I’ve been doing a lot of hemming and hawing as to how I ought to start the whole blogging thing (what’s the present participle conjugation of “to blog”? “blogging” looks awkward and “bloging” would be pronounced “blow-jing”) which may seem a trivial matter, but it’s rather significant seeing as this will set the precedent of how I am to present myself via Xanga henceforth and in perpetuity. However, there is one thing I know I’d like to mention; when I was in Pennsylvania I heard “Piano Man” by Billy Joel on the radio and since then it’s been bouncing around in my head – so much so that I plopped down $0.99 on iTunes to obtain a legal and ethically permissible copy of the song because I had to listen to it. And since then I have quite a bit.
What has struck me in these repeated listenings is that while I already appreciate the song intensely on a musical level – I love how there’s a blend of piano, harmonica, drums, and banjo but it’s all really subtle and light. Unlike some songs where intensity is generated by a “wall of sound” (such as “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by the Beach Boys or “The Summer Side of Life” by Gordon Lightfoot) that makes the music wash over you, the feeling in “Piano Man” is conveyed by the ebb and the flow of the musical elements always subservient to the degree of emotion in Joel’s voice at any time – the lyrics have so enamored themselves to me that I view the song on a whole other level of meaning. Since I enjoy them so much, I thought I’d say something about them:
It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There’s an old man sitting next to me
Making love to his tonic and gin
He says, “Son can you play me a memory?
I’m not really sure how it goes
But it’s sad and it’s sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man’s clothes”
La lala dihdeda
La la ladeda
Dada
Sing us a song, you’re the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody
And you’ve got us feeling alright
Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he’s quick with a joke
Or to light up your smoke
But there’s some place that he’d rather be
He says, “Bill I believe this is killing me,”
As the smile ran away from his face
“Well I’m sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place”
Oh, la lala dihdeda
Lala dihdeda
Dada
Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife
And he’s talking with Davey
Who’s still in the Navy
And probably will be for life
And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessmen slowly get stoned
Yes they’re sharing a drink they call loneliness
But it’s better than drinking alone
Sing us a song, you’re the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody
And you’ve got us feeling alright
It’s a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
And the manager gives me a smile
‘Cause he knows that it’s me
They’ve been coming to see
To forget about life for awhile
And the piano, it sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar
And put bread in my jar
And say, “Man, what are you doing here?”
Oh, la lala dihdeda
Lada dihdeda
Da dum
Sing us a song, you’re the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody
And you’ve got us feeling alright
I had originally intended to write about what the song means to me – the story it tells – but in trying to solidify exactly what that is I came up short. What I realized is that the lyrical genius of “Piano Man” is that through the brief narration of the song, a whole world of meaning is associated – much more so than were a philosopher or novelist to write a thousand page explication on the intricacies and specificities of the feelings within the song. To me this song has a lot of meaning; I know exactly what it’s about and it’s very significant because of that, but I couldn’t put into words for you what that is. As a writer this is the kind of prose I attain to – being able to make my audience feel what I want them to feel without using a sledgehammer to make my point. Indeed when it comes to matters like this, the lightest touch tends to be the most effective.
But really when it comes to attempts to convey deep personal meaning through literature (including poetry/lyrics) specificity in writing will not do the trick because within the myriad complexities of the human mind any specificity is nigh upon impossible. Our emotions are so multi-faceted and dynamic that any attempt to codify them through our shaky framework of man-made linguistics is laughable at best – indeed, through our inexplicable trait of having to relegate the thoughts constantly running through our heads into speech patterns we generally don’t understand or acknowledge all there is to our own feelings as we experience them. There’s so much to say and contemplate on that topic, but it’s a whole other ball of wax for now. I’m tired and I’ve got church in a few short hours.
I hope this is okay for my first entry.
scoot | 
