Scandinavian Silk Trade

Scandinavian Silk Trade – Chapter 1

(this blog is about how Scanidavian song writers write great song lyrics, for disambiguation about ‘scandanavian’ ‘silk’ or ‘trade’, kindly stroke a pickled goose with a copy of Now 38 – the one with Hot Chocolate’s ‘You Sexy Thing’ on it)

Dear Everyone/body, (ahhhh, the point of that slash will become clear as you read on ...in a subsequent chapter)

Foreword:

Before you read on, this is the full version of this blog post, that is to say, you are currently reading this blog post in full. If you were annoyed by the length and repetition of that last sentence I suggest you consult the Edited Version* also found on my page. If you are annoyed by my tone, style of writing, grammar, language, spelling, punctuation, syntax or level of thoroughness when listing, I suggest you re-read what you’ve read as not to miss the gist. Je rigole. You should really stop reading this blog, or any other written by me, or any other words you ever see written down as you are clearly a philistine without the common decency even to learn the definition of the word that most accurately describes you. I want to dedicate this blog to my mother, for no particular reason, not least because she believes I should become a plummer. Live

The Blog:

Now I’d class myself as a beat and tune disciple rather than a lyric lapper, when it comes listening to music that has words. And yet, Scandinavian lyricists have such linguistic poise that here I go on an analysis of how and why they are so Scandinavian ... I’m sorry did I say Scandinavian, Freudian slip there – yes my trainers have worn down after years of trampling photocopies of his paintings – what I really meant was brilliant. Brilliante. Anywho: I think Scandinavian songwriters are brilliant. Here’s why:

Scandinavians’ hold a unique position when it comes to articulating the world; they have a cutting tool that no others possess. Scandinavia is officially the most advanced region in English as a second language. That is, they can speak our language almost as well as we can. Recently in Paris, I bumped into a gentlemanly man from Sweden (or Norway) who used the word ‘consecrate’ in a pub. I told him that he would get smacked in the face for using such language in many an English pub. He apologised for his poor articulation; I clarified the opposite, and he smiled in glee realising his linguistic superiority over about 12% of the British population (for those within that 12% still reading this blog, his glee came from feeling superior to the 12% of the British population who don’t know what the word ‘consecrate’ means. Got it? And yes, 12% is very generous – it’s probably about 17. My point being: the Scandinavians’ are very good at speaking English. Ah yes, I hear you cry (yes, you, you with pretentious cardigan – Topman, £14.99?) but surely English people are even better speakers, or New Zealanders, or Australians, or ... or ... Americans dare I whip out the American-stupid cliché. Well yes cardigan boy, we are, mostly. And when I say mostly what I mean is: not mostly. Most native English speaking people in England listen to Chris Moyles speak English. They read ‘Take a Break’ magazine. Unfortunately, our language has become so infected with ill speakers its better to export our language, run it through renewable energy-sourced education systems in other countries, and wait to hear what the musicians of the next generation have to tell us about feelings, love, and all that. I say wait a generation, because the fool who imported ABBA was clearly premature.

Examples! You all shout (well, cardigan boy whispers due to his current ego meltdown), give us examples Mr Eat My Depth.

I’ll start with The Hives:

And I’ll start this start with the shouty opener from their 2004 album, ‘Tyrannosaurus Hives’. The song’s called ‘Abra Cadaver’. Hands up. Who can tell me what ‘cadaver’ means? Nope, no time to paste into dictionary.com, it means ‘a dead body, esp. human body to be dissected; corpse’ (reference: http://dictionary1.classic.reference.com/browse/cadaver)
Ever heard of it? I graduated with a BA in English and Philosophy from the University of Leeds last year. I must have read quite a few books in my time. I learnt the word about a week ago while doing a cryptic crossword in the Daily Telegraph (dad’s copy, I read the London Lite). Question: How the fuck did Howlin' Pelle Almqvist know that word? Ok on to the lyrics ...

... but first a lesson in rhyming. How do you ensure the ending word of your line rhymes with the next? Become fluent in the language by reading beaucoup de poetry? Shut up cardigan boy. And stop using pretentious mots de francais, its pretentious. No no, no need to learn all that just do a Howlin’ Pelle and ensure each word ends in the most common ending to a word there is: ‘eee’. Or, to avoid dispute over whether words like ‘jumpy’ should be accepted, just refine your language down to using two monosyllabic everyday necessities:

Ah no what's wrong with meI got no vision seeI was the target of a notion of submission seeOh yeah they needed me, I was the target seeThey tried to stick a dead body inside of me

Ahhhhh, Almqvist you hero ... only one vowel in your 8 letter surname and still you teach us how it’s done. And if people think he’s a rhyming cop out, they should speak to the new Poet Laureate. Well, no, they shouldn’t speak to her, she’s awfully well spoken for a gay (hmmm, homophobic? I forget irony is a difficult thing to tone in writing, I suppose that’s how Voltaire got away with it, God rest his soul), just read her poetry and compare. Stop disdaining me cardigan boy, I’ve got nothing against gays, in fact I’m thinking about buying one. Anyway, as a throw back to Pelle, you find me a better expression of the fear that goes through a young man faced with the pressure of going into the coffee- and email-fuelled world of business than ‘deadbeat regime rider’ ... I’m listening. I’m also listening to any suggestions on how I could restructure the above but one sentence as it’s both confusing and grammar-lacking. But fuck it, there’s no deadbeat regime rider inside of me.

Many songwriters use the inherent lack of punctuation in the vocal word to build mystery into their lyrics, yet the following Hives mastery deserves collegiate nods from college professors dwelling in the colleges that line the River Cam. Read:

You've done your math wellYou checked the figuresYou've done your math tellWho is the bigger

The above are lyrics transcribed from the song ‘B is for Brutus’ as they should be, that is, punctuation free. Let’s add punctuation and see what happens. Here’s one I did (in my head) earlier (and now I’m typing it):

You’ve done your math well.
You checked the figures.
You’ve done your math, tell,
Who is the bigger?

Here, Brutus has done his math ‘well’ and he’s checked his figures. Almqvist applauds him with a repetition ‘you’ve done your math’ then implores ‘tell, who is the bigger?’ Very Shakespearean, very dramatic; Who is the bigger, kind squire? Pray tell!

More interestingly, let’s punctuate the first two lines like this:

You’ve done your math, well?
You checked the figures?!

Here, Pelle questions Brutus: Have you done your math? Have you done it well? (For those interested he uses the French questioning style of placing the verb ‘Have’ after the pronoun ‘You’). He goes further and demands, ‘You checked the figures?!

This kind of ambiguity in language has existed in English for reams and reams of the published page, but how often do you see in British pop music, or even in high-brow conversation?

My final Hivesean focus focuses its focus on lyric economy. (Please tell me someone besides cardigan boy saw the irony in that sentence?) ‘See through head’ is about a person Almqvist believes stupid and therefore ascribes their head with the conjoined adjective ‘see-through’. He explains through his lyrics that this person is coming his way; he uses the following lyrics as a metaphor for how he will greet their arrival:

I got cutlery, got napkin,
Salt shaker, pepper spray
[my punctuation]
How brilliant. No pre verb needed, no: I HAVE got cutlery, not even I’VE got cutlery. No. Just ‘I got cutlery’, no possessive pronoun in the next part of the sentence, instead, just, ‘got napkin’. He’s so fucking ready he hasn’t got time to write good English, but which poets do? And then the ultimate, the sweet, oh-so simple pun which rounds off his rage: ‘salt shaker, pepper spray’. Ahh, we smile as we listen to the beginning of the lyric, Pelle’s going for the old food analogy to show his rival that he’s an animal and that he’s going to eat him for breakfast. But wait! What’s this? He’s got cutlery, he’s got napkin, [he’s got] salt shaker ... but ... but ... no ... that’s not ground pepper, that’s not even cracked black peppercorns ... that’s pepper spray! Almqvist you devil.

I am fully aware that the above paragraph was toned with a mocking sting, implying that I am being ironic about the Swede’s lyrical skills. Quite the opposite. Language deconstruction is wondrous and I’d use it more if what I said already wasn’t already so difficult to rearrange and rebuild. Good on you Almqvist. And as a farewell from this Brit, I’ll give you some lyrical genius from British dance music’s king of spin:

I got the poison
I got the remedy

Or, as Mr Chris Dangerous, Mr Vigilante Carlstroem, Dr Matt Destruction, Nicholaus Arson, and Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist like to say it:

You want antidote?
I got the poison

Which idiot has both the poison and the remedy?

Live.



*If confused, please read on: The original idea was to incorporate all Scandinavian lyrical genius into one blog submission. However, my eloquence, or loquaciousness to be more eloquent, has impelled – no-one compels me, besides the government and other institutions of authority – me to stretch the revelation out over several submissions. I’m also tired and don’t want to be up all night with work in the morning. So: other episodes of this blog idea will follow. Once completed, I’ll do a digestible round up of all chapters, for the lazy ones out there – kind of a ‘best of’ for those popular culturists, yes cardigan boy, you can nod to that one. The idea will be to create one Edited Version, but also a Micro-fiction version which aims to squeeze the idea into about 100 words. The above are just ideas and are subsequent to change.