Jens Lekman :: Black Cab
I’m going to smile and I’m going to like it.
I am going to sit on your overstuffed couch in “West Town”. I am going to feign excitement for this party. I am going to pretend to enjoy the massacre of a margarita you made in your blender. I am going to stare your dog in the face, and manufacture interest in touching his soggy mange ridden skin, and sloppy nose.
Oh, and when your friend who you think will really “have chemistry” with me, even though the only thing we have in common is being homos, touches my shoulder and winks, I am going to NOT throw up in my mouth. I am going to pretend the American Eagle Outfitter visor he is wearing and his constant use of the word “fierce” is cute. I am going to pretend I can tuck my snobbery into me - the malignant fucking anger I have for forced fun - when I am inconsolable and foul - I will hide so no one will be uncomfortable while they dip another chip into the powdered hummus you are serving.
And I am going try not to ruin the party for my friends. I am going to try not to vibe the room out with my radioactive rage and obvious disdain for everything around me. I am going to try not to be a fucking dick.
Sometimes you can’t cheer yourself up. Jens Lekman gets that. Sometimes you just dread the world. And you know, it’s actually ok.
The lyrics and tone in Black Cab are a bit incongruous. While Jens’ almost lackluster vocal performance lines itself up in tandem with the seemingly up-beat tempo, there is some weird polarity going on. Yes, he says:
“Don’t want to look this dead, don’t want to feel this dread.”
BUT - there is this weird pardon he accrues for his darkness. Because of the almost ambivalence with the positive and the negative, you kind of just take the song at face value. All he really wants to do is go home.
And I am going to pretend I never feel this way.
Black Cab (6.7MB MP3)
Jens Lekman (homepage)
katy said on thursday, october 02nd, 2008
barbara said on wednesday, october 08th, 2008
I’m glad that a song (and blog) was written about the very real “party-pooper” phenomenon. Good for you for sticking in there and fighting the good fight. Me, I’ll let others do the fighting while I got to bed early. And alone.
Instead of getting in the black cab I used to dramatically and pointedly read at uncomfortable parties or shows. Then I moved on to Plan B: More Whiskey. You have introduced me to Operation Powdered Hummos, in which I carry a packet with me at all times: 1. Feel ackward, 2. Add water, 3. Go to town.
In the end, why CAN’T we just leave? Friends will send angry texts, but they always forgive you. I’m going to chalk it up to eternal optimism: we are always ready for this party to get crazy, for our foxy soulmate to walk through the door, for the sing-along or fireworks. Anyway, all is not lost. You got an awesome blog post out of it.