The Sunset Tree, by The Mountain Goats
The Sunset Tree is an autobiographical album by The Mountain Goats, detailing singer/songwriter John Darnielle’s life with an abusive stepfather. The whole album carries with it strange mixture of anger and fondness. In the midst of songs about personal tragedy and the growing love/hate relationship between John and his stepfather, is one which contains no narrative at all: the penultimate song, “Love, Love, Love.”
King Saul fell on his sword
When it all went wrong
And Joseph’s brother sold him down the river
For a song
And Sonny Liston rubbed some tiger balm in his glove
Some things you do for money
And some you do for love, love, love.Raskolnikov felt sick
But he couldn’t say why
When he saw his face reflected
In his victim’s twinkling eye
Some things you do for money
And some you’ll do for fun
But the things you do for love
Are gonna come back to you one by oneLove, love is gonna lead you by the hand
Into a white and soundless place
Now we see things
As in a mirror dimly
Then we shall see each other
Face to faceAnd way out in Seattle
Young Kurt Cobain
Snuck out to the greenhouse
Put a bullet in his brain
Snakes in the grass beneath our feet
Rain in the clouds above
Some moments last forever
And some flare out with love, love, love
Beyond the somewhat clichéd reference to Kurt Cobain, the most unsettling thing about this song to me is also the most obvious: none of these things seem to be examples of love. Quite the opposite, actually. Saul fell on his sword out of cowardice, Joseph was sold into slavery out of jealousy, Sonny Liston cheated out of greed, Crime and Punishment‘s Raskolnikov feels sick out of guilt, and Kurt Cobain shot himself out of depression.
What he seems to be getting at is that all of these events can be seen as the actions of misused love. Including the one that goes unspoken — his stepfather’s continual cycle of abuse and remorse. It’s easy to hypothesize about some of them. Saul loved honor, Jacob’s sons loved their father’s attention, Sonny Liston loved power and fame, Raskolnikov loved what he perceived as a plan to better humanity, and Kurt Cobain loved his independence. But what of his stepfather? It’s hard to say what is meant exactly, but I’m almost led to think John would say it was a genuine love for him. Some excess of emotion, perverted by passion, which inflicted more damage than good on its object. In his own words, “We talk about love as this benign, comfortable force: it is wild.”
I’m not sure I agree with that assessment, if it’s really what the song is getting at. It seems a little too pessimistic for my tastes. But regardless, the power of misplaced love is, to me, an interesting idea.
In Magnolia (a great film by P.T. Anderson), there is one line that has always stuck with me. It’s uttered by Donnie Smith; a gay, washed-up gameshow contestant, played by William H. Macy. He was just caught stealing from an ex-employer — trying to get enough money to pay for braces, which he is convinced he needs in order to attract the local bartender. After falling from a ladder and breaking all of his teeth, he laments to the police officer
“I know I did a stupid thing. So stupid! Getting braces. I thought… I thought he would love me. Getting… braces! And for what? For something I don’t even… I don’t know where to put things, you know? I really do have love to give! I just don’t know where to put it!”
As a reasonably straight man with reasonably straight teeth, I can’t say I relate to the character on many levels. But, as hokey as it may sound, there’s a part of me which understands his frustration.
People always ask me if I get lonely living away from home. I usually say “no”; because I don’t, at least in the traditional sense. Loneliness, as I see it, is a need for attention, or strong desire for company, or a craving to be loved. And I feel nothing of the sort. I’ve never enjoyed being in the limelight, value both the time to myself and the company I keep, and have no question that I am extremely loved. Affirmation is always nice, but I rarely need it. When I get off the phone with my mom, she doesn’t usually say “I love you, Stephen.” She says “Have a good night.” And that unspoken love is, to me, more than enough.
Some people need more than that, and for those who do, living 500 miles away from nearly all close friends would certainly be lonely. But I generally don’t feel that way. What I feel, instead, is much harder to define. A bizarre urge to give a dollar to a homeless man in exchange for a fist bump, or to listen to a longwinded story on the phone, or to say “I love you” to a friend who would, doubtlessly, find it odd out of the blue. I feel it when I walk home through the campus at night, and nothing is lit but a handful of scattered windows, 10 stories up. I fuel it with pictures from home, of events which may not have even included me. It manifests itself in hundreds of unsent text messages (most of which say little more than “How are you doing?”) and a flurry of pointless Facebook comments, and it’s absolutely not a lack of love. If anything it’s an awkward excess, with nowhere to put it.
Campus At Night
At home I am deeply bound to people. Often that is exhausting. People demand time, and particularly during this break, a lot of my time has been devoted to my relationships. I grow accustomed to that. Every long conversation, or hour of sleep sacrificed to a movie or cup of coffee, eventually feels like time well spent. Leaving home, I go through a drastic change. 72 hours ago I was eating out for the third time on a full stomach with friends; tonight I’m eating my first meal of the day, three blocks from the lab in which I’ll likely stay till sunrise. And while I love my life and crave virtually nothing up here, there is an odd sense of misuse in all of this. It’s time apportioned almost solely for myself and my future. Busyness with little personal intent. Much is asked of me, but certainly not love.
I can’t quite verbalize it. It’s not a feeling of sadness– if I give off that impression, you dont know me well enough. It always takes a day or two to settle. But meanwhile I’m in a state of awkward transition, as a hectic new semester approaches and the past month flares out with love, love, love.
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