Well, How Did We Get Here?
Background: In an earlier blog, I talked about songs named after roads, highways, and interstates. And in another, I talked about mentioning states and cities in songs and/or song titles. These are among my favorite things to write about, as they give a specific emotional connection, while still maintaining reliability. Now we are going to shift our focus from the road to our mode of transport.
“Little Red Corvette” by Prince
Lyrically: A few blogs ago, I talked about songs with colors in the title, and mentioned having left “Little Red Corvette” out. In that blog, I wanted to make sure the color discussed in the song conveyed some sort of emotion and visual that was crucial to the song’s message. In “Little Red Corvette,” the fact that the car is red might be a metaphor for love, but what truly matters as a visual is that it was too fast. To me, “Fast” takes on a double meaning. There’s fast, like “Oh, our romance was brief.” But as we saw in “Darling Nikki” a few years later, that didn’t fully matter to Prince. The second definition of “fast” is someone who sleeps with a lot of people, being unfaithful to the prior flame. This is the more likely trajectory, with visuals such as “Guess I must be dumb, she had a pocket full of horses, a trojan and some of them used.” Trojan in this case, refers to condoms, but could also refer to the decoy that was the Trojan horse. The pocket full of horses refers to the horsepower on a car, allowing it to go faster, the more horsepower it has, which can be seen as the speed at which one makes love and the speed at which one leaves after doing so. However, the visual of an actual horse doesn’t get completely ignored, as seen in the second verse, when he references “The jockeys who’d been here before me.” The bridge sees him trying to “Tame (her) little red love machine.” There are so many things to analyze in this song, but the metaphor of a car (especially one that looks fancy on the surface) is just gorgeously haunting. Of note, this song was actually inspired by Revolution member Lisa Coleman’s car being parked sideways in Prince’s yard after an all night recording session. Keep your head on a swivel, songwriters. The mildest observation could lead to a fabulous song!
Melodically: The song is written in C# major, and the most prominent instruments in the song are synthesizer and drums. On synth, the intro uses F#, G#, A#m7, and F#9, which are also the chords used in the verses. This is a IV, V, i, IV pattern. When he gets to the “But it was Saturday night,” line, he uses F#, G#, A#m7, and G#, the IV, V, i, and V chords. The chorus uses F#, G#, C#, F#. G#, A#m7, a IV, V, I, IV, V, vi pattern. The F#, G#, C# then repeats, before ending on an F# and G#. The solo uses G# C# F# G# A#m7 F# G# C# F# G# (a V, I, IV, V, vi, IV, V, I, IV, V pattern) and the bridge uses the same chords as the intro.
Structurally: The song uses a verse, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo, bridge, chorus, chorus format, with the last chorus changing up the lyrics slightly, saying “You’ve got to slow down,” instead of “You’re much too fast.” The album version is about two minutes longer than the radio edit, and contains some lyrical riffing by Prince at the end.
“Little Red Corvette” is embedded below.
2. “A Horse with No Name” by America
Lyrically: While “Little Red Corvette” alluded to horses in the lyrics, as a metaphor for various things, “A Horse with No Name” talks about a journey on a literal horse. The imagery of a desert came from two different surrealist paintings: a desert painting by Salvador Dalí and a horse painting by M.C. Escher (no relation to MC Hammer). A big point of emphasis in surrealistic paintings is the presence of bugs, so the line about “a fly with a buzz” fits perfectly. In addition to the already existing artistic inspirations, America member Dewey Barnell also drew on his experiences as a child driving through Arizona and New Mexico as he was writing the song.
Melodically: The song is written in the key of E Dorian, in a D9 tuning. This key has two sharps in its key signature, F# and C#. This is the only America song to be written in E Dorian. The production includes acoustic guitar, bass guitar, drums and bongos percussion. In addition to the acoustic guitar, which plays Em, Em, D6/F#, and E7sus4 throughout the whole song, a 12 string guitar can be heard playing F# on the backbeat of the Em chord. A good song will always paint a vivid picture of what is going on. Mostly, I look for that to be done in the lyrics, but in this particular song, the rhythm of the guitar sounds like a horse trudging around the desert, and it works very well for the song.
Structurally: The song uses a verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo, verse, chorus format. Melodically, the song is a little monotonous, but that suits the song well, given that everything looks the same when you’re wandering around the desert. The structure of the song tells a story, revealing a little bit more about the journey with the horse. The first verse describes everything the narrator sees, the second verse describes the heat and what happened after a few days in the sun. The last verse details him letting the horse run free, so that only one of them has to be miserable. It plays almost like a journal.
“A Horse with No Name” is embedded below. In 2015, Michelle Branch released a cover of the song for the show BoJack Horseman, which features Patrick Carney of the Black Keys. It’s phenomenal, so I’ve included that one as well.
3. “Watching Airplanes” by Gary Allan
Lyrically: There are many songs about planes, and many of them are written from the perspective of those flying in them (a few of my favorites are “Leavin’ on a Jet Plane” by John Denver, “Drunk on a Plane” by Dierks Bentley, and “Jet Airliner” by the Steve Miller Band). But “Watching Airplanes” is a unique perspective, at least given the mode of transportation in question. In it, the narrator is hanging out at the airport, and more specifically, hanging out on the runway, trying to catch a glimpse of his ex, who is leaving him. The chorus says, “I’m just sittin’ ‘round here watching airplanes, take off and fly. Tryin’ to figure out which one you might be on. And why you don’t love me anymore.” Before I break down the emotional weight of those words, I want to talk about the way those lyrics are strung together. This is one of those glorious songs where there is less focus on rhyming and more focus on what needs to be said. I’ve known about this song since it came out in 2007, but until singing it in my head while writing this blog, I didn’t see how the word “fly” rhymes with “And why.” It sneaks up on you, because you’re more focused on what’s being said, but it flows nicely in your brain because it does rhyme.
Now for what’s being said. The first verse paints a beautiful visual of a day with a “Caramel covered sunset sky.” This is something he’d normally want to look up to and enjoy, but what he’s really looking for is the airplane that’s carrying his ex. In the second verse, he talks about all of the things he could have done differently, but also wonders if it would make any difference to try harder now, and how she’d react if she saw him “Runnin’ down the runway just like (he) was crazy,” concluding hopelessness in the bridge, because she’s “30,000 feet above (him) and a million miles away.” The year after this song came out, The Script put out a song called “The Man Who Can’t Be Moved,” and one of my teachers said it put a brand new spin on the whole “I’ll wait for you” romantic trope. This song does the same thing, and the fewer details that go into it, the more you’re able to empathize with the narrator in the song, rather than the person who is on the airplane.
Melodically: The song is written in F major, and follows an E, A pattern (the VII and III chords) that gets played twice in the intro and four times in the verses, before a C#m and D come in during the last line of the verses. The chorus uses A, D, A, D all the way through until the last line, which uses F#m, E, D, E, A. The bridge uses F#m, E, B, G, D, G, D, F#m, E, D, A, D, A, D. The ending repeats the A, D, A, D pattern, while Allan sings “Bye bye, baby, bye bye.”
Structurally: The song follows a verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus format. The way the chorus ends leads to a spectacular transition into the bridge that you might not notice, but it’s pronounced enough so you can tell something different is going on. Keith Urban does this very well in his song “Stupid Boy,” as mentioned in an earlier blog.
“Watching Airplanes” is not 30,000 feet above you, it’s embedded below.
4. “City of New Orleans” by Steve Goodman (and take your pick of your favorite cover)
Lyrically: Just looking at the title, you would think “City of New Orleans” would have fit better in my state and city blog. But “City of New Orleans” refers to the train that runs from Chicago down to, you guessed it, New Orleans. In it, he paints a picture of all the people and things he sees on the train, from the “fifteen restless riders” to the “three conductors,” along with “twenty five sacks of mail.” The chorus then details a charming innocence by kindly asserting, “Good morning, America, how are ya? Don’t you know me? I’m your native son?” There are many trains songs out there, but most of them, like the airplane songs, are written from the perspective of the riders (“Acela” by Fountains of Wayne, discussed in an earlier blog, “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers, and “King of the Road” by Roger Miller, to name a few). This song is unique in that it personifies the train. When the train pulls in, it greets everyone around it by saying, “Good morning, America, how are you?” Also, not to be forgotten: This is one of over 1,000 songs that mention “Memphis” in its lyrics.
I can’t let this lyrical section end without giving some long overdue credit to Steve Goodman. This song has been covered by countless artists, and sometimes when that happens, the song can fall victim to oversaturation. But this is such a charming song, I don’t think it will ever get old. There would have been no John Prine without Steve Goodman–he was a fabulous songwriter that doesn’t always get his due.
Melodically: The song is written in the key of C major, Goodman uses the chords C, G, C, Am, F, C, and G in the intro. This is a I, V, I, vi, IV, I, V pattern. The verses then use the same chords as the intro, except ends on a G7 instead of the straight G. This is followed by the same pattern, except ending on the C7 (an extension of the I chord). The pre-chorus uses Am, Em, G, and D, before ending on Am, Em, G, G7, C, and C7. This is a vi, iii, V, I pattern. The chorus uses F, G, C, and C7, Am, F, C, and G7 (a IV, V, I, I, vi, IV, I, V pattern), before ending on Am, F, G, C, G (a vi, IV, V, I, V pattern). Instrumentally, the song uses acoustic and bass guitar, as well as violin and drums.
Structurally: The song uses a verse, pre-chorus, chorus, verse, pre-chorus, chorus, verse, pre-chorus, chorus format. There is a lot to cover in over 900 miles, but it never feels like an arduous journey. Instead, the joyous nature of the song gets us excited for each verse and each new thing the train is going to point out. The last chorus changes from “Good morning, America,” to “Goodnight, America,” which is not currently a talk show, but if it were, I’m sure Ryan Seacrest would be hosting it.
“City of New Orleans” is embedded below.
