Lately I've been on a little bit of a folk/indie kick. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but the truth of the matter is that this music generally accompanies a slightly less bubbly version of myself. I might compare it to white-hot embers instead of an open flame. Just as intense, but not nearly as asphyxiating to look at. I think my mood (like everything else in life) must just come and go in waves as well.
I've been telling people to listen to this song at every opportunity for the last couple weeks. I think that it's written better than almost anything I've ever heard in my life. Most of the time, I feel like an artist either has a talent for the music itself, or for the poetry they put to the music, but very rarely do they have an equal inclination for both. Ray LaMontagne, in my experience, is one of the the few.
The music in itself is written in such a dissonant way that you already feel the incompleteness of the song before you ever hear the lyrics. Add that to the airy, haunting quality of Ray's voice, and the exquisitely heartbroken lyrics and you're in store for one hell of a song.
I was particularly smitten by the last verse of this song. It's always fascinating to listen to people who've struggled their way through life talk. I've always been of the opinion that the things they have to say hold a little bit more weight then the statements of someone that's floated their way through nearly everything. I love a story with a scar behind it, and that's exactly the impression that I get listening to this verse. "i've been to hell and back so many times, I must admit, you kind of bore me."
I also feel a strange connection to the lyrics "I never learned to count my blessings, I choose instead to dwell in my disasters." Maybe it's just because they're so rad I want to write on them on the back of every dirty car I see, I'm uncertain. But rest assured that I will now be certain to count my blessings.
Ladies and gentlemen, Empty by Ray LaMontagne.
She lifts her skirt up to her knees
Walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing
And I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell in my disasters
Walk on down the hill
Through grass grown tall and brown
And still it's hard somehow to let go of my pain
On past the busted back
of that old and rusted Cadillac
That sinks into this field collecting rain
Will I always feel this way ‒
So empty, so estranged?
And of these cut-throat busted sunsets,
these cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary
If through my cracked and dusted dime-store lips
I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me?
Lay your blouse across the chair,
Let fall the flowers from your hair
And kiss me with that country mouth so plain.
Outside the rain is tapping on the leaves
To me it sounds like they're applauding us,
The quiet love we've made.
Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?
Well, I looked my demons in the eyes
laid bare my chest, said "Do your best, destroy me.
You see, I've been to hell and back so many times,
I must admit you kind of bore me."
There's a lot of things that can kill a man
There's a lot of ways to die
Yes, and some already dead that walk beside me
There's a lot of things I don't understand
Why so many people lie
Well, it's the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me
Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?
Walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing
And I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell in my disasters
Walk on down the hill
Through grass grown tall and brown
And still it's hard somehow to let go of my pain
On past the busted back
of that old and rusted Cadillac
That sinks into this field collecting rain
Will I always feel this way ‒
So empty, so estranged?
And of these cut-throat busted sunsets,
these cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary
If through my cracked and dusted dime-store lips
I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me?
Lay your blouse across the chair,
Let fall the flowers from your hair
And kiss me with that country mouth so plain.
Outside the rain is tapping on the leaves
To me it sounds like they're applauding us,
The quiet love we've made.
Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?
Well, I looked my demons in the eyes
laid bare my chest, said "Do your best, destroy me.
You see, I've been to hell and back so many times,
I must admit you kind of bore me."
There's a lot of things that can kill a man
There's a lot of ways to die
Yes, and some already dead that walk beside me
There's a lot of things I don't understand
Why so many people lie
Well, it's the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me
Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?
