Wildfire, by Mandolin Orange

The Wikipedia entry on Mandolin Orange—who changed their name and now go by Watchhouse—a folk duo led by Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz, describes them as "bearing the stamp of folk, country, bluegrass, gospel and pop, all mingled in a unique melange perhaps best described simply as modern American roots music." Putting aside the fact that this flowery language probably means the article was written by their publicist, the description is rather apt. Marlin plays the titular mandolin, plus guitar and banjo, and Frantz plays guitar and violin. And, together, they have amazing harmonizing vocals.

But I want to talk today about their song "Wildfire," because it's a stellar example of their musical range, but also a timely and piercing song about a culture of inherited racism and hatred.

The song begins in the Revolutionary War, referring to Joseph Warren:

Brave men fought with the battle cry

Tears filled the eyes of their loved ones and their brothers in arms

And so it went, for Joseph Warren

It should have been different

It could have been easy

His rank could have saved him

But a country unborn needs bravery

And it spread like wildfire

Joseph Warren, a patriot and revolutionary, had been commissioned as a Major General, but insisted on fighting as a private. He died in the Battle of Bunker Hill, but served as a catalyst for the revolution.

The song then jumps forward in time to the Civil War, first saying that from the ashes of the revolution brought sweet liberty, but then takes a somber tone and and declares that "too much money rolled in to ever end slavery, The cry for war spread like wildfire."

The entire song decries the endless cycle of hatred, declaring that the Civil War should have ended racism and hatred, but it only wounded it and made it fester.

Civil War came, Civil War went

Brother fought the brother, the South was spent

But its true demise was hatred passed down through the years

It should have been different It could have been easy

But pride has a way of holding too firm to history

And it burns like wildfire

Throughout the song, that middle couplet is repeated and emphasized: "It should have been different. It could have been easy," sung sometimes wistfully, and sometimes angrily. It should have been different. It could have been easy. Of course, the idea that it could have been easy is wishful thinking--it would never have been easy. But the sentiment is there in that it should have been different.

The song then jumps forward to the modern day, talking about those who "beat their chests and say that the south is going to rise again." "The day that old Warren died, hate should have gone with him, But here we are caught in wildfire."

They offer no solutions, only the sad refrain that hatred burns like wildfire, and the idea that it should be different, and it can be easy.

Creature Comforts, by Arcade Fire

There’s a song that’s been going through my head for a while now—I think it’s because I’m writing a book about teenage girls, but also because I’ve been thinking a lot about mental health generally.

The video for Arcade Fire's "Creature Comforts" shows the band--dressed in shimmering gold and silver, illuminated by spotlights and strobes--from the neck down. The style is synth-pop, synthesizers, electronica, and even a keytar. It sounds like dance music with a catchy melody and a strong bass line. It could be a song about anything—a peppy love song, a feel-good pop sensation.

It's about suicide, body shaming, cutting, depression, and self-hate. The video illustrates it, showing an overly-fantastical world where everything is light and flashing and glittering, as if to say "this is everything that you're supposed to be."

The repeated hook and chorus is:

Some girls hate their bodies,

Stand in the mirror and wait for the feedback.

Saying "God, make me famous.

If you can't, just make it painless"

It's a song about the harsh pressure put on girls (and boys) to be perfect, famous, and beautiful, and the lyrics are devastating:

Assisted suicide

She dreams about dying all the time

She told me she came so close

Filled up the bathtub and put on our first record

Saying "God, make me famous.

If you can't, just make it painless

Just make it painless."

The twist comes in the two-thirds through, where the singer replies to the girl in the mirror:

It's not painless

She was a friend of mine, a friend of mine

This isn't a trifling thing. Suicide isn't painless. The song continues with the refrain, finally ending with a short piece of simple advice:

It goes on and on, I don't know what I want

On and on, I don't know if I want it

On and on, I don't know what I want

On and on, I don't know if I want it...

Well if you're not sure, better safe than sorry

I find so much to love in this song, and so much to think about. I have depression and I've had suicidal ideation. I've self-harmed. But more than that, I think about my kids, and my teenagers, and the pressure that is put on them to look attractive and be popular.

(From a lyrical perspective, I think it's interesting that the word "painless", and the phrase "make it painless" are so immediately linked to suicide. The theme to M*A*S*H, after all, was "Suicide is Painless", but that show outdates the all the musicians in Arcade Fire, and most assuredly the majority of their listeners. But when we hear "make it painless", we know exactly what they're talking about. I find that interesting.)

Here’s the thing about the song that gets to me: I think it has to do with so much more than just teenagers. The older I get and the more I live on social media, the more I see people my age—and I’m in my mid forties—trying to look perfect for Instagram. I especially see this in the community of artists and authors I’m in: we all have to look like we have idyllic lives, because our lives are not just our lives—they’re our book advertisements. So we get dressed up for church every Sunday and we take a picture in front of the chapel in our fancy clothes, and we go on vacations to Mexico and show pictures of us eating delicious tacos (always with the caveat “I’m going to have to exercise so much to work this off but OMG tacos are my favorite!”). It just seems to be rampant and it bugs me so much.

And I’m not immune. I feel the pressure to conform to worldly body standards that everyone else does. I’m overweight, which I like to blame on the fact that so many of my meds have “side effect: may gain weight” on the label, but also… I don’t exercise like I should. And the fact is: I am 100% comfortable in my body. I don’t have body image issues for myself. But I do feel this unspoken “obesity is a moral failing” attitude surrounding me.

Of course, Creature Comforts also hits different because I have, in the past, dealt with both suicidal ideation (thankful not a lot, but enough to scare me) and self-harm (an awful lot for an awful lot of years).

Some girls hate themselves
Hide under the covers with sleeping pills and
Some girls cut themselves
Stand in the mirror and wait for the feedback

I don’t have an amazing conclusion to this except to repeat the words of the bridge: It’s not painless. There is so much pain surrounding self harm and suicide. And it’s not just the “It’s not painless—she was a friend of mine” type pain, because that’s telling people that they shouldn’t hurt themselves, because it causes pain to other people. It’s an important thing to note, but it’s not the primary reason that people should hurt themselves. Don’t not hurt yourself for me—don’t hurt yourself for you. It’s not painless, and it’s going to cause pain that you can’t imagine.