Across Four Decades: The Fine Line Between Envy and Lust

Forty years seems like a long time; it's two years short of twice as long as my life. A lot can happen in four decades, and a lot can change. Some things, though, don't change over the course of forty years, or over the course of four hundred years, for that matter--things like true love, soul mates, and, apparently falling head over heels for a guy who's more interested in the hot girl with loose morals than the woman singing the blues over the thought of losing him. 

(If you haven't heard these songs, take a quick listen. If you have, take a quick listen; they're great!)

The song "Jolene," written and performed by Dolly Parton, was released in 1973; 39 years later ZZ Ward released her single "Put the Gun Down." Although these two song are years apart and fit into completely different genres of music, the message remains the same."Please don't take him just because you can," sings Parton, while Ward belts, "I said, don't take my man cuz' you know you can."

These lyrics mirror one another almost flawlessly, and the theme throughout is identical. The "protagonists," so to speak, of both songs are begging a beautiful woman not to take their beloved away from them, regardless of the fact that the "other woman" is fully capable of doing so. 

But perhaps the plots aren't really so simple. To play the Deconstructivist, perhaps these women actually care nothing for their men, but are more interested in the ladies they claim to be jealous of. While there is no description of the men they are fighting so hard to keep, the dirty mistresses get plenty of explanation: "Your beauty is beyond compare / With flaming locks of auburn hair / With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green / Your smile is like a breath of spring / Your voice is soft like summer rain / My happiness depends on you / And whatever you decide to do, Jolene." These lines sound like they are straight from a love sonnet, certainly not from a ballad of jealous hatred. 

"Put The Gun Down" is less like a sonnet and more like the beginning of soft-core literotica: "Hair, lips, just like a gun / She's got silver bullets on her tongue / She's got crimson eyes, a screamin' body / Face is young, she must taste sweet / She drops those panties to her knees." Once again, these are not the words of a jealous woman faced with the possibility of losing her true love, but the words of a lustful lover without much regard for hiding her passion. 

So as it turns out, forty years isn't really that long at all, at least not in terms of musical themes. Whether you choose to hear these songs as envious pleas or as lightly veiled sensual desire is up to you. Regardless, the songs are both symphonically* lovely, and make for an easy listen in just about any mood. 

*not an actual word

Nothing New

"There is nothing new under the sun."

I heard that from my father a thousand times when I was younger, a verse from Ecclesiastes that I never fully understood. "Of course I think new things," I thought to myself (most likely bearing in mind the story I'd recently written about a box of crayons who went on a picnic.) As I got older, the idea gradually began to make more sense.  Music, though, is what fully clarified that thought for me. 

When I was in second grade, my grandma bought me a 3-CD-set of "Rock-n-Roll: The Early Classics" along with a fancy Walkman and headphones. They were my first CD's, and I listened to them religiously. I interchanged them in my CD alarm clock, and woke up to "Wake Up, Little Susie" everyday until halfway through middle school. My best friend was an Elvis expert, and made me several mix tapes (yes, literal tapes) that I still listen to in my car's cassette player. 

I've always loved old music, and it didn't take me long to realize that all the Top 40's I'd hear were just rip-offs of my favorite Golden Age Classics. That's when I finally understood Dad's philosophy. It was a sobering thing to recognize, and made me feel trapped in some worldwide, century-spanning school of thought where I was no longer original. 

Since I've entered this bizarre stage of life called "adulthood," the idea that all of my thoughts have been thought before, all of my poems previously written, and each of my sentences already spoken has become much less caging and much more comforting. Being on my own has made me feel quite lost and lonely at times, and Dad's familiar proverbial wisdom quiets my frantic soul... Whatever it is I'm experiencing, someone has been there before. 

There is nothing new under the sun. We are all connected. And if anything is proof of that, it's music.