Some songs tell a story while somehow eschewing every convention of storytelling. No before/after, no characters, no plot, no event. Nothing happens to nobody and yet, somehow, there’s a story being told. Emotion is conveyed. We feel it.
As a writer, I sometimes envy songwriters who work this way. I wish I could string together a bunch of evocative phrases and call it a story, but it doesn’t work so well on the page, without the music to fill in the empty spaces this kind of technique necessarily creates.
“Country Down,” by Beck is a great example of this sort of thing. What’s it about? I have no idea. Who’s telling the story? Beats me. Who is it about? Dunno. When/where? Not a clue, but man, I feel so much when I listen: nostalgia, loss, weariness, open landscape, big sky, cold wind, cattle, smoke, dirt roads, pickup trucks.
Beck’s music and singing style is unhurried, tired, maybe depressed. Definitely down. Way down. With the title and first line, we know we’re down and out in the country — stylistically and lyrically:
Oh country down
Where I found my proving ground
All along the floodline
Wheels are turning around
The hills roll out like centuries
Pass by without a sound
Just a mile outside of town
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