Songwriters absorb and reflect a myriad number of influences. Their physical environments, their emotional states, the political situations they find themselves in, the books they read--all of these things affect and influence the creation of popular music. A thread in a recent e-mail discussion about literary influences on songwriters caught my eye, and inspired me to weave it into this month's column.
Lately I've been listening to the musical duo Dead Can Dance, and specifically to a song that has intrigued me ever since the first time I heard it. The album Into the Labyrinth dates from 1993, and the song that's been stuck in my craw is entitled "How Fortunate the Man With None."
Dead Can Dance weaves a unique synthesis of Western and Eastern music, blending elements of chant, a variety of percussion instruments, synthesizers, modal harmonies, and philosophical lyrics. Dead Can Dance consists primarily of two people, Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry, both of whom are singers. Perry also plays a numerous instruments, although I'm not sure about Gerrard. Perry's voice often reminds me of Sinatra, but only in its sonority; I doubt whether Frank would know how to approach most of this material. And Gerrard's voice is beautifully suited to the music. I often think she sounds as if she's channeling ancient spirits.
The first time I noticed their work was when a friend played a song from the 1996 album Spiritchaser that segues into an extended melodic quote from George Harrison's "Within You Without You," for my money one of the more notable songs from the Beatles' later years. Hearing this piqued my interest in the duo, leading to my discovery of and interest in the song I'm writing about.
"How Fortunate the Man With None" captured me right away with its hypnotic synthesizer-based motif: a repeating seven-note bass pattern, shadowed by itself as each note is echoed with a slight delay--except the shadow motif is played an interval--a fifth?--higher. The motif plays throughout the song, carrying it forward while at the same time restraining it and keeping its pace measured and even.
Perry's big baritone voice intones the opening lyrics, sounding as if it's been filtered through multiple layers of bourbon and burlap. The lyrics make no bones about the general thrust of the song, and confirm that this is not product from the latest teen phenomenon:
You saw sagacious Solomon
You know what came of him
Well, I know Solomon was considered a wise man. However, I must confess I really don't know what became of him. But despite my ignorance, I was intrigued by the way the first verse ended:
It's wisdom that brought him to this state
How fortunate the man with none
That's what grabbed me, the realization that the song was about the good fortune inherent in not possessing something--wisdom, in this case. Hmmm.
The second verse speaks of Caesar:
You saw courageous Caesar next
You know what he became
They deified him in his life
Then had him murdered just the same
This time, though, the verse ends with a statement that speaks to the cowardice in each of us:
It's courage that had brought him to that state
How fortunate the man with none
The third verse is about Socrates:
You heard of honest Socrates
The man who never lied
They weren't so grateful as you'd think
Instead the rulers fixed to have him tried
And handed him the poisoned drink
...
It's honesty that brought him to that state
How fortunate the man with none
Well, I thought. This was turning into a rather morose study of famous people throughout history, while simultaneously dissing virtues that most people hold in high regard. How would it end?
Here you can see respectable folk
Keeping to God's own laws
So far he hasn't taken heed
...
It's fear of God that brought us to that (this) state
How fortunate the man with none
Oh, okay. Now I get it. It's about religious extremism, and how those who fear God lead limited lives. But wait--what about those other virtues? Is the songwriter equating courage and honesty with fear of God? Or is he contrasting them?
I started wondering where the heck this songwriter was coming from--until I noticed the fine print on the lyric sheet. The song dates from the late 1930s, and was written by Bertolt Brecht, the German poet and playwright whose anti-Nazi sentiments forced him into exile in 1933. Brecht's books were burned in his native land, and he also had his German citizenship revoked during the Nazi era. I stopped questioning the song's dark point of view.
And as I reread the line "So far he hasn't taken heed" I couldn't help but think of the 1972 Randy Newman classic "God's Song:"
Man means nothing-he means less to me
Than the lowliest cactus flower
Or the humblest Yucca tree
He chases around this desert
'Cause he thinks that's where I'll be
That's why I love mankind
...
You all must be crazy to put your faith in me
That's why I love mankind
This got me to thinking about Newman's influences. Could "God's Song" have been inspired by Brecht? Well, it's conceivable--although I don't think Newman has ever indicated that it was. In the articles and interviews I've read he says he wrote the song fairly quickly, and that he wasn't even sure about the identity of some of the people he referenced.
Brecht may not have inspired "God's Song," but Newman's viewpoint was certainly impacted by religious literature. And Brecht was certainly influenced by historical literature, as well as by the political situation in his native country. In addition to his considerable output of plays and other work, Brecht also wrote "Mack the Knife," which was recorded by such mainstream pop artists as Ella Fitzgerald and Bobby Darin in the 1950s. Now there's a song whose imagery has always puzzled me, and which I keep meaning to delve into. Perhaps another time...