May 29 2008
A Measure of Melancholy
The song “Black Cab” by Swedish singer Jens Lekman opens:
Oh no, God damn
I missed the last tram
I killed the party again
God damn, God damn
Lekman is deft with his crafting. The “again” is echoed by the layers of plaintive refrains in diction, rhythm, and meter. The result is a sense of melancholic endlessness: not only did he miss the last tram, but he was the buzz-kill at the party–again. I like the gut feeling it evokes without giving many of the details; we can feel the shame for being the consummate downer and the frustration with being stranded late at night, with the only option the notoriously dangerous black cab.
Anne Sexton’s poem, “The Truth the Dead Know” hits a similar gut nerve in me.
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.
The stanza break makes her resignation more emphatic–and funny. She begins again:
We drive to the Cape…
Lekman and Sexton both temper their suffering with humor; the sentiment burns yet slides, like a swig of tequila. And somehow, with Lekman, Sexton and tequila, you feel better afterwards. And worse.
You can listen to “Black Cab” at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5133204&sc=emaf
