me.

Well, they say it never rests,
Like the sun on an empire in distress.
And they say all love [needs tests],
But I think we've fulfilled that request.
Now, just let me catch my breath...

I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time,
What you gave to me.

It's beneficial to both sides
We acknowledge the [work] we've both done.
It's better not to become what we hate
Or hate what we've become.

I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time,
What you gave to me.

Well, they really took the cake
When they left you alone,
Now, what a mistake.
Now you're taking it all in.
So you started with nothing,
Well, better to begin.
Well, just look who's here with you,
All those lies that I told you,
They must have been true.

I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time,
What you gave to me.

I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time.
I'll pay you back in time,
What you gave to me.

Keyboard Reform

All you diligent grammarians out there, I'm sure you are dismayed by the doubled hyphens that I am using to separate the artist's name from their song's name rather than an em-dash. I too regret this. Word will turn doubled-hyphens into em-dashes most of the time, but it would be nice if there were a proper key for the em-dash. Because of this I fully support the proposals for keyboard reform put forth by this Slate article (especially getting rid of CAPS LOCK, which makes an already too-easy thing as being an asshole on the internet even easier).

Equi-vocals: Big Star--"The Ballad of El Goodo"

In the spirit of punning as well as the desire to sometimes only focus on a few lines of a song rather than the whole thing, I will be characterizing posts with a narrow focus upon an ambiguous line or two, as "Equi-vocals."

I am starting off with Big Star's "The Ballad of El Goodo" because the sheer insistence of this song's refrain has always drawn my attention to it, and to the question of just what lies behind it.



This line, "And there ain't no one gonna turn me 'round/ Ain't no one gonna turn me 'round," embodies the spirit of opposition and independence that the song is all about. The question that this insistent line prompts, however, is the meaning of this opposition. On the one hand, "Ain't no one gonna turn me 'round'" sounds like a cry of an individual determined not to let anything stop him, which would make this song a kind of celebration about the kind of person who can resist the temptation to just be like one of the crowd, or the masses. But on the other hand, this line could also reflect a kind of insane recognition that one has gone too far, that,consumed by the spirit of opposition one is beyond all help and there is no turning back from the looming abyss.

This song's glorious melodies and overall triumphant sound certainly suggest that the former is the better interpretation, but I still can't shake the sense that the latter lurks beneath the surface. I am reminded of Aristotle's saying early on in Book One of the Politics, that "he who is unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast or a god: he is no part of a state." Even if this song is about resolute opposition to all of the powers that will "zip you up and dress you down and stand you in a row," there is nevertheless still a point at which that opposition can go too far and become madness, a denial of one's own humanity.

The Perils of Indeterminateness Part One: James Blunt--"You're Beautiful"

Ok, so as a change of pace after the earnestness of the Fleet Foxes I have decided to pick on some terrible music. Now, while the pace may change the issue at stake will not: just like the first verse of "Helplessness Blues," the songs I will deal with here are all about indeterminacy and vagueness. However, while "Helplessness Blues" deals with indeterminacy, these songs deal in it. But hey, there's nothing like the levity that comes from criticizing the ineptness of others to ease thoughts of the predicament of modernity.

Anyway, first up on the chopping block is a song that oozed steadily from the radio a few years ago, James Blunt's "You're Beautiful." To be blunt (I'm sure that joke's been overused, but he's all about overuse, over-emoting, and overkill so it's fitting), this song is about as beautiful as a Hallmark card. But then again, it is designed to appeal to people for whom bland simplicity and sentimentality are the hallmarks of beauty (clearly a different kind of terrible beauty than Yeats' kind). I've included the version with lyrics so you can gaze at them and tremble, mortal.



Now, just as the bizarre mixture of childishness and adult sexuality in Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" made for a telling if probably unintended example of the unthinking sexualization of young children, the fit between form and content in "Beautiful" is likewise unintentionally apt. The shallowness of this song, musically and lyrically is only matched by the shallowness of its theme: love at first (and only) sight.

Skipping past the less than brilliant opening, the first verse chronicle's the singer's encounter on the subway with a woman:

My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

This verse perfectly illustrates why I am suspicious of claims of love at first sight. The "purity" of the love involved here is the purity of nothingness (or pure horse shit). After all, what basis is there for this outpouring of song? Nothing but a brief smile, which I am inclined to think was more a social nicety (or an awkward reaction, since "She could see from my face that I was, Flying/Fucking high," and there's nothing sexier than drug-addled creep leering at you on the subway) than a come hither stare. The love on display here is unrelated to everything actually important about this woman (who she is, what she's actually like, or what she thinks and feels, for instance) other than her beauty. But this beauty--and this is where the significance of this post's title kicks in--is itself utterly meaningless and empty. The problem with "beautiful" is that it the way it is used here it is really more of an evaluative rather than a descriptive term, i.e., it tells us less about the object than the speaker's relation to the object. That relation is extremely tenuous (and maybe a little creepy as well) so we are left with a love song that, like most love songs, is mostly about the shallow ego of its singer. The best he can come up with is to describe her as an angel, but that only works since there is really nothing human about her so she might as well be some kind of imaginary/mythological figure.

So, rather than being romantic this song is actually quite misogynistic in the way that it reduces her to an occasion to fantasize. The indeterminacy of "you're beautiful" means that it ends up being an insult instead of a compliment.

Fleet Foxes - "Helplessness Blues" (Part Two)

So, with the rejection of the empty uniqueness of a pure and "heroic" individualism, the exploration of what other conceptions of the self continues. The "cog in a machine" approach is abandoned not just because of the vagueness evident in its introduction, but because of its determinism and the loss of freedom that that entails.

To illustrate this the next lines explore the idea of a "cog in the machine" by referencing its closest historical analogue in the questions

"What’s my name?
What’s my station?
Oh just tell me what I should do."

The notion of an identity (a name) and a role (a station) that is dictated by some kind of social hierarchy is, of course, an old idea. The cohesion of feudal and tribal societies, for instance, is owed largely to such structures. Against the cold, disenchanted and alienated backdrop of modernity, it may be comforting to hearken back to the time when someone could "just tell me what I should do" and for that to be in itself authoritative.

Part of what I admire about this song is the way that it can entertain these kinds of tempting positions (even if only in the space of a line or two) without embracing them as an easy way out. The song quickly shows why the "cog in a machine"/"tell me what I should do" kind of submission to some kind of external influence is not a viable option:

"I don’t need to be kind to the armies of night
who would do such injustice to you.
Or bow down and be grateful,
and say ‘Sure take all that you see,'
to the men who move only in dimly lit halls
and determine my future for me."

Exactly what injustice is being referred to is not clear, but the idea surely is. While I may have associated this "cog"/"hierarchy" with older values and social structures, that is not to say that it is by any means confined to the past. At the beginning of my previous post I mentioned the sense in which the Fleet foxes are continuing the Folk movement's tradition of protesting injustice, and we can certainly recognize this kind of injustice in the 2008 sub-prime mortgage crisis (and subsequent recession). The moral of this story for any age, then, is that to simply surrender your autonomy along with your individuality is risk losing everything.

What is the answer then? The closest thing to one comes with the second half of the song, which is marked by a distinct change from the strident tempo of the first part to a much warmer, majestically sprawling sound. This difference in sound, from one of searching to one of celebration, reverence, satisfaction, certainly suggests a more tenable position. This position is marked in particular by the replacement of the cog/machine imagery with the organic figure of tending to an orchard:

"If I had an orchard
I'd work till I'm raw.

If I had an orchard
I'd work till I'm sore.

And you would wait tables
and soon run the store.

Gold hair in the sunlight,
my light in the dawn.

If I had an orchard
I'd work till I'm sore."

What works here is clearly the suggestive difference between the cog/machine relationship and the orchardist/orchard. The orchardist (I know it's an awkward word, but what else is there?) is active and self-determining in a way that the cog clearly is not, yet that actively is circumscribed by that of the orchard itself. The reciprocity to be had in this situation is clearly preferably to its lack in either of the initial options provided by the song.

There is a similar movement encapsulated in the lines about waiting tables and then running the store, where the trend is to go from some kind of servitude to autonomy. I am a little dubious about this side of it, however, because the job waiting tables seems like something necessitated by the move to the orchards in the first place. That certainly might mitigate the satisfaction to be had from finally running the store (I speak from experience here).

But of course it is important to keep in mind that this whole section and the kind of reconciliation that it represents, as beautiful as it is, operates under the auspices of a series of "ifs." The beauty of this section is the beauty of a dream or a wish. It is for this reason that I don't want to be too harsh on this section. Normally, as someone who spent a very long and painful week raking blueberries, and who has known plenty of farmers, I am more than a little wary of any attempt to romanticize the kind of backbreaking labour that goes with farming. The persistent recognition that there is a tremendous amount of ache and soreness to that life tempers this, but even more importantly I think that the emphasis on soreness is a measure of the difficulty of the reconciliation projected here. Indeed, this reconciliation might only be possible in a dream, or a work of art like a song, or a movie, as the last line of the song suggests: "Some day I'll be like the man on the screen..."