The lyrics are impressionistic, aside from a clear, early reference to the victims of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius—a tragedy that may or may not keep coming up throughout the song and may or may not serve as a stand-in for the tragedy of 9/11. Who knows? The meaning of a dream is rarely overt. More likely, you’re left with just the feelings it inspired—and everyone you describe it to is going to have a different interpretation.
Now, my knowledge of firearms is limited at best, but I do know this: You load shotgun cartridges with rock salt, not rifles. (At least I’m pretty sure, based on 30 minutes of research and a few Tarantino movies.)
Perhaps no band’s lyrics better lend themselves to pseudo-academic analysis than those of The Decemberists. The Annotated Decemberists is an attempt to puzzle through the Portland, Oregon,…
Perhaps no band’s lyrics better lend themselves to pseudo-academic analysis than those of The Decemberists. The Annotated Decemberists is an attempt to puzzle through the Portland, Oregon,…
The sixth and final entry from The Decemberists’ debut EP, Five Songs. Yes, you read that right. There are six songs on Five Songs.
In his typical, understated fashion, The Decemberists’ songwriter Colin Meloy has said little about this ballad other than, “This is a song about a gypsy.” In it, a dejected narrator pines over a young carny with tan skin, vintage footwear and strangely bewitching eyes.
I don’t want to dwell too much on the song’s title because it might just be a pretty word, but there’s something odd about trying to get someone to come “oceanside” when they’re already at the beach.