Over the past 5 years my musical palette has broadened and taken on room for more colors. In many ways this music buying spree (and it has been a buying spree) is part of a larger renaissance, actually it is really more like an adolescence, an adolescence which is either a sequel or has just shown up properly for the first time. More interesting than which of these two types of adolescence it is, are the reasons (not all of which I am sure I am aware) that it is occurring at all at this point in my life. But that is not the point of this post. Even so, at this rate, I will be having my mid-life crisis in my sixties.

It is not even a post about the breadth of the palette, which has been expanded from almost exclusively listening to CCM in the late 80�s and early 90�s to include country and Brit pop and a bit of electronica and a lot of what I refer to as folk-pop. As this progression has occurred, I have come to appreciate music more for the music itself. Before, I saw the music simply as a vehicle for the lyrics, like the wine bottle and not the wine itself. This will sound odd to most everybody, except those who have either grown up in a highly moralistic framework and/or those who still value and are enthralled/appalled by the power of words. Even so, I still digress.
What has been a bit of a constant in my progression is that I am often still a bit of a sucker for emotive, emotional lyrics, both subtle and sappy (oh, I�ve sampled a bit of Emo, the ungenre, too). Sometimes this is well and good and makes me think of and aspire to Goodness and wholeness. A well crafted country song can do this. Sometimes, though, I can use a piece of music to just sort of emotionally wallow and this is not so healthy. Former roommate Dave would describe this as one of my “feminine tendencies.”
I am not really susceptible to wallowing with the music of Ms. Armstrong, or no longer at least, but some of her music readily lends itself to such. Perhaps I am no longer susceptible to her music because I began to think about it, and for better or worse, analytical dissection, more often than not, kills a thing, draining away its vitality and power. Think biology class frog. Of course, as a trade off, you gain some pretty useful knowledge, perhaps even wisdom. And, though you cannot go home again, you can return to a song or songs with a different sort of appreciation.
Ms. Armstrong, aka Dido, is interesting because her songs seem to oscillate between two extremes. Songs on her album No Angel careen from vociferous independence to rather alarming codependence, and Life for Rent has similar dynamics. As I noted to my class the other night when we discussed the definition of �persona,� I must remind myself that this does not necessarily reflect the character and life of Dido herself.
On Life for Rent, on the unhealthy fixation/codependent side of the spectrum, �White Flag� and �Don�t Leave Home� vie for top honors. Actually, it is really not a contest. �Don�t Leave Home� wins. In fact, so extreme are these lyrics that I would like to make a music video for it using clips from the movie Misery, which I have not seen but have seen enough clips of Kathy Bates enslaving and torturing James Caan to believe that it would work pretty well as humorous send up of the song.
This album also has its paens to hyper-independence: �Life for Rent� (which acknowledges this can leave you rather lonely), �See you when you’re 40,� and �This land is mine.� Then there is also this lovely, healthy song �See the sun,� which has sound advice for getting over a break-up
What I principally listen to Dido for, though, is her lovely melodies and hooks. She knows her business. And lyrically she accomplishes her purposes effectively as well. I also like songs that simply tell a story and perhaps my favorite Dido song of all is �Mary�s In India.� I like the wistful music and the way the refrain not only repeats but changes at the end of the song. And I like it that I can hear her accent, specifically on the words �India� and �cooked� and “books.” Listen to it (or at least a part of it). It’s good. The lyrics are below.:
danny is lonely cos mary’s in India now
she said she’d call but that was three weeks ago
she left all her things well, her books and her letters from him
but as the sun rises on Mary sets on him
just dance, just drink and just see the things
I’ll probably never get the chance to see
danny’s not eating, he’s drinking and sleeping
I saw him last night at party, he’s definitely thin
he says he’s happy, look pretty good but I think
that as the sun rises on Mary sets on him
just dance, just drink and just see the things
I’ll probably never get the chance to see
danny came over last night and I cooked for him
we talked about you Mary and how much we loved you still
h told me he’s packed up your books and your letters and things
and the sun sets on mry, it’s rising on him
and we danced and we drank and I’ve seen some things
you probably never got the chance to see
don’t worry, mary, cos I’m taking care of danny
and he’s taking care of me