Today’s slow drag is with “No Dancing,” from “My Aim is True,” released in 1977. The songwriting is credited to Elvis Costello. This piece packs a punch with its wily ways of power dynamics, its complicated negotiation of power distances, and its seemingly straight forward euphonisms that, when deconstructed, fracture into many sharp shards for our amusement. It’s been said a million times before, but wow, can you believe this piece was written before Mr. Costello was 23 years old? Simply remarkable. Oh, I know that she Has made a fool of him Like girls have done so many nights before Time and time again Now he’s so strange I don't know why But somebody, somebody has to cry There's gonna be no dancing when they get home The plaintive start to this piece, the weary sounding “oh,” might well give away any false bravado that floats throughout the rest of this complicated first verse. Told in the first person, with phrases such as, “I know,” and “I don’t know why,” the narrator nevertheless remains outside of the action by referring to “she” and to “him.” This sort of narration is not uncommon in Mr. Costello’s canon; it’s a great lesson to writers and poets who tend to wallow at the nerve endings of emotion rather than maintain a more suitable distance in order to observe the action better with a lot less bathos and more pathos. Very often, our first impulse upon hearing the information laid out in this verse, perhaps, is to draw a mental image of a heartless woman, a femme fatale. This quickly gives way, however, to the understanding that, whoever she is, she’s not the first nor the probably the last to make a fool of him. Mainly because he is the one inflicting this humiliation upon himself, lashing out in ways that we have all seen and have probably involved ourselves in somewhere down the line. So, of course, it’s a pretty easy assumption that no dancing is a thinly veiled reference to sex, a mere euphonism. Even from the very beginning, it can’t be overstated, not everything is exactly as it appears between these sheets. Much like the perpetrator of this indignity, if we jump to conclusions, we might miss so much of the joy that keeps these words alive some 40 years later. Along with other reasonable assumptions packed into this first verse, it’s also feasible to accept that the man and woman are going to the same home. Given the tumult of the proceedings, however, it is possible to assume they don’t know each other well, let alone live together. Thus, just maybe, this twists the notion of dancing as sex into dancing as mere self gratification, failed gratification at that. Or, this is the home truth result of trying to cheat and coming home late. All this ambiguity and intrigue has been laid out in 8 recursive lines. And I am certain there are still more iterations of this scenario that have not been considered here. The chorus after the first verse repeats how they’ll be no dancing, then ends with how they’ll be “no dancing then they get home.” This, most assuredly, will come up again shortly and cleverly. Now he's telling her Every little thing he's done Once he glanced at the jackets of some paperbacks Now he's read every one He's such a drag / He's not insane It's just that everybody / Has to feel his pain There's gonna be no dancing when they get home Having now dispensed with the first person narration, we’re plunged deep into the machinations of human relationships. To whom exactly is he confessing? Is it the woman who made of fool of him? Of course, because they all have. Yet, in reality, the woman did no such thing, as it was more than likely a product of his own strange personality. It’s remarkable how, in these first two verses, the blame game is merely feeble projection; it always comes back to his shortcomings and not anything to do with anything anyone else has down. This motif of writing strong and complicated women who are more than mere objects flows over this piece and straight on through to Hettie O’Hara. The gorgegous line, “once he glanced at the jackets of some paperbacks, now he’s read everyone,” in a career filled with one quotable line after another, this was one of my early favorites and still holds a warm place in my heart. I used to think of it as superficial knowledge, getting by on a few clever words here or there, but then realizing you have to put in the work. I still like that as a personal motto, yet there are so many more interpretations. Notably, strained fidelity that has finally been abandoned for want of flipping through a few pages. He's getting down on his knees He finds that the girl is not so easy to please Oh oh, after all, his nights were just a paper striptease She's caught it like some disease If he says no dancing There's gonna be no dancing There's gonna be no dancing on my own It’s difficult to tell what she has caught, but the revelation of how his nights were just a paper striptease calls back to the last verse of paperbacks nicely yet still remains opaque enough to tantalize. Notice how “no dancing when they get home” has changed to “no dancing on my own.” The revision this piece takes is mathematical in its precision. And yes, on his knees, finding she’s not so easy to please. Hold on to your first euphonism, because, true to all the other euphonisms in this piece, it’s about to have more layers draped upon it. She can't even speak to him He can't face her now He says "Even though I wanna shake your hand All I ever do is bow. So now you see How can it be. Why can't you give me anythin' but sympathy?" Four verses in and we’re still not sure who has the upper hand, if indeed there is an upper hand to be gained. She can’t speak to him. Is it because she’s mad or is it because he won’t allow it? Or, is it because he’s not there? He can’t face her, so maybe his confession is made in a vacuum or at some distance. Down on his knees is given new context into the subservient bow he now takes. The idiom, “bow the knee,” can be taken both literally and figuratively. It seems they will never be equals. To end this complicated piece with the rhetorical “why can’t you give me anything but sympathy?” throws the preceding lines out of kilter once again. Throughout this piece, the notification that there will be no dancing feels like a proclamation, but then again, it feels much like a resignation as well, especially with the request for sympathy, and the aforementioned “no dancing on my own” instead of “when they get home.” This piece swings back and forth between bravery and indifference depending on which verse is stuck in your head, depending upon what your own imagination draws from your personal experiences. There's gonna be no dancing on my own — Dig it Again, this has been a slow drag with “No Dancing” from 1977’s “My Aim is True.” It’s just another great example of how an Elvis Costello piece can mean many things to many people. In his 2015 autobiography “Unfaithful Music & Disappearing Ink,” Mr. Costello addressed how “No Dancing’s album mate, “Alison,” came about. “I have no explanation for why I was able to stand outside reality and imagine such a scene,” he wrote. Very early on, Mr. Costello continued, “I could sense there were people out there who perhaps really did harbor misogynistic feelings.” “Of all the strange slights and underserved accolades attached to my name over the years, ‘misogynist’ is the one term I find bewildering.” Instead of violence that many heard in the refrain of “Alison,” “I know this world is killing you,” he only heard culpability. Threads of this philosophy seem to run through his work to this day. Culpability. Funny, of the thousands of novel words he’s put into lyrics, I don’t believe “culpability” has ever been one of them. Just another example of how a good writer knows how to show rather than simply tell. And that’s it for today’s slow drag, my friend. Thank you for listening. So, until next time, adieu, my little ballyhoo. Comments are closed.
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AboutSlow Drag with Remedy is an Elvis Costello podcast appreciation. It's an exploration of linguistics, language, poetry, and clever wordplay as framed by the peerless poetry of the modern-day master, Elvis Costello. Slow Drag by Song
Poor Napoleon Alibi Church Underground The Big Light Georgie and Her Rival Joe Porterhouse No Hiding Place 20% Amnesia All This Useless Beauty Let Him Dangle King of Thieves Damnation's Cellar Stripping Paper Pidgin English Riot Act Bedlam The Quickening Art Luxembourg Chemistry Class Living in Paradise My Mood Swings Waiting for the End of the World Little Atoms Two Little Hitlers Crimes of Paris You Tripped at Every Step Needle Time Men Called Uncle Peace in Our Time The Loved Ones I Almost Had a Weakness Our Little Angel Invasion Hit Parade Turpentine Miracle Man A Voice in the Dark The Greatest Thing Satellite Hand in Hand Clubland Tart Glitter Gulch Stations of the Cross Science Fiction Twin Possession This Sad Burlesque Flutter and Wow Soul for Hire After the Fall Blue Chair Monkey to Man Mouth Almighty Watch Your Step ...This Town... Distorted Angel Worthless Thing No Dancing Miss Macbeth Charm School Poor Fractured Atlas Brilliant Mistake My Little Blue Window Suspect My Tears Coal Train Robberies Fish 'n' Chip Papers I Hope You're Happy Now Man Out of Time 13 Steps Lead Down Go Away Sweet Pear The Name of This Thing is Not Love Jimmie Standing in the Rain The Deportees Club The Birds Will Still Be Singing Starting to Come to Me Pay It Back Five Small Words Pretty Words Radio Silence Human Hands Night Rally I'll Wear It Proudly Motel Matches Drum and Bone Harpies Bizarre Nothing Clings Like Ivy Why Won't Heaven Help Me Next Time 'Round The River in Reverse A Room with No Number Clown Strike The Invisible Man My Most Beautiful Mistake All the Rage The Town Where Time Stood Still Episode of Blonde e of Blonde No Flag A Slow Drag with Josephine That Bridge I Burned Sour Milk Cow Blues You Little Fool Spooky Girlfriend Suit of Lights There's a Story in Your Voice Dishonor The Stars The Other Side of Summer Mischievous Ghost They're Not Laughing at Me Now White Knuckles Honey, Are You Straight or Are You Blind? Black and White World The World and His Wife
God's Comic The First to Leave Green Shirt The Man You Love to Hate Lip Service American Gangster Time Blame It on Cain The Spell That You Cast Lipstick Vogue The Difference Stella Hurt Tears before Bedtime |