Paul: Love is, Most Definitely, the Drug

Does this sound familiar? I listen to certain bands/musicians in certain specific situations or settings. One of my favorite times to listen to music is when I’m making dinner–that is almost a must. Preparing food–must have some tunes to accompany it. One of my go-tos over the past few years is the band Big Thief. They are generally mellow and folky, but their songs-written by lead singer and outstanding lyricist Adrianne Lenker–often offer a wealth of narrative and psychological details in a compressed, tuneful arrangement. Plus, their songs call for repeat listening; many are lyrically obtuse, so dense with detail that I cannot confidently offer an interpretation. For instance, try pinning down “Cattails,” “Simulation Swarm” and “Not.” These songs give Thom Yorke, Bob Dylan and Wallace Stevens a run for their money in terms of complexity and ambiguity. Though I have a general feel for each song, the footing is tricky and often uncertain.  

A prime of example of Lenker’s expressive lyrics is their ballad, “Paul,” which is a bit more transparent and also, quite the poignant portrayal of a specific kind of difficult-to-shake/constantly-smoldering love. There is a vulnerable immediacy to the band’s performance of this brief song, one of the reasons it is a favorite Youtube spot to linger (try listening to this song without becoming moved by the performance). Rendered in the first person, the speaker can barely contain herself from letting Paul inside the house, despite her hesitations. We can sense the moral battle raging within the speaker as her mouth goes dry and as she has to physically contain herself with the entrance wall. Instead, they go for a drive, drinking and fooling around in the abandoned freight train yard. He turns off the lights to his car and the rest is obvious. 

As such, the song illustrates a kind of irresistible impulse behind this relationship. Even though the speaker hopes to keep Paul at bay, she cannot bring herself to do that–so strong is her feelings/desire for him. The refrain underscores the magnetism of their relationship: 

I'll be your morning bright good night shadow machine

I'll be your record player baby if you know what I mean

I'll be a real tough cookie with the whiskey breath

I'll be a killer and a thriller and the 'cause of our death 

Not only is this relationship seemingly surreptitious but it also contains an underlying lingering darkness embedded within the last line. This is a common Big Thief motif–appearing even stronger in the almost-terrifying stalker song “Watering.” In “Paul” we get the sense even early on that the speaker knows this relationship is not a great idea but that they are as connected as a record and a turntable. 

As the song continues, it becomes less about immediate action and more about reflection and self-awareness. The speaker intelligently realizes that no relationship can solve her inner turmoil (“I realized there was no one who could kiss away my shit”). Although Paul makes her feel loved momentarily, in the months that follow she seemingly also becomes aware of the fact that there is an imbalance in the power-dynamic; she holds the cards: Paul is overly sensitive and she would hurt him if they continued. As a result, she cuts off the relationship. “I’ll push you from my brain.” 

The last twenty seconds of the song, however, offer the most heartbreaking moments, as the reflective speaker looks back on the relationship that she is now ending:

I was your starry-eyed lover and the one that you saw

I was your hurricane rider and the one that you'd call

We were just two moonshiners on the cusp of a breath

And I've been burning for you, baby, since the moment I left

Even though the narrator knows that this relationship is over and even though she just ended it, she still continually burns for Paul despite it all. The imagery within the last moments of “Paul” offer a kind of badassery typical of Big Thief songs: moonshiners, hurricane riders. They are at the cusp of death and almost confronting it, embracing the razor’s edge–and perhaps, for the speaker, this is the appeal. This song offers the portrayal of love as a kind of addiction (stealing a page from Bryan Ferry’s songbook, perhaps). We are left wondering if their rendezvous are really finished or if this is just another record side ending, ready to be flipped over.