U2 Explains My World, Part 2

The Fly
Falling. The Fly picks up where So Cruel left off, with a deeper affection and appreciation replacing the original infatuation, and the new love replacing the old ("They say the sun is sometimes eclipsed by the moon / You know I don't see you when she walks in the room"). Some interesting thoughts about how romantic failures and successes are relatively alike to artists in that they are both inspiration ("Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief / All kill their inspiration and sing about their grief"). The main image, of course, is the metaphor of relationships as shooting stars, burning bright and inevitably falling into darkness ("Love / we shine like a burning star / we're falling from the sky"), and yet, even knowing this, the singer is powerless to prevent it; it is questionable whether or not he would even if he could. Perhaps all relationships are doomed to failure eventually, but that does not mean we shouldn't ever try. Indeed, it is the trying that is most beautiful and admirable about humanity.

Mysterious Ways
U2's version of She's Got a Way. Who can truly say what it is about people that attracts us to them? To be sure, there are any number of characteristics that people find attractive that they can all reel off as the things they look for. But when it comes right down to it, there is one extra thing that most (if not all) people look for, that undefinable spark, similar to the "it" factor that Hollywood stars have which separates them from people who are good, great or even brilliant actors (Tom Cruise is a star. Kevin Kline is a brilliant actor). There is an element of redemption and self-validation which people find in relationships, even knowing that they shouldn't, that such things are ephemeral and ultimately self-destructive ("She's the wave / she turns the tide / she sees the man inside the child"). Perhaps it isn't even so much that, it's revelling in the feeling of rediscovery, of being found again by someone you really wanted to find you, someone you were hoping could and would find you.

Tryin' to Throw Your Arms Around the World
Ever experience one of those magical days with someone that never seems to end, where the two of you walk and talk and sit in silence and it just goes on and on; you finally say goodbye, the sun is out and you feel drained and elated, happy and fulfilled? That is what this song captures. It also happens to be the source of one of the best lyrics about women ever ("A woman needs a man / like a fish needs a bicycle"). Note there's no corresponding lyric about how badly a man needs a woman. There is, I think, an incredible respect for women layered into this song, a sense that the woman has it all together and the man is playing catchup ("I'm gonna run to you / run to you / run to you / woman be still"). I don't know that I would go that far; women are not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. But I have an immense respect and love for women, who put up with so many extra societal pressures that men will never have to deal with and will never really be able to understand.

Ultraviolet (Light My Way)
Expanding on the redemptive power of relationships touched on in The Fly ("Sometimes I feel like I don't know / Sometimes I feel like checkin out / I wanna get it wrong / can't always be strong / and love it won't be long"). The best relationships are ones of mutual support, where love is given and received freely. And it is difficult, when both people have have been hurt in the past, to be able to find that, to find an unselfish, caring relationship ("You bury your treasure / where it can't be found / But your love is like a secret / that's been passed around / There is a silence / that comes to a house / where no-one can sleep / I guess that's the price of love / I know it's not cheap"). Building a mutual relationship is difficult, it is possibly the most difficult endeavor that people can embark upon, because it never ends. Businesses can be sold, careers can be brought to a conclusion, children can grow old and become independent, but your partner will require a new reaffirmation from you every morning, every evening and 100 times in between. And I don't say that to mean they literally will require it of you; rather, it is the relationship itself which requires that level of commitment. The power of a mutual relationship (lacking the unequal distribution of power which characterizes many or most relationships) comes at a heavy price; you will sacrifice your pride, your dignity and your self-control. But you can gain more than you ever thought possible.

Acrobat
Interestingly enough, Acrobat begins to bring us back where we started this album. It's about what happens when the first blush of infatuation begins to fade, when things start faltering ("When I first met you girl / you had fire in your soul / what happened; your face of melting snow"). In most relationships, the first hurdles are big ones, because they'll set the tone for how the rest of the relationship will go. When things get difficult, it is tempting (for me, at least) to try even harder to fix them, to make things right ("I must be / an acrobat / to talk like this / and act like that"). But there are also some things you can't fix, no matter how hard you try. People don't need saving, they don't need fixing; people are beautiful and terrible precisely because they are broken; we are all broken, and making our way as best as we can.

Love is Blindness
So we've gone a whole album talking about relationships and somehow have avoided any specific paens on the nature of love itself. Bam! Love is blindness, yes, but not simply physical blindness; love is also emotional and mental blindness. It has to be, when all your past relationships have ended in failure, in order for you to believe that this, this one is more real, is different, will be different because you will make it so. Are we ever right? I like to think sometimes, people do manage it, but I can't honestly say.

What originally started me writing this was noticing how so many of the songs seemed to speak to me, wondering what sort of unconscious effect listening to the album during those years might have had. What sort of a person might I be if I'd grown up listening to The Clash or Songs of Leonard Cohen instead? Is that why people identify so strongly with music, use it to define themselves and even use it to rule out potential mates? Is that last part even true; if someone was absolutely perfect but liked some godawful music, would you tell them to hit the road? Or is a similar taste in music contingent to being considered perfect?

Probably the latter. Perhaps the reason why music is so intrinsic to people's lives is because they make themselves resemble the music they love as children, they shape themselves to fit the longing strains and crashing choruses which give meaning to otherwise difficult and non-soundtracked lives.

U2 Explains My World

Actung Baby was the first album I ever bought and listened a lot of, and I've been listening to it a lot lately. A lot of the songs tend to deal with relationships, and it's rather disconcerting to find that many of the songs seem to speak to experiences and perspectives which I have or had at some time or another. To wit:

Zoo Station
So Zoo Station is about a relationship, but one that can't quite solidify, one where one of the people is ready (or professes to be, at least), but for one reason or another, the other is not (in terms of the song, or more specifically in terms of the context of the album and the songs which follow, I think it's because the other person is actually a past lover who has already moved on. But more on that in the next blurb). Oddly enough, all of the relationships I've ever been in have always begun under difficult circumstances in some way or another, some sort of distance, either emotional or physical. I've never been quite sure if this has just been luck of the draw, or whether I seek such relationships out, whether the necessity of pursuit is itself what draws me to certain people and relationships. It isn't really a good thing, I don't think, but if I'm being honest with myself it is a trend that does pop out.

Even Better Than the Real Thing
A hookup with the past; possibly even breakup sex. If Zoo Station is about a person still emotionally attached to a relationship while the other has moved on, then EBTtRT is about the desire, when you've been broken up with, to go back to those feelings you once had, to the relationship which was once fulfilling and to make it, for one brief, delusional moment, real again ("You're the real thing / Even better than the real thing"). Now, I've had breakup sex, but I didn't realize it was breakup sex. So there I am, doing my normal thing and thinking everything is fine, when in actuality it was some sort of bullshit pity fuck. Which is fine, but have the decency to let me know that's what it is so I can treat is as such, y'know? I've never had ex-sex, which is probably for the best since I don't think it's a great thing to dabble with; there are just too many (re)attachments which can be inadvertently made.

One
The fallout of a relationship. I think of One as the first meeting after a breakup ("Is it getting better / or do you feel the same? / Will it make it easier on you, now / you got someone to blame?"), when both sides are kind of feeling each other out; there's so much emotional baggage that needs to be dealt with, so many questions and so many fears that need to be worked out before two people can return to any kind of a friendship (and that assumes that both people want to remain friends - I suppose sometimes you just want that person completely out of your life). Interestingtly enough, I don't think the overall message of One is that of communication; I think part of the point of the song is that there are some things that shouldn't be said, that support and (platonic) love can be given without needing to go over every single individual hurt and slight. This mirrors the end of the biggest relationship of my life, one which I still have some lingering questions about, but those questions aren't really important anymore. What is important is that we met, fell in love, grew together, grew apart and then moved on, both the better for having known each other, and both with one more person in our lives to help carry our load.

Until the End of the World
Similar to One. After any breakup there is bitterness, there is anger, there is the sense that you will never be able to escape from all these horrible feelings you're having ("In my dream I was drowning my sorrows / But my sorrows, they learned to swim") and there is the sense of betrayal, which lingers after the end of any emotional attachment ("Waves of regret, waves of joy / I reached out for the one I tried to destroy / You, you said you'd wait till the end of the world").

Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses
When you're trying to move on, trying to get past the big relationships of your life, one of the things that often makes it even more difficult is the elimination of someone who used to be such a huge part of your life, someone you could be silly and wise with, someone you could sit and watch kiddie cartoons with while expounding on the workings of political economy, someone you felt comfortable sharing your deepest fears and insecurities with. Suddenly that person is gone, but they're not - they're still the same person, just the terms of your relationship have changed. It's inevitable to feel a bit of sadness and anger knowing that you will be replaced in that respect, but you also realize that at the same time, no matter who replaces you it will not, can not and should not be the same as the relationship she and you shared ("Who's gonna ride your wild horses / Who's gonna tame the heart of thee").

So Cruel
So Cruel is about falling for someone again, after having been through the emotional wringer at least once before. You've been hurt, you've poured yourself into something only to see it fail, and then someone comes along who makes you forget all that, who makes you drop your guard, for whatever reason; it's also about taking that next step again, beyond casual infatuation ("We crossed the line / who pushed who over"). I think it might even be about a morning-after experience ("Oh love / to stay with you I'd be a fool"). The object of the song is a woman who is attractive precisely because she isn't tied down ("The men who love you, you hate the most / they pass right through you, like a ghost / they look for you but your spirit is in the air"), because she can't be pinned down, and for a person who's spent a good amount of time working at a relationship, such relative freedom is very attractive. It isn't a question of wanting to tie that person down or make them yours, it's more wanting to feel that way yourself, seeking a relationship where there is passion and emotion but not in a stifling sense, learning how to rewrite all your preconceived notions about relationships ("Oh love / you say in love there are no rules"). I think in your early relationships you try so hard to make them perfect; you're always rushing here and there, spending emotional energy to please your partner and driving them away with your excessive attention. As you get older you realize that relationships should, in fact, be partnerships, that what is most beautiful about a relationship is the choice made by both parties involved to remain together, that it is not about obligation and responsibility or convincing someone to stay with you, but about a choice made every minute of every day. This, Tryin' to Throw Your Arms Around the World and Ultraviolet (Light My Way) are my favorite songs off the album.

Phew. I guess I didn't really delve as much into personal details, but I assume some things are self-evident from the way I interpreted some of the songs. I am, of course, only half through the album - I'll do the other half tomorrow, this is getting way long.