A CASE FOR SONG, #1: Bullets for the New-Born King

[Poor Deportee]

In an effort to pump a bit of new life into this board, I thought I'd emulate what 'Mez' does over at the Dylan board Expecting Rain - namely, his regular 'Track Talk' posts that invite discussion of specific, randomly-selected songs. Feel free to add further posts using the 'Case for Song' motif!

I was listening to this the other day -

No one looks in this place for motive or any hope
But for the dead shot of an amber glass
The blue light of a votive

The rain obscured the window
As the pain was dulled by the grains
Absolved in spoons and flames
In fear in time dissolving

It's not for the faint of pulse
Or anybody false
Those amateurs who only shed their skin
So where are those traitors now, we once called patriots?
Just like those saints who seem to revel in their sins

O my eyes were filled with tears that were stinging
After our assassin's work was done
But hands and bells are only there for the wringing
As we were bringing bullets for the new-born king

The trumpet sounds lamenting
Trampling down the blooms of the deceased
The double agent girl and the fallen priest were heading for the border

Somewhere at the high command there stayed the palest hand
That saw the order countermand
Erased a tape recorder and then they hung him from a window cord

Swallow down that voodoo vial to still your breath a while
Before we spill this tale that has been spun
And so I shall now confide all that I once denied
Oh I'm so sorry for the things I've done

O my eyes were filled with tears that were stinging
After our assassin's work was done
But hands and bells are only there for the wringing
As we were bringing bullet for the new-born king

Somewhere In Central America - 1951

It seems to be one of the more overlooked numbers on National Ransom, but I think it's a fine song indeed. It seems almost to exemplify EC's attitude to games of power and politics - these invariably being understood in terms of sordid and brutal betrayal. The sadness here - the guilt, the sorrow for the things done - capture the tone of regret that he has brough to his political reflections since at least 'Shipbuilding;' the combination of drug use and a particularly grisly murder, coupled with the stripped-down musical setting, perhaps his starkest excursion into the ultimately simple brutalities of the game.

Part of what interests me about this song is the allusiveness of the final couplet of the chorus. 'The bells and hands were only there for the (w)ringing' is, first of all, a neat instance of Costello-ish wordplay; but it's wordplay that serves a subtle purpose, through the haunting echo of violence. Yes, one wrings one's hands in anxiety ('I'm so sorry...'); but the juxtaposition with ringing bells summons thoughts of a hammer and bell ('ringing') and thus hint at what might be done to the hands by, say, the torturer. The implication is left unstated, but it hangs subtly in the air. Lest this be thought a stretch, the next line creates a similarly unsettling allusive effect: 'we were bringing bullets for the new-born king...' The surface meaning seems to be that the assassins have done the dirty work enabling some dictator to take power (the 'new born king'), brutally liquidating his chief rival. But there is another undercurrent here: that of actually murdering a newborn. I don't say this is the literal meaning of the words. What I'm saying is that it is an idea that the words, intentionally or unintentionally, call to mind, and that subtly haunt the listener, a reminder of the atrocicious depths to which those playing this game are prepared to sink.

This is very subtle writing, a further testament to the power of Elvis's craft.

[Dr. Luther]

It seems to be one of the more overlooked numbers on National Ransom, but I think it's a fine song indeed.

It would be in my top 5 Costello compositions of the past 20 years, I'd think.

[Jack of All Parades]

Nice idea. I do think you are on to something with your analysis of the refrain's last couplet. What has always struck me about his more overt 'political' songs is their tight narrative structures. He is a master at setting a distinct mood, peopling it with characters[often not specifically identified] and then letting the ambiguity of the word pairings work their magic with his craft. Repeated listens to this song have made me think his former Catholicism takes a greater role in the narrative- the accoutrements are there in vivid detail: candle, guilt, the evocative statuary, light and dark and, as you notice, the faint hint of infanticide.

It works on the notion of guilt on quite a few levels. Excellent job of lyric writing.

And it puts to shame this effort by an older band in their dotage:

http://youtu.be/GHEVPoIsMhs

[migdd]

I'll cast another vote for this song being one of EC's strongest compositions and an excellent choice to jump-start your concept for what should be a very interesting thread. Many thanks, PD, for porting over this thread idea - it's a great one!

There's a sense of dread captured in this song's beautiful melody. I love the simplicity of the arrangement and the power captured in the performance. As under-appreciated (poor-sellng) as National Ransom was, I feel that it will age well and be remembered as a collection of extremely powerful songs and a benchmark in EC's enduring and storied catalog.

[pophead2k]

I'd be especially interested to know the source of inspiration for the composition of this song. I've often marveled at how EC has the time/motivation to be so interested in so many things. It's a great number and showcases the 'new' style of guitar playing he employed often on NR. I overlooked this one myself the first several spins of the album, but it popped up in shuffle recently and hearing it on its own impressed on me what a strong track it is.

[thepopeofpop]

I'd say this is probably one of the best songs he has ever written.

I agree with migdd that this album will probably eventually be regarded as one of his finest by many.

[Top balcony]

I'd say this is probably one of the best songs he has ever written.

yep me too

[Fishfinger king]

I'd say this is probably one of the best songs he has ever written.

yep me too

I agree that it's dead good.





My career as a critic awaits.....................

[Poor Deportee]

I think Jack is onto something crucial in pointing out the Catholic connotations of this lyric. The setting, after all, is Latin America. It would not stun me to learn that the narrator is speaking in a confessional.

No one looks in this place for motive or any hope
But for the dead shot of an amber glass
The blue light of a votive

This is ambiguous, but a 'votive offering' obviously strikes the relevant note. The words could well be spoken in a church. The first two lines, perhaps not; if they indeed refer to a church or confessional, they certainly reveal some cynicism about what the faith and its trappings have to offer. Nonetheless, this opener can be read as stage-setting, such that the rest of the song amounts to the confession to the priest. The final verse, with its reference to the 'voodoo vial' could refer to the wine from the chalice; the mass as some sort of preamble to 'confiding' what has been done. Or perhaps this is reaching, and the scene is simply some dark room somewhere.

The other thing that tugs at me in this song is what seems to be a dance between that deep cynicism and its opposite.

It's not for the faint of pulse
Or anybody false
Those amateurs who only shed their skin
So where are those traitors now, we once called patriots?
Just like those saints who seem to revel in their sins

Amateurs 'shed their skin, cynically adapting to power.' The implication seems to be that the 'professionals,' with whom the narrator identifies, are by contrast truly committed to the cause. And part of the tragedy that drives the song may be the collision between the narrator's ideals - symbolized by the Catholic backdrop, even if his religion may be that of a revolutionary rather than a theological cause - and the horrific acts into which they have driven him. In the end, he breaks down, consumed with a guilt that has to be explained partly by his ongoing affinity to the religious ideals or concepts that are not part of his formal ideological conviction. Hence the push and pull - the dismissal of religious purposes in the first two lines, the collapse into naked remose and confession in the final couplet.

It's quite a feat of writing that Elvis can weave into all of this a religious subtext, whereby the sacrifices of a revolutionary life are woven into the ultimate Christian sacrifice and a Catholic iconography that arguably does relate, in some windy way, to the convictions of even the most atheistic militant. Both are animated by a thirst for the radical redemption of human life. Both crash up all too often against the primal limitations of human life - compromised by the very condition they seek to transcend.

But, not being especially gifted in the arts of literary interpretation, I may be missing the mark. In terms of the bigger picture, I continue to be convinced that this song is deliberately - and subtly - invoking Christian imagery throughout: the 'new born king' has inescapable resonances, as do trumpets and bells, or the otherwise theatrical image of the double agent girl and fallen priest heading for the border, like Mary and Joseph fleeing Herod's assassins into Egypt. The effect is subtle but, to my mind, gives the song a good part of its ultimate force.

Holy cow. For all of his meanderings over the years, when inspired, Elvis Costello can really write a song.

[Jack of All Parades]

I have always been fascinated by the apparent Roman Catholicism that infuses the lyric with its Manichean darkness and tortured playing with light and dark. I really think Roman Catholicism is integral to the character in the song and to the terrain that the lyric uses as it backdrop. I find myself intrigued by the seemingly distinct sinful behavior of the protagonist and the need for sacramental absolution. There is a sentence from Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory that has always seemed pertinent to this lyric: "This place was very like the world: overcrowded with lust and crime and unhappy love, it stank to heaven: but he realized that after all it was possible to find peace there, when you knew for certain that time was short."

Action could conceivably take place within a bar- the elements of the lyric fit such a local as well as a confessional in a church. And is not the old cliche that a tavern is also a 'sacred' place where many go for absolution and confession? Just a thought.

As to the lyric's query as to where are the participants now?. I like to think they have never left. They shed their skins to suit the latest group in charge. I use as example the various governments that have evolved out of the Arab Spring revolts throughout the Middle East and North Africa in the last year. Nothing has really changed as the bureaucrats just 'change their skin' to suit the latest group in power. Just look at Egypt or any Latin or South American power change. I also find fun in equating that skin shedding-[etch-a-sketching if you will] with the current Republican campaign and it's chief chameleon, Mitt Romney. I find the song's questioning of moral and physical cowardice refreshing.

You have done a fine job of opening up this song for me. Thank you.

[johnfoyle]

I have always been fascinated by the apparent Roman Catholicism that infuses the lyric

From this thread -

http://www.elviscostellofans.com/phpBB2 ... %2C+bleach



In a July 1996 interview with Hot Press ( Dublin)

( extract - scanned from cutting from print edition)

Some of the most exquisite songs on All This Useless Beauty appear to be floodlit with Catholic guilt. It takes different guises. An Old Testament phrase here, a reminder of how the sky is said to darken on Good Friday there. I could elaborate, but Elvis starts to look at me like I’m another German theory-meister. With a headshake and a smirk, he warns against taking his words at face value.

“A song like ‘Complicated Shadows’ was written in this semi-Biblical language because it was written for Johnny Cash,” he attests. “I could imagine him intoning these things with great gravity. But it’s not indicative of a particular frame of mind on my part. The private language of the songs is often different from the public language of the songs. It’s just the way I write. That Catholic thing is there in my head somewhere. And it’s far from vague. I can’t get it out, even with bleach.

“With Distorted Angel’ I was really thinking about children. Not child abuse but about children being made to feel guilty about a very innocent curiosity about their body. I didn’t want to write one of those greatly tortured Catholic songs. I don’t feel that way about it. It’s more of a hazy memory and it’s confused with a slightly erotic memory. The image of the distorted angel seems to fit it. As a kid, I remember being shown those holy pictures with a white-sheeted, strange, blonde person invisibly lurking in my room. I still find it quite spooky.

“I call ‘Poor Fractured Atlas’ an ‘epistle’ because it rhymes with ‘pistol in a kind of way that I like. It doesn’t really rhyme but it does when I sing it. I can make most words rhyme. I can make ‘mopin” and ‘Chopin’ rhyme. People say I often make clunky rhymes, but there’s humour in a bad rhyme. People often miss the point of humour in a bad rhyme.”

What are Elvis Costello’s religious beliefs? “None,” he sighs. “None that are formed into any coherent philosophy. I just have feelings of ease and unease about different things. I wouldn’t say that I can express it, really. I don’t feel the need to go to services of any kind. I go to funerals. I went to a wedding recently. I do all those landmark things that people tend to do in the sight of something, you don’t know what.

“You go to funerals to support people, to show to the living that you’re thinking about them and trying to help. Not necessarily because you believe in anything.”


Elvis is a fervent believer in the purgative powers of music, both in times of immediate grief and in those more difficult ensuing times when grief gives way to something empty and unnamable but no less distressing. At the aforementioned Meltdown Festival, he performed with an American gospel choir a version of ' That Day Is Done’, the song co written with Paul McCartney about the death of Costello’s grandmother. It was, he says, oddly exhilarating experience.




“That was a rare song among the ones we wrote which had a lot of personal detail in it,” Elvis explains. “It was about my grandmother’s funeral. After I had written ‘Veronica’ about her, this song was about not being able to attend her funeral, It was a very sad song to write. And Paul was very good about helping me to write this thing which was really bugging me and in making what I think is a very beautiful song out of it. He made a great record of it but I always wanted to cut it.

“To do it with these gospel guys was the right way for me to do it. It added a gravity to it, without it being maudlin. When they sing it, because they believe in this stuff which I don’t believe, it lifts you up to sing with them. They believe so much, and you’re standing among them, all singing together, it’s just fantastic. You are borne up by their belief.

“I have no problem listening to religious music of any kind, provided it isn’t actually oppressing me. Or nobody’s singing, like, ' Kill the woman!’, and there are quite a few religious songs which have that kind of tone. Debussy wrote Le Martyre De Saint Sebastien’ and he wasn’t a believer. He was inspired by the intensity of the poet’s words, and set those words very beautifully to music.

“That has happened quite a lot in the history of music, It’s not like I’m being post-modern about it or detached from it. I’m completely emotional when singing it because it is about spiritual things.

The gospel singers believe a coded thing, if you like. They believe their code, their doctrine, and I don’t. But I’m completely in sympathy with them on the ground of music which is the language that we do share. And the idiom that that song was written is a sort of gospel idiom, even though it’s not saying a gospel thing. It’s an experience, which is what the best music should be.”