It sure sounds to me like this verse describes an elderly, infirm woman being abandoned in the woods. It also seems reminiscent of a folk tale, though I can’t point to a specific example. Folklore is rife with descriptions of euthanasia and geronticide, however, as this academic review makes clear
The narrator’s relationship to this “Angel” is not explained in detail and therefore left open to interpretation, but basically we have a fairly straightforward musical love letter—albeit one couched in plenty of self-deprecation.
I realize I may need to turn in my official Snobby Blogger membership card, but the iTunes play-count function doesn’t lie.
As related to Sean Nelson for a detailed article in the Seattle alt-weekly paper The Stranger, “My Mother Was a Chinese Trapeze Artist” was inspired by a particularly awful family canoe trip.
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.
Obviously, I’m not the first person to come up with the idea for a Rapture playlist, but I’ll take advantage of any opportunity to talk about what an awesome album “Bone Machine” is.
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.
Look, everybody! I got a comment from somebody who thinks I know something about William Butler Yeats, Greek mythology and The Decemberists
Hey, this Internet thing works after all. Someone out there in the inky void of cyberspace stumbled across my Decemberists Glossary and posted a comment…
These are the posts where I gush about some song that I’ve got a huge crush on at the moment, and you put up with…
This has been a week for expanding the ol’ vocabulary, because I’ve been listening to the new album by The Decemberists on a constant loop—or…