Caught in the Carousel

"I choose not the suffocating anesthetic of the suburbs but the violent jolt of the Capital," says Virginia Woolf to her husband Leonard in the film adaptation of Michael Cunningham's The Hours. Even though at fifty-nine Woolf filled her pockets with stones and walked into the River Ouse with no intention of ever walking out, one can't help but think that had she lived in the suburbs, she might have killed herself a lot sooner.

In fact, after one listen to The Verve Pipe's "1229 Sheffield" one is almost sure of it.

A candid and wrenching portrayal of eviscerated dreams, the loss of hope and the deepest of marital loathing, "1229 Sheffield" is a scathing indictment of suburban existence and how it squeezes the life out those who live there.

Brian Vander Ark

Originally included on the Clay Pigeons soundtrack and later reworked on singer Brian Vander Ark's solo album Resurrection, the song is perhaps the most gutting romantic stalemate ever rendered in song. Not only that, but with all the loneliness and isolation of a Hopper painting and all the quiet devastation of a Richard Yates novel, it perfectly crystallizes the failure of the concept of the American family and the antiseptic life of the suburbs.

Told from the perspective of a former high school overachiever who married the cheerleader next door after getting her pregnant, "1229 Sheffield" is a baleful and broken elegy about domesticity. In the song's opening line, Vander Ark chokingly declares it's, "Another day of deflating your face into tears." The narrator has fallen off the wagon, surveys the wreckage of his life and laments, "We traded a trip around the world for a family instead." And then, with acid and regret on his tongue: "Our friends were dispersing while you were still nursing our boy."

Brian Vander Ark

Later, Vander Ark's illustration of just how bad the character's marriage has become is heartbreakingly acute: "The pet names that you once gave me/We soon gave to the pets/But I still come when you call them/Just to be sure." In the end of the song, with a last gasp of desperation and concession, Vander Ark sings, "God, I can't make you love me." It's a frank and honest moment of such sobering hopelessness, it's nothing short of thoroughly devastating. This is what dreams sound like when all the air is out, and all the desire is gone. "I don't have the strength anymore," Vander Ark sings and with a resignation that is decidedly palpable.

Hard at work on his new solo album, Vander Ark took the time to talk to CITC and break this track down.

Caught In The Carousel: Can you talk about where the idea for "1229 Sheffield" came from?

Brain Vander Ark: I've always been fascinated by the Christian mentality, when it comes to marriage. Young couples being convinced that marriage is a step best taken if an unexpected pregnancy occurs. This was the story of one such couple.

CITC: How long had the idea for the song been germinating?

BVA: Months. That's the usual for me. I've been working on a collaboration with Jeff Daniels and the guy writes beautiful lines within minutes of receiving the core idea. I've been working on my portion of our song for six weeks now, revisiting it over and over just to change a word or two. Probably seems pretentious, and it might be. It's also a pain in the ass.

CITC: Musically, what did you have in mind when you wrote it?

BVA: Musicality rarely matters in the early stage. An interesting melody is the first germ and then it takes a backseat to the story/lyric. I like to leave instrumentation ideas to producers.

CITC: Is it easier to write in the first person?

BVA: Yes...it's much easier.

CITC: Opening lines are always hard, but this is one of my favorites because it begins with the heart already broken. Can you talk about why you decided to start there?

BVA: It didn't occur to me right away to use it as an opening line. I had been playing around with that line in other song demos. It ending up fitting perfectly into this one. That's often the case.

CITC: Suburban dissatisfaction, matrimonial frustration and the loss of the self all seem to be touched on here—do you think the three are inextricably related?

BVA: Absolutely. I would throw "parental expectations" into that mix as well. They all go hand in hand. Young couple marries, buys a house they can't afford in a neighborhood near their parents. Buy a car, have a child. Then after a few years they start to wonder "that's it?"

CITC: It's a devastating number because the narrator seems trapped, lost and out of ideas, although at the same time he seems acutely aware of exactly what's gone wrong in his life. What were you hoping to communicate in his series of painful disclosures?

BVA: As simple as this paradox: In order to marry you have to be able to live alone. Or is that irony? Maybe both. You have to know and love yourself before you can know and love another.

CITC: Is the narrator giving up or giving in? In other words, is he quitting or resigning himself to the life he's living?

BVA: Resigned. He's finished. Clearly the pressures of society have crushed the "dream".

CITC: Where do you rank this song with the rest of your work?

BVA: Top three. I'm still happy to see the reaction from those who haven't heard it before. Some laugh, and others don't, but it usually gets some sort of reaction.

CITC: Do you still play it live?

BVA: I play it every night. Usually start with it to set the mood.

CITC: Interestingly, this number never appeared on a Verve Pipe album—why is that? Did you originally write it for a specific album?

BVA: I wrote it for the follow up album to Villains. We recorded it for Clay Pigeons, and no one was interested in revisiting it for the follow-up album. I said screw it—I'll do a solo album.

Internet: www.brianvanderark.com

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