The Floating World: Nite And Fog
My maternal grandmother is very badly injured right now (stable but critical, last I heard). She had a pretty awful fall on Monday night, and tomorrow K. and Ben and I are driving down to Windsor to be with the rest of the family. All five of my grandmother's kids are in the same place for only the third time in about thirty years. That's how serious this is.
Now, this Floating World is one I had planned to do since before the inaugural column (I wanted to have a few ideas on reserve), but I had a really productive day today and need to do something so I don't get too upset, and this one feels strangely appropriate right now. I'll be mostly sticking to my original point, but if I wander a bit, or get sentimental, I'm sure you understand.
I love every Mercury Rev album I own unreservedly, except for All Is Dream. I own all of them but See You On The Other Side. There are some great songs on All Is Dream, and I'm still not sure if I want to get rid of it, but something always bugged me about it. I only figured it out recently: I hate the first four songs on it.
"The Dark Is Rising" is a fine song in isolation, if a bit bathetic, but the way the beginning of All Is Dream goes from that despair to the insanity and depression of "Tides Of The Moon" and "Chains", and then especially "Lincoln's Eyes", repels me. I hate the spectral falsetto Jonathan Donahue adopts for those last three songs. I hate the air of helplessness, of mental instability that pervades them because I don't want to validate or participate in them. I don't want this to happen to Jonathan, basically
Yes, Jonathan has always been a bit fraught (Deserter's Songs got their first airing to a wall because Jonathan didn't think anyone else would be interested in what he'd written), but the beginning of All Is Dream felt too much like a capitulation. Jonathan's given in, lost it, gone over the edge to Syd-Barrett-Land and is never coming back.
But then something happens. The sun comes out. And the sun, funnily enough, is called "Nite And Fog".
After the psychodrama of "Lincoln's Eyes" and the quiescent, bowed-saw interlude between tracks, this gentle keyboard part starts up, some form of instrument (a clarinet?) plays, and Joanthan sings:
If God moves across the water
The girl moves in other ways
And I'm losing sight of either
Night and fog are my days
You cannot believe what a smile this puts on my face. Now, the lyrics in a latter-day Mercury Rev song aren't nearly as important as the delivery. Yes, "Nite And Fog" is a tale of an extremely muddled man (Jonathan of course) admitting his problems, but he finally sounds okay. He sounds happy, the track burbles along happily, there's a great chorus (and just listen to the joy in his voice as he sings "But you want it all!" each time). The feeling that pervades, crucial after the incredibly troubling opening run of All Is Dream is that everything is going to be okay. Jonathan sounds healthy again. Note the last verse:
I hope you see your ship come in
May it find you and never lose its way
But I would make a poor captain
Night and fog are my days
He's saying, yes, I know I'm not all here all the time, I know I'm fragile and I'm working on it - it's okay. Don't rely on me - I'll be fine, and you'll be fine too.
Afterwards, and this is the reason I might keep All Is Dream, things stay basically that way. Yes, "Little Rhymes" and "Spiders And Flies" are more timid than the rest of the second half of the album, but you've got "A Drop In Time" ("Let the music play like you want it to / Let the sunshine light in your hair / Let the moonlight play at your feet like a babe / And softly linger there") and "Hercules" (a powerful enough end to require separate discussion) to counteract it. Crucially, even when he's sad again, Jonathan sounds like he's got it under control, like he's aware it's not some sort of defect or flaw and that it's not always like this. The beginning of the record made me fear the first time that I was witnessing a man lose his mind on record, but if he had a period like that (which is perfectly likely, and Jonathan did once say that the making of this record was filled with snakes), he's clearly recovered again, sanity and perspective intact.
I love "Nite And Fog" all on its own, it's a beautiful example of the gorgeous pop the latter-day Rev can make, but I love it most of all for its role on the album. Every time I play All Is Dream I sit through the songs I hate, because "Nite And Fog" has that much more impact. That powerful, purely emotional kind of reassurance is a beautiful thing. Jonathan's mental states are of course conjecture on my part, but if I'm right about anything I hope it's that the sense of well-being pervading "Nite And Fog" is real.
Now, this Floating World is one I had planned to do since before the inaugural column (I wanted to have a few ideas on reserve), but I had a really productive day today and need to do something so I don't get too upset, and this one feels strangely appropriate right now. I'll be mostly sticking to my original point, but if I wander a bit, or get sentimental, I'm sure you understand.
I love every Mercury Rev album I own unreservedly, except for All Is Dream. I own all of them but See You On The Other Side. There are some great songs on All Is Dream, and I'm still not sure if I want to get rid of it, but something always bugged me about it. I only figured it out recently: I hate the first four songs on it.
"The Dark Is Rising" is a fine song in isolation, if a bit bathetic, but the way the beginning of All Is Dream goes from that despair to the insanity and depression of "Tides Of The Moon" and "Chains", and then especially "Lincoln's Eyes", repels me. I hate the spectral falsetto Jonathan Donahue adopts for those last three songs. I hate the air of helplessness, of mental instability that pervades them because I don't want to validate or participate in them. I don't want this to happen to Jonathan, basically
Yes, Jonathan has always been a bit fraught (Deserter's Songs got their first airing to a wall because Jonathan didn't think anyone else would be interested in what he'd written), but the beginning of All Is Dream felt too much like a capitulation. Jonathan's given in, lost it, gone over the edge to Syd-Barrett-Land and is never coming back.
But then something happens. The sun comes out. And the sun, funnily enough, is called "Nite And Fog".
After the psychodrama of "Lincoln's Eyes" and the quiescent, bowed-saw interlude between tracks, this gentle keyboard part starts up, some form of instrument (a clarinet?) plays, and Joanthan sings:
If God moves across the water
The girl moves in other ways
And I'm losing sight of either
Night and fog are my days
You cannot believe what a smile this puts on my face. Now, the lyrics in a latter-day Mercury Rev song aren't nearly as important as the delivery. Yes, "Nite And Fog" is a tale of an extremely muddled man (Jonathan of course) admitting his problems, but he finally sounds okay. He sounds happy, the track burbles along happily, there's a great chorus (and just listen to the joy in his voice as he sings "But you want it all!" each time). The feeling that pervades, crucial after the incredibly troubling opening run of All Is Dream is that everything is going to be okay. Jonathan sounds healthy again. Note the last verse:
I hope you see your ship come in
May it find you and never lose its way
But I would make a poor captain
Night and fog are my days
He's saying, yes, I know I'm not all here all the time, I know I'm fragile and I'm working on it - it's okay. Don't rely on me - I'll be fine, and you'll be fine too.
Afterwards, and this is the reason I might keep All Is Dream, things stay basically that way. Yes, "Little Rhymes" and "Spiders And Flies" are more timid than the rest of the second half of the album, but you've got "A Drop In Time" ("Let the music play like you want it to / Let the sunshine light in your hair / Let the moonlight play at your feet like a babe / And softly linger there") and "Hercules" (a powerful enough end to require separate discussion) to counteract it. Crucially, even when he's sad again, Jonathan sounds like he's got it under control, like he's aware it's not some sort of defect or flaw and that it's not always like this. The beginning of the record made me fear the first time that I was witnessing a man lose his mind on record, but if he had a period like that (which is perfectly likely, and Jonathan did once say that the making of this record was filled with snakes), he's clearly recovered again, sanity and perspective intact.
I love "Nite And Fog" all on its own, it's a beautiful example of the gorgeous pop the latter-day Rev can make, but I love it most of all for its role on the album. Every time I play All Is Dream I sit through the songs I hate, because "Nite And Fog" has that much more impact. That powerful, purely emotional kind of reassurance is a beautiful thing. Jonathan's mental states are of course conjecture on my part, but if I'm right about anything I hope it's that the sense of well-being pervading "Nite And Fog" is real.
