Shepard’s Bay: Lyrical Dissection
I took the mountain pass down to Shepard's Bay
I wrote another's name in the hotel register
I had to see you, the words were fire on my tongue
I had to see you, but when I saw you, we just fought as we've always done
Now the city only bends and sways
I'm running out of oxygen
So I'll follow the river down past Shepard's Bay
I took the mountain road down to Shepard's Bay
I saw a glint of light in the rear view mirror
I swore I saw you, wearing that scarlet suit of pain
I swore I saw you, but when I turned my head there was nothing but blacktop lane
People like the literal interpretation of lyrics. “What does that mean”? To be frank, madam, it often doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. I fall into a minor trance, channel whatever decides to present itself to me, and try to not ask too many questions. In the end I cobble together my headstones and knit something out of it. Having said that, here’s commentary on every fucking line in this song, because I have just that much ego to think anyone cares.
“I took the mountain pass down to Shepard’s Bay”
I like inventing places to set songs in. Tom Waits said that songs need location, smell, memories. I think songs should ideally invent their own universe, different laws of physics, gravity all akimbo, but a fictional location on a map will do.
“I wrote another’s name in the hotel register”
We had watched “I’m dying up here” which opens with this stunning and disturbing scene of a comedian who gets on Johnny Carson, kills, checks into a motel under an assumed name, drinks a six, and throws himself off the balcony. It’s only a pity that hotel registers are archaic and probably nobody knows what the hell I’m saying.
“I had to see you, the words were fire on my tongue”
The “you” in this character is more a void than anything; a longing and an expression of the singer’s pain more than a real person. I’ve always wondered if “you” always means the listener. I suspect it does and it doesn’t.
“I had to see you, but when I saw you, we just fought as we’ve always done”
I’ve often dreamt, nightmarishly, that when I go to speak there’s no words, no hope of speaking, and in some of them there’s someone else, smiling cruelly at my lack of voice. I also think maybe this line is trying to speak our aggrieved disconnects from reality; we drive our cars around crafting the perfect thing to say to someone who’s hurt us, but the reality of the interaction is always more complicated.
“Now the city only bends and sways, I’m running out of oxygen
So I’ll follow the river down past Shepard’s Bay”
Sometime long after the lyrics were finished I tried to untangle where and what Shepard’s Bay actually was. I thought maybe a prison, it seemed to fit the narrative well enough, especially “that scarlet suit of pain”. Maybe somewhere in here I was thinking about Matthew the Con Man, who I travelled with back in 2009 or so. He had crazy blue eyes and a forked tongue, and his selfishness bordered on evil. He would pray to God before walking into a store to steal shit from them. I wonder if he’s dead now.
Having done this strange dissection, I’m left with the same impression as when I started; the circle cannot be divided. Ripping it apart and seeing what a spleen does does not describe a human being.