In an era when the music industry is dictated by the fickle proclamations of the almighty dollar and when art and creativity are often jettisoned to satisfy the wishes of the nameless, faceless masses, there is much refreshment to be had for music and art lovers in bands like The Decemberists. These craftsmen and craftswomen are truly skilled tune-smiths and their latest, grandest and most ambitious effort, “The Hazards of Love”, shows that their craft is finely honed. Written primarily by the acclaimed wordsmith, the front man of the band, Colin Meloy, this album is truly an epic tragedy that is seamlessly performed.
The story of “The Hazard of Love” begins with a young maiden named Margaret attending to a wounded fawn that she came upon in the woods beyond the Offaly Wall. As she tends the fawn’s leg he changes and shape-shifts into a handsome young man named William. The story then shifts to Margaret back in her abode with fourteen other young maidens lazily passing the time while Margaret pines for her lover. It turns out, though, William and Margaret have been expressing their love rather passionately, for she discovers that she is pregnant by him and is forced out of her bower. Removing herself to the dark woods about, she calls for the taiga to lead her to William. Hearing her call, he comes for her and they join together once again. Unfortunately for them, the Forrest Queen, William’s adopted mother, comes and attempts to guilt him into leaving Margaret. Although he knew that the Queen had indeed saved him as a child, he claims that she has no right over him and begs her to let him have this one night with his Love. The Queen assents to this, but with a strong sense of foreboding, informing William that she is through with him. The Rake then enters the scene, introducing his vile self, gloating over the untimely death of his wife and new child during birth and then of his despicably wicked murders of his three remaining and unwanted children. With wild lust in his eyes and heart, the scheming Rake steals Margaret away from her beloved William. Taking her to his castle, the Rake is frustrated by the raging River, but true to her jealous form, the Queen escorts him across so that he might have his way with Margaret before disposing of her. In an impassioned zeal, William gives chase, only to himself be thwarted by the River. In his second bout of tragic foolishness, William promises his life to the River if only he will be allowed passage this one time as Margaret is yelling wildly for her Love while the Rake gloats over her. Suddenly, a triumphant William, having safely crossed the River, slays the vile Rake, who is instantly met in the afterlife by the gleeful ghosts of his three slain children. Unfortunately, having promised his life to the river, William pays his debt and the story ends with the deaths of three more people, even as William and Margaret promise to each other their eternal fidelity.
Lyrically, this album is a challenge. Meloy’s artistic signature is his complicated use of the English language, both in its delightful alliterative rhyme and in its anachronistic vocabulary. Poetic lines such as
“The prettiest whistles won’t wrestle the thistles undone”,
“And when young Margaret’s waistline grew wider
The fruit of her amorous entwine inside her
And so our heroine withdraws to the taiga”,
and
“And isn’t it a lovely way
We got in from our play
Isn’t it babe? A sweet little baby”
are throughout the album. Even the twisted proclamation by the Rake that “All right, all right, all right! No more a rake and no more a bachelor, I was wedded and it whetted my thirst, Until her womb started spilling out babies, Only then did I reckon my curse” is disturbingly lyrical genius and creatively constructed.
And yet, the deliciously intricate lyrics tell only half of the story.
Musically, The Decemberists’ melodic chops truly stand out in this album. Moving from light and airy “indie pop” to hard rock to country and everywhere cheeky in between, the music helps you feel and imagine the story as it takes its tragic toll on the characters. With the steady pace of “Won’t Want for Love” the pulse quickens with the apparent and unknown danger that surrounds Margaret as she looks for her cherished lover. The mournful wail of the steel guitar presides over the tender moments of William and Margaret, becoming most sorrowfully sweet even as the waves roll over the loving couple one last bittersweet time. As the oppressively low rock riffs of the Queen’s theme pound the senses, the dread of William is keenly felt as his mother crawls onto the scene. The quickened action of Williams’s theme, with the constant refrain of “the wanting comes in waves” triumphantly reports the news of William prevailing over the Rake. And with the airy sounds of the Rake’s haunting murdered children cynically singing sweetly to him in the afterlife a curious satisfaction is experience in the sardonically ironic reunion.
The Decemberists do not write or play easy music. The listener must be willing to put effort into the participative act of listening to and understanding their music, and it takes a few listens to each of their albums to truly understand what is going on. As frustrating as that might be at times, it is an appropriate challenge, as we are so adept at lazily consuming art without any thought or effort put into engaging it.
As for the story itself, it is obviously not a happy tale. From the terribly controlling Forrest Queen turning her adopted son William into a shape-shifting fawn, to the demented Rake rejoicing over the death of his fourth child and his wife at birth and then subsequently killing his remaining children one at a time (maliciously burning his son for fighting back), to the tragic submission of William and Margaret and their unborn child to the cold reality of the river’s frigid waves; the story of The Hazards of Love is truly disturbing. Yet, there is something instructive here. Reading through humanity’s great epics (the Greek Oedipus Trilogy and the Irish Ulster Cycle for instance) one is struck with how terrible they all are. Every epic story, poem and play always deals in bloody murder, chilling fate and hopeless, helpless wickedness. Even the epic stories of love like Romeo and Juliet are fraught with sadness and tragedy. There truly are hazards of love. It is not safe to love. Love is not always happy, at least according to how we define happiness. Love was hazardous for William and Margaret, and never was their love greater than when death overcame them. Love was hazardous to the Forrest Queen, as it led her to revive a son whom then she lost. Love was hazardous to the Rake’s wife, as she loved a man who delighted in her death. Love was even hazardous for the Rake, who died at the hands of the impassioned lover William.
Even the apex of all story-telling, the Bible’s communication of the Story of Stories, that of Jesus the Christ, is itself terribly sad, although its end is truly happy. The Love of Christ was hazardous to Himself, as it led Him to slaughter. The Love of Christ is hazardous to us, as it leads us to die to ourselves. Love suffers wrongs and is patient in times of much trouble.
In much of humanity’s great literature and art, there are no happy endings. What is the reason for this? Simply put, humanity is very knowledgeable of and experienced with sadness, sin and suffering. It is what we know. It is what we understand. It is what connects us and connects to us. In this life we cannot escape it. Stories that deal in such depressing realities impact us in ways that nothing else can. The folks in The Decemberists understand this as they tell their stories.
