Well, I tried to make it Sunday
I learned many things on my weekend.
First, I learned that you should always remember to bring your gloves when you go North to a place that is expecting cold weather. And wear blue jeans instead of light khaki pants.
Second, I learned that you can’t always trust a posted commuter train schedule. It’s not so much a matter of the trains running late as it is a matter of the city forgetting to post changes to the schedule – like moving back the time for the first train from 6 AM to 10.
Third, I learned that the “rhythm of the rails” really can put you to sleep. Unless the person behind you happens to be an exasperated businessman on a cel phone.
Fourth, I learned that just when you get used to a restaurant, they’ll try something (disastrously) new.
And, related to the fourth point, I learned my final lesson of the weekend. I already knew that there were people out there who felt compelled to mercilessly slaughter Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” – but never before had I witnessed a singer pimp-slapping “Sister Golden Hair.” And to do both in the same set – well, it damn near made my head explode.
A quick note on “Wish You Were Here” – there’s a big difference between playing a simplified version because you don’t have the fancy guitar work down and grabbing your axe, shouting, “I can play that,” and proceeding to make the audience’s ears bleed.
As for “Sister Golden Hair” –
Well, there’s no real simple way to express this.
First of all, whiny frat-boy singer-songwriter wannabe’s need not apply. John Mayer, at the very least, is capable of sounding halfway sincere a good ninety percent of the time. Just because you drop most of your consonants, draw out notes longer than is healthy, and interpret the heck out of a lyric, it doesn’t make you a sensitive, artistic soul. It makes you a poseur – and a poor one, at that.
Second, there’s more to interpreting a song than just looking at the lyrics. Let’s look at the lyrics to this song, shall we?
Well I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damn depressed
That I set my sights on Monday and I got myself undressed.
I ain’t ready for the altar, but I do agree there’s times
When a woman sure can be a friend of mine
Well, of course. That’s just written for crooning, self-indulgent poseurs who drop consonants like they’re on fire and turn lyrics into a hot, steaming mash of undefined vowels. I mean, it’s just another “I’m-in-pain-without-you-babe” song, right?
No, it’s not.
Well, I keep on thinkin’ ‘bout you, Sister Golden Hair surprise,
And I just can’t live without you; can’t you see it in my eyes?
I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find -
But it doesn’t mean you ain’t been on my mind.
Gee. You could certainly read the lyrics that way, couldn’t you?
Except that America didn’t perform the song that way. America performed “Sister Golden Hair” as an upbeat, poppy little number. Were they wrong to do that?
Of course not. First – it’s their song. Second – the light, upbeat context of the music changes the meaning of the lyrics entirely. Played dully, drearily, with dropped vowels and “soul” (to use the term loosely) applied in great greasy dollops, the song becomes yet another “I’m so sad” song. And not a particularly good one, at that.
“Sister Golden Hair” isn’t about the pain of separation. It’s about somebody who makes your life worth living. It’s about somebody whose mere presence makes you feel better. It isn’t a song about being so damned depressed on Sunday – it’s a song about looking forward to Monday. It isn’t a song about how much you regret being “too, too hard to find” – it’s a song about how the thought of this person is what keeps you going.
It’s a happy song. It may have lyrics that suggest otherwise, but those aren’t the lyrics that apply to the relationship in the song.
So, sound like you’re happy, dammit! Or, if you must re-interpret, at least stop mumbling and choking – it doesn’t make you sound sincere. It just makes you sound like you don’t speak the language.
There. I’ve been wanting to get that off my chest in public – I’m certain my friends and family are sick of hearing about it by now.
Oh, yeah. One more thing. Learn to end the song properly. That means learning to sing harmony. You know – that’s that thing what happens when you’re not too much of an egotist to share the mic with somebody else? Yeah. It’s a wonderful thing.