You're Lost Beneath The Sea, And You Didn't Wait For Me, You Left Me Here, Left Me Hangin' On

--"Rain", The Blake Babies

RAIN
by The Blake Babies

You’re lost beneath the sea
And you didn’t wait for me.
You left me here, left me hangin’ on.
When I knew you’d drowned,
Did you think I’d wait around?
When I woke up, you were already gone.

You could waste your life feeling lonely
Or you could waste your life feeling pain.
When you carry the weight of one too many yesterdays,
You won’t know to come in from the rain.

You dug up your own grave.
You’ve no life left to save.
You’re always saying, saying you can’t go on.
Well, I’ve been beneath the sea
And I couldn’t hardly see.
When I woke up, you were already gone.

I’ve wasted time feeling lonely.
I’ve wasted half my life feeling pain,
But at least I feel the weight upon my shoulder.
At least I know to come in from the rain.
At least I know to come in from the rain.
You won’t know to come in from the rain.

----

There are certain songs like "Pictures of Success" that transcend mere fodder for listening. They are not just important to me, but also become a keystone in my life not only for the message for they present as well as the time during which I heard each one of them. "Rain" by The Blake Babies has always been a song that I had a deep-seated connection to. I was drawn to it the first moment I heard it. I'm not even exactly sure why, but it made an immediate emotional impact as soon as the first notes began.

The litmus test for if a song really is an integral part of my character or personality has always been if I would use it in a film that I'd be writing and directing. If I had the choice to use any ten to fifteen songs, which of the catalog I possess would make the cut. Now, as the years have come and gone since I devised the criteria I've changed songs in and out, replacing them as newer material appeared and older material ceased being relevant. I've actually printed out a list from time and time, and it's amazing to see how every five to ten years how drastically that list changes. I've had everyone from That Dog to Pinewood Derby make the cut. I've had songs from the 80s, 90s, and the current decade all seem important to my movie. In short, there hasn't been too many constants in the list. One exception, though, is "Rain". It has and probably forever will be what I think of as the perfect introduction song to my movie.

Every time I hear it, I picture a pair of people--sometimes a couple, sometimes two friends, but always the look of tiredness and numbness on their face--ambling slowly in a jeep down an arrow-straight desert highway. This song sticks out in my memory because it is the perfect song either to be heard on the radio in the car or overlaid the visuals in the movie itself. The Blake Babies have always been key at capturing the angst, the turmoil, of everyday life without hitting you over the head with it. Their songs never particularly spoke of being angry or bitter towards the inequities of life; they've always been these songs of acceptance of the situation and of a quiet hope that the particulars can always be changed. "Rain" especially captures this mood perfectly. Just as the desert scene I have floating in my head speaks volumes of a painfully dreary life for the pair, the song seems to be indicting them to revel in their desolation. However, just as the movie's beginning is only a point from which to make a journey and a transformation so does the song give rise to the notion that, despite the circumstances, there will be a junction where one will be able to move past those same feelings.

I don't have to tell some of you that one of my favorite moods to set my stories in is one of wistfulness and forlorness. It's the whole mixture of longing and hope that really tugs at my heartstrings. That's just the kind of art, music, and narratives I find myself drawn to and I cannot simply think of another piece of music besides the aforementioned "Pictures of Success" that truly captures these two key elements.

I was chatting briefly with Carly the other day about how I'd edit this movie and she asked me why "Rain". The only answer I could give her is that the song really is a part of me now. It's like shorthand for a lot of the scenes I write, a lot of the feelings I go through, and generally represents a whole genre of mojo shivers. It's possibly the easiest way I have to explain to people how I'm feeling. "Oh, mojo? He's in a 'Rain' kind of mood." 'Nuff said. The song has become such a comfort to me that I've almost started looking forward to it when I get in those certain moods. A lot of people have comfort foods or comfort movies, I have comfort songs. Depending on the state of emergency I'll break out a song that I haven't heard in ages just because I know it'll cheer me up. It's not because they're particularly happy or upbeat; it's because they're the opposite--downbeat and dreary. They're just the appropriate environment within which to complete my contemplation. When I'm feeling semi-bad, I turn to appetizers like "The King of Yesterday". When my problems get more serious, I turn to The Cure and songs like "Pictures of You" or "Letter to Elise." But when the situation seems hopeless, that's when I break out the gourmet stuff. That's when the familiar strains of "Rain" instantly do wonders for my wallowing. It's impossible to be sad when surrounded by sadness. It's like ice cream in the middle of winter; it feels natural and you gain the perspective that anything you're facing just isn't as extreme as you thought it was.

Listening to "Rain" is the most natural act of self-reconciliation I can think of.


at least I know to come in from the rain...

If you haven't heard this song, you simply must do yourself a favor and go check it out. It may not be your cup of tea, but I guarantee it will leave an impression with you that you will not forget.

And don't be surprised if you hear it playing in a movie coming really soon.

Yours Swimmingly
mojo shivers