Common People
Tell me what you think of the lyrics of this song.
Common People by Pulp
She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge,
she studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College,
that's where I,
caught her eye.
She told me that her Dad was loaded,
I said "In that case I'll have a rum and coca-cola."
She said "Fine."
and in thirty seconds time she said,
"I want to live like common people,
I want to do whatever common people do,
I want to sleep with common people,
I want to sleep with common people,
like you."
Well what else could I do -
I said "I'll see what I can do."
I took her to a supermarket,
I don't know why but I had to start it somewhere,
so it started there.
I said pretend you've got no money,
she just laughed and said,
"Oh you're so funny."
I said "yeah?
Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here.
Are you sure you want to live like common people,
you want to see whatever common people see,
you want to sleep with common people,
you want to sleep with common people,
like me."
But she didn't understand,
she just smiled and held my hand.
Rent a flat above a shop,
cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool,
pretend you never went to school.
But still you'll never get it right,
cos when you're laid in bed at night,
watching roaches climb the wall,
if you call your Dad he could stop it all.
You'll never live like common people,
you'll never do what common people do,
you'll never fail like common people,
you'll never watch your life slide out of view,
and dance and drink and screw,
because there's nothing else to do.
Sing along with the common people,
sing along and it might just get you through,
laugh along with the common people,
laugh along even though they're laughing at you,
and the stupid things that you do.
Because you think that poor is cool.
I want to live with common people,
I want to live with common people etc...
she studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College,
that's where I,
caught her eye.
She told me that her Dad was loaded,
I said "In that case I'll have a rum and coca-cola."
She said "Fine."
and in thirty seconds time she said,
"I want to live like common people,
I want to do whatever common people do,
I want to sleep with common people,
I want to sleep with common people,
like you."
Well what else could I do -
I said "I'll see what I can do."
I took her to a supermarket,
I don't know why but I had to start it somewhere,
so it started there.
I said pretend you've got no money,
she just laughed and said,
"Oh you're so funny."
I said "yeah?
Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here.
Are you sure you want to live like common people,
you want to see whatever common people see,
you want to sleep with common people,
you want to sleep with common people,
like me."
But she didn't understand,
she just smiled and held my hand.
Rent a flat above a shop,
cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool,
pretend you never went to school.
But still you'll never get it right,
cos when you're laid in bed at night,
watching roaches climb the wall,
if you call your Dad he could stop it all.
You'll never live like common people,
you'll never do what common people do,
you'll never fail like common people,
you'll never watch your life slide out of view,
and dance and drink and screw,
because there's nothing else to do.
Sing along with the common people,
sing along and it might just get you through,
laugh along with the common people,
laugh along even though they're laughing at you,
and the stupid things that you do.
Because you think that poor is cool.
I want to live with common people,
I want to live with common people etc...
Well?
What Pulp addresses in this song, is in some ways, heartbreakingly true. For those rich people who are somewhat (not totally) aware of a world outside of diamonds and silks and first-class trips to London and champagne and caviar and parties, for those who give more than a perfunctory thought or, usually, shudder to the world inside that derelict hovel on the pavement at Dadar, the world of the middle class or the poor, of lines in Sahakari Bhandar and ration cards, of bank loans for festivals and daughters' weddings, the general reaction has been fascination. A tendency to romanticise the poor. To escape from the rarefied pressure of high society and it's expectation, no less real, however less absolutely difficult it may seem, than that of individuals inhabiting the lower strata of society.
To many, this sounds like an excuse. In a world of superficiality, where you are judged and then befriended or ignored on the basis of the amount of money you have, the car you drive, what you wear, the places you chill at, who your parents are, it's pretty hard to deal with the unreality of it. And if you belong to a certain level, it's not something you can avoid forever. Money doesn't substitute for family time. "Quality" time of half an hour a day doesn't cut it. The excessive disposable income sends you searching for solutions to drown out the utter ennui and predictability that fills your life. Maybe its drink, drugs, cigarettes. Maybe its fast cars. Maybe it's the women who will be drawn to you (for women, they suffer from a dearth of available men). All of which are physically and emotionally risky. Maybe you don't need to worry about the basic needs like food, clothing, shelter. But you feel the strong lack of security, of love and belongingness. You may have access to cognitive and aesthetic pleasures, but what use of that when your mind is already skewed towards distrust and aloofness? How can one be alone with oneself when one cannot be happy with other people? You are as lost as those struggling to survive. You are foundering in the sea of your own mind.
Therefore the middle class bastion provides welcome escapist relief. It seems to have made peace with its lot. It is romanticised through it's impressions of family unity, of joint families with laughing members, who eat together, stay together, cry together, see each other through. Where there is no difference betwen mother and aunt. Neighbours chatting, exchanging milk and onions and ice. Building ladies babysitting children. Huddled around a TV to watch a show, grandmothers telling stories, doing your own groceries. Togetherness all around.
The feeling upon encountering this is wistfulness that those happy people, however hard their life may be, VALUE who they have. A desire, inhibited by a reserve and fear that you don't have what it takes, to enter that world. A longing to feel something. To be loved and to be shown it in simple human gestures. To love. Unconditionally.
Naive, no?
posted by Princess Joya | 3:53 am
10 Comments:
I completely missed your point. Maybe it's because I am from the middle class but I will take the emotional and physical risk (especially the fast cars and women being drawn part) with relish, if only someone would make me filthy rich enough so that I can concentrate on solving existential problems
You said: "Therefore the middle class bastion provides welcome escapist relief." Intuitively, however, true it may seem, I think, it is a fallacy. Middle class people are middle class, not by choice, but by their condition. If they could help it (or for that matter, anyone) they would want to be rich or super rich. Yes, born into a middle class background, you are "sheltered" from the harsh excesses of rich people - boredom, drugs, women, alcohol, etc. But the modern day middle class also face this strife to become rich, or move up the social ladder. Their family lives are also under pressure - sexually, emotionally, keeping up with the Joneses etc. So, happiness is truly not a function of wealth or class. You can be poor and unhappy, and you can be happy and rich. Its all about perspective, I think, and what you make do with choices. But the "happy" middle class projected in the media is a load of bull to sell more Cadburies.
Madhavan,
I suppose the point was... how would you feel if someone sent you that song? From whichever perspective?
I think existential problems is simplifying the context. The sense of unhappiness can be so overwhelming that you're drowning in depression inside. Everyone, rich or poor, wants to be doing what they truly want without having to worry about the money or what people will say etc.
C.O., you're right. It is a fallacy. The reality from the insider's perspective is usually different from what it is outside. It is all about maintaining a healthy state of mind. Hence the popularity of modern-day fashionable spiritual fixes such as Deepak Chopra, Robin Sharma, Art of Living etc. Our ancient wisdom and archaic language loses relevance for an era easily bored, distracted and materialistic. Few rich people have connections with middle class people, unless they went to a middle-class school, and the distance gradually increases with age. They're only exposed to servants (who remain anonymous because most of their families are in villages or a distant basti) or unidimensional employees.
You are right, everyone wants to be doing what they truly want but the problem comes when they dont know what they want and that is about 95 per cent of the population. Most of us are drifters in search of something that we dont even know and that is an existential problem. What puzzled me about your post was identifying loneliness, ennui, drugs, women, alcohol as a problem of the rich and them looking at the middle class with envy. I would have thought that these were more the poor man's problem. For example, the biggest drug addicts are street children, the biggest and maximum number of alcoholics are those who drink country liquor, loneliness is universal because it is something to do with way our brains are made (there one exsitential problem is solved!!) and money cant change that.
And I think most of the rich work pretty hard to remain rich, even the page 3 types. There are of course many who dont but they are too minuscule and insignificant to even bother about.
Maybe it's a youth thing then. As you get older, your mind just gets inured to your situation?
Dont know if 'inured' is the word for it.
For a long long time, I took the pointlessness of everything almost like an ideology. But you get tired and bored of that too. You get tired of wallowing in depression and looking at everyone and everything with cynicism, contempt and ridicule. Then you start looking for ways to beat this disease. And so without you realising it, a meaning is being born. Thus life twists and turns taking you in its wake. Even if you just sit at home, giving it all up, from some corner somewhere someone something comes up and the game is rolling again. It won't last of course. But now you know the dynamics of it and so you realise that even if there is no point to it, you can create meanings within that vacuum.
But isn't that attachment?
of course it is. what's wrong with attachment.
the journey is not from attachment to detachment; it's from numbness to life.
before you become god you have to become human first (that sounds really corny!)
Like they say, "The grass is always greener on the other side!"
Madhavan,
Point taken. Just to be a smartass, I'd say, "as opposed to bestial?" but that is pointless. You're right about trying to add meaning.
Grey Shades: Indeed!
Post a Comment
<< Home