Some Songs Considered

“Gloria (In Excelsis Deo / Gloria (Version))” – Patti Smith
(Words/music: Patti Smith and Van Morrison, available on Horses, Arista 1975)

Someone reading about “Gloria” without ever hearing it would imagine that Patti Smith delivers the opening line to the song through clenched teeth.  Instead, one of the first recorded artifacts of the New York punk rock scene begins closer to a whisper than a scream.  Smith lets out her signature line with a measured pace and restrained tone.  It’s not as angst-ridden or sensationalist as it is a statement of the facts.  After all, she’s not denying religion – she’s just saying that it’s not her thing.

Even if this is the most famous line in her song (only rivaled by the hook in “Because the Night”), it’s not her thesis statement.  That comes late on in the verse when she goes a step further, declaring that her sins “belong to me.”  Until this point, Smith continues with the restrained tone of her first few lines until she reaches this declaration.  When she repeats the word “me,” she lingers and sneers at it, letting the note bend slightly.  This is the moment where Smith picks up, letting the swagger in her voice take over as the song crescendos head-on into Van Morrison’s “Gloria.” As the song progresses, Smith’s narrator takes the ownership of her sins as empowerment, fusing a sense of action and control with the sexual energy in Morrison’s original.   By the end of the song (and the return of that infamous first line), Smith’s persona becomes fully formed.  The measured pace of the opening gives way to Smith’s surrealist, self-empowered narrator.  Rather than take her cues from anyone else (the Divine included), Smith’s persona acts on her own accord, bending the will of others (or others’ songs) to fit her own vision.

More on Patti Smith: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Because the Night” – 10,000 Maniacs
(Words/music: Patti Smith and Bruce Springsteen, available on MTV Unplugged, Elektra 1993)

If it didn’t carry such a specific connotation, I’d declare “Because the Night” my favorite power ballad.  Springsteen and Smith play off their mutual strengths, specifically their flair for the dramatic and their unconventionally powerful voices.  “Because the Night” starts with a bittersweet piano line and gives the impression of a lonely piano feature before swelling and taking on the power of the full band.  Appropriately, both Springsteen and Smith take their vocal cues from their arrangement; by the end of the song, both Smith and Springsteen emote the same passion and desperation as their lyrics.  It’s this same quality that makes the 10,000 Maniacs version work for me.  Natalie Merchant has her opportunity to step into the spotlight and plays up her strengths as a vocalist.  That’s not to shortchange her band (who create a wonderful arrangement behind her, managing to elicit the necessary energy out of the unplugged arrangement), but this is Merchant’s moment in the spotlight (and let’s be honest, that’s the reason she’s the focal point in the cover photo).  Like Springsteen and Smith, Merchant builds up to her emotional climax; while she doesn’t have the same power as the other two, she compensates with the sweet sincerity in her voice.

Merchant’s version, like the original Smith version and the Springsteen version on the Live 1975 – 1985 box, climaxes during the bridge.  If the verses laid out the protagonist’s desire for her lover, the bridge drives home the extent of her longing.  Appropriately, this is the musical turning point as well as the song builds in the final few bars.  Merchant’s voice cracks slightly on the second “take me now,” and rather than feel like a bad note it almost sounds like she’s getting choked up.  Whether it’s a bit of acting or an authentic moment of emotion, it only underscores the intensity of the moment.

More on 10,000 Maniacs: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“People Who Died” – Jim Carroll Band
(Words/music: Jim Carroll, available on Catholic Boy, Atco 1980)

I envisioned this blog as an opportunity to discuss songs and my relationship with them, so this is not the place for me to eulogize Jim Carroll. To be honest, Carroll’s death saddened me mainly because I know a lot of people who loved his work, in particular The Basketball Diaries, and will consider this death a personal blow. I only mention it because the touching tributes around the web pointed me back toward “People Who Died,” a song I haven’t heard in years and hadn’t thought about in almost the same amount of time.

Most of the tributes characterized Carroll as a “punk poet” – a writer who tried his hand at music the way other writers adapt a new genre. I’ve heard the term attached to people like Patti Smith (who described Carroll as “pretty much universally recognized as the best poet of his generation” in the New York Times obituary) but thought of it as a stopgap term – the way to describe someone who dabbled in the spirit of punk rock and approached songwriting with a literary eye. I’m skeptical to call a poet playing punk rock a “punk poet” – as it seems too tidy. However, hearing “People Who Died” now after being introduced to it on VH-1 Classic a few years back, Carroll’s song embodies the spirit of both punk and poetry. Poetry has this stigma of being dense and unapproachable, but just as often a writer will compose something that looks simple (at least on the outside) as the best way to communicate an idea. Specifically, a trashing punk song doesn’t provide the optimal ground for a web of complex imagery (at least usually), and Carroll seems to understand this about the medium. Rather than get bogged down in details, he presents his “poem,” (if you want to call it that) as a series of images bombarding his audience. It creates the same effect as elaborately lurid details, except using bodycount rather than gore to elicit shock. The stories fly by too fast before Carroll and his band describe them in a droll and deadpan way in the chorus, perhaps as a commentary to those who turn a blind eye to the casualties of drug abuse. The sing-songy chorus and blank faced descriptions give “People Who Died” the same feel as an Edward Gorey painting – simple on the outside and subversive right below the surface.

More on Jim Carroll: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm