A personal response to "Killer Parties" by The Hold Steady.
All lyrics quoted by Craig Finn.
Killer Parties by The Hold Steady has proved itself a trojan horse to me. As my ears welcomed in its seemingly familiar exterior back in 2008, I was unaware, that slowly over time, its characters, concepts, and sounds would hypnotise me. Now, like the moon on the tide, this recording pulls me in at regular intervals in my life, simultaneously offering me questions and answers for the human condition. It is a friend that has been there at important moments.
From the outset, I love how the high-pitched distorted guitar notes
fade-in ever so tentatively before a G chord is checked. It is like
seeing an actor position themselves for a scene before the curtain is
raised. These informal meanderings flicker like a candle, and help
illuminate the determination in the firm drum pattern as it enters. This
moderate driving beat, synchronised with the bass line, holds the
resolve of the characters in the song; their thirst for life, to go ever
onward. Though hi-hats are loosened from time-to-time, and some cymbals
are used to punctuate refrains, the beat is uncompromising throughout,
The more erratic natures in this song (including forms of anxiety,
excitement, depression, mania etc.,) are explored through the guitar
parts.
After the backbone sequence repeats twice, with gentle sorrowful guitar lines moving like shadows to the pulse, Craig Finn’s rough voice comes out the dark.
“If they ask about Charlemagne.”
The lyrics immediately put you inside a multitude of tensions.
“If…” Something is in the balance. Something may or may not happen.
“they…” Who are they?
The line concludes with emphasis on its subject - Charlemagne; one of the characters Finn weaves throughout THS songs.
This song holds extra import in terms of its commentary on this pimp/drug dealer, and indeed the wider world of song he occupies, as it offers concluding thoughts for the “Almost Killed Me” tome, and it is here we leave these stories for the meanwhile. What happens in this song is what will lead the echoes in the listener’s memory (until the next instalment, Separation Sunday.) It has been argued that this character was christened after the focus of the Steely Dan song ‘Kid Charlemagne’ (a tribute to an LSD chemist, Augustus Owsley Stanley III.)
Even isolated from the context of the album, the name Charlemagne conjures up so many images. It’s grandeur and gravitas cannot help but amplify expectations of this person’s importance. Who is this figure? As someone born with a culturally plain name, I am envious of his identifier, and instinctively speculate on my inferiority in relation to someone with a name so grand. It’s sonic relationship with the word charlatan also peaks curiosity. Prominent examples of the name go back to Holy Roman Emperors, all informing a history of power behind the graceful word of soft syllables.
“Be polite and say something vague.”
Decisive instruction and authority here; pay attention, this advice is important. Following the mystery in the opening line, these commands bring the frame of attention in closer on the conversation. Their mouth is near our ear, and the discussion is more intimate, immediate and vital. As a listener, you feel uniquely targeted to receive this information.
“Be polite…”
Politeness is commonly the result of a wish to show respect to someone, and is often intuitive. However, here its meaning is complicated. We are instructed that, in advance of any meeting where Charlemagne will be discussed, we must be ready with politeness as a pre-set disposition; this behaviour is to be cultivated for the purpose of illiciting a certain reaction/set of effects. The importance of our present feelings at such an occasion are relegated in importance. It is a firm request to be ready to show politeness, regardless. What was once a more honourable quality is subverted by an authority demanding it. I particularly relate to this enforced etiquette, growing up in England, with its wealth of contradictions in this area.
With this extra information, our initial intrigue is directed towards feelings of suspicion, and we imagination a narrative with more sinister complications.
“Say something vague…”
Our role is to obfuscate, blur the lines. What respect we assumed from being privileged to this information, we must now reevaluate. Charlemagne is the subject of our narrators affection, and we are being requested to serve wishes for him. This request starts to feel evermore like a desperate grab for love, a last attempt at plastering the holes in a cracking dam. It feels as futile as trying to help Christ run away from The Cross. Though the lyric is delivered lightly, its politics of promoting misunderstanding and fallacy adds a further sourness to this unfolding scene.
“Like ‘another lover lost to the restaurant raids.’”
Just before the chord progression falls into the V of the sequence (the climactic tension of this stanza) Finn throws away this mysterious, and deliciously rhythmic phrase to the wind. The illusion of this overly sentimental image only further highlights the sad reality of the harder life Charlemagne has lived. The false sanitised picture melts in the mind to the realities of living outside of state law, like a boiled sweet losing its form to reveal its a sour centre. There is deep compassion demonstrated in these opening sentiments, showering thoughts of protection and forgiveness onto a character who is far from finding peace.
“If they ask why we left in the first place.”
Say we were young and we were so in love.
I guess we just needed space.”
Building on the structure of the first verse, the nature of this discourse moves its focus from Charlemagne’s conflict, to the personal confessions of the narrator. Begging similarly, hoping to escape oppression themselves, our singer begins to bargain with possible explanations and excuses. The ‘I guess’ in the penultimate line removes a further level of accountability for his actions, and this in turn reveals a deep vulnerability through this confession. Even in hindsight, he cannot command any firm comprehension of what has happened to him and his companion. He starts to chart a journey full of excitement and spontaneity, but there is a sense that his mind is catching up on the reality of experiences, maybe as someone dealing with trauma or epiphany.
“We heard about this place… they called the United States.”
This verse concludes with a moment of bitter whimsy, and a righteous grab for identity. Setting up a reveal for what we imagine will be a lesser known rendezvous, a smaller town perhaps, the line concludes with a twist. The place was the USA, in all of its entirety; both a wide geographical scope, and also a psychological and metaphorical journey. For a long time I misheard the final phrase as, ‘there called the United States.’ The substitution lent the phrase additional patronisation in my mind.
“We found out Virginia really is for the lovers.
Philly is full of friendly friends that will love you like a brother.
Pensacola parties hard with poppers, pills and Pepsi.
Ybor city is tres speedy but they throw such killer parties.”
The third verse, and conclusion of this section, is the blossoming of the flower. From the guarded confessions, with moments of vulnerability breaking through the veil, these four lines revel in the beauty of lived experience, attributing values to visited locations. All of these positive discoveries testify to the benefit of engagement and adventure. At once what was not known, has now been “found out”. The last two verses chart events from the perspective of a couple - “we.” By emphasising the idea of unity, and shared experience, the story is given more warmth. It broadens the description of the bravery involved; not only has this confidant embarked on a journey of discovery to new places, they have also been open to sharing this life with another at the same time. The implied companion is most likely Holly, another main character in THS songs.
The alliteration throughout the sandwiched lines of this verse are is playful and ridiculous. This spirit alongside the rhythms in the language, all add to the illusion that the song is gaining pace.
“Tres speedy…”
This colloquial and euphemistic turn of phrase is joyously succinct in its colourisation of Ybor city. I have never visited this place, I might never manage to visit, but I have gone to this city in my mind. In this painted world, Ybor city is a spiritual place. A boozy Babylon. A slippery heaven. Finn is masterful at pulling character, plot and landscape together with economical language. This song is one of the greatest testaments to this (along with How A Resurrection Really Feels from Separation Sunday) as it ties all of those ideas and feelings into one singular phrase. Right here, at the end of the record, from which the song acquired its name, the most important line.
“Killer parties almost killed me.”
This neat play on tautology is the nucleus of the whole song. The attitude, the heart, the confrontation. It is this inherent contradiction and conflict from which the drama and life is born. The big bang! This image is carefully placed in the most dynamic positions, at the conclusion of the record and, in part, the title - “Almost Killed Me” (which also satisfyingly compounds with the bands name for a further meaning.)
The inclusion of the word ‘almost’ is a key part of the expression. “Almost killed…” Through all the blood, sweat and tears, the narrator has made it through alive. Determination, luck, chance, skill, risk, fortune… Whatever it has taken, they have made it through. For the inclusion of this one word, a grand positivity is elevated within this testimony. This ethos is at the heart of much of Finn’s and The Hold Steady’s work. This concluding assessment is a gift of hope. It says if we can make it, you can make it too. If we can go into the heart of all of this confusion, and sometimes despair, and come out at the other end, so can you.
“If she says we partied then I'm pretty sure we partied.
I really don't remember.
I remember we departed from our bodies.
We woke up in Ybor city.”
This last verse acts as a desperate attempt to squeeze final facts from our confessor’s recollection. Here, the narrator further undermines any accountability, framing third party testimony as a possibility for what has occurred, but one that he cannot confirm as he cannot remember. He evidences the reason for this lack of memory: “We departed from our bodies”. A spectacular euphemism for intoxication through to oblivion/ black-out but also a phrase that speaks to the image of ascension. Where do these characters ascend to? “We woke up in Ybor city.” - The journey may have been unclear, but their arrived in the holy place is not. Maybe heaven, but certainly a place that is connected to something innate inside of themselves. This combination of religious and intoxicating imagery meets perfectly with Holly’s conflicts, as well as other characters.
As the line “Killer parties almost killed me” concludes the main body of lyrics, the guitars open up fully for the first time, wailing notes, finding feedback where they can. It is as if all those recalled experiences are flowing through the blood of the characters once more.
When the last verse repeats two more times, the guitars trickle muted quavers in the background, behaving like hairs standing up on the skin of arms in excitement. It is a momentary respite of reflection before further waves of history hit again, and the guitars run wild, channeling distorted frequencies as well as feedback and harmonics.
Killer Parties concludes with the final verse repeated once more, but this time with diminished orchestration, absent of drums, and the vocals just lightly vamped with a soft distorted guitar. This dissipation of energy further characterises a sense of arrival (sexual, sensual, holy) described in the lyrics previously; out from the torrents, and into the shelter, the warmth.
Though I have given a reasonable amount of reflection here, this is an unending mystery. This song means the world to me. I am so grateful to The Hold Steady for having written it, along with many other wonderful songs.
After the backbone sequence repeats twice, with gentle sorrowful guitar lines moving like shadows to the pulse, Craig Finn’s rough voice comes out the dark.
“If they ask about Charlemagne.”
The lyrics immediately put you inside a multitude of tensions.
“If…” Something is in the balance. Something may or may not happen.
“they…” Who are they?
The line concludes with emphasis on its subject - Charlemagne; one of the characters Finn weaves throughout THS songs.
This song holds extra import in terms of its commentary on this pimp/drug dealer, and indeed the wider world of song he occupies, as it offers concluding thoughts for the “Almost Killed Me” tome, and it is here we leave these stories for the meanwhile. What happens in this song is what will lead the echoes in the listener’s memory (until the next instalment, Separation Sunday.) It has been argued that this character was christened after the focus of the Steely Dan song ‘Kid Charlemagne’ (a tribute to an LSD chemist, Augustus Owsley Stanley III.)
Even isolated from the context of the album, the name Charlemagne conjures up so many images. It’s grandeur and gravitas cannot help but amplify expectations of this person’s importance. Who is this figure? As someone born with a culturally plain name, I am envious of his identifier, and instinctively speculate on my inferiority in relation to someone with a name so grand. It’s sonic relationship with the word charlatan also peaks curiosity. Prominent examples of the name go back to Holy Roman Emperors, all informing a history of power behind the graceful word of soft syllables.
“Be polite and say something vague.”
Decisive instruction and authority here; pay attention, this advice is important. Following the mystery in the opening line, these commands bring the frame of attention in closer on the conversation. Their mouth is near our ear, and the discussion is more intimate, immediate and vital. As a listener, you feel uniquely targeted to receive this information.
“Be polite…”
Politeness is commonly the result of a wish to show respect to someone, and is often intuitive. However, here its meaning is complicated. We are instructed that, in advance of any meeting where Charlemagne will be discussed, we must be ready with politeness as a pre-set disposition; this behaviour is to be cultivated for the purpose of illiciting a certain reaction/set of effects. The importance of our present feelings at such an occasion are relegated in importance. It is a firm request to be ready to show politeness, regardless. What was once a more honourable quality is subverted by an authority demanding it. I particularly relate to this enforced etiquette, growing up in England, with its wealth of contradictions in this area.
With this extra information, our initial intrigue is directed towards feelings of suspicion, and we imagination a narrative with more sinister complications.
“Say something vague…”
Our role is to obfuscate, blur the lines. What respect we assumed from being privileged to this information, we must now reevaluate. Charlemagne is the subject of our narrators affection, and we are being requested to serve wishes for him. This request starts to feel evermore like a desperate grab for love, a last attempt at plastering the holes in a cracking dam. It feels as futile as trying to help Christ run away from The Cross. Though the lyric is delivered lightly, its politics of promoting misunderstanding and fallacy adds a further sourness to this unfolding scene.
“Like ‘another lover lost to the restaurant raids.’”
Just before the chord progression falls into the V of the sequence (the climactic tension of this stanza) Finn throws away this mysterious, and deliciously rhythmic phrase to the wind. The illusion of this overly sentimental image only further highlights the sad reality of the harder life Charlemagne has lived. The false sanitised picture melts in the mind to the realities of living outside of state law, like a boiled sweet losing its form to reveal its a sour centre. There is deep compassion demonstrated in these opening sentiments, showering thoughts of protection and forgiveness onto a character who is far from finding peace.
“If they ask why we left in the first place.”
Say we were young and we were so in love.
I guess we just needed space.”
Building on the structure of the first verse, the nature of this discourse moves its focus from Charlemagne’s conflict, to the personal confessions of the narrator. Begging similarly, hoping to escape oppression themselves, our singer begins to bargain with possible explanations and excuses. The ‘I guess’ in the penultimate line removes a further level of accountability for his actions, and this in turn reveals a deep vulnerability through this confession. Even in hindsight, he cannot command any firm comprehension of what has happened to him and his companion. He starts to chart a journey full of excitement and spontaneity, but there is a sense that his mind is catching up on the reality of experiences, maybe as someone dealing with trauma or epiphany.
“We heard about this place… they called the United States.”
This verse concludes with a moment of bitter whimsy, and a righteous grab for identity. Setting up a reveal for what we imagine will be a lesser known rendezvous, a smaller town perhaps, the line concludes with a twist. The place was the USA, in all of its entirety; both a wide geographical scope, and also a psychological and metaphorical journey. For a long time I misheard the final phrase as, ‘there called the United States.’ The substitution lent the phrase additional patronisation in my mind.
“We found out Virginia really is for the lovers.
Philly is full of friendly friends that will love you like a brother.
Pensacola parties hard with poppers, pills and Pepsi.
Ybor city is tres speedy but they throw such killer parties.”
The third verse, and conclusion of this section, is the blossoming of the flower. From the guarded confessions, with moments of vulnerability breaking through the veil, these four lines revel in the beauty of lived experience, attributing values to visited locations. All of these positive discoveries testify to the benefit of engagement and adventure. At once what was not known, has now been “found out”. The last two verses chart events from the perspective of a couple - “we.” By emphasising the idea of unity, and shared experience, the story is given more warmth. It broadens the description of the bravery involved; not only has this confidant embarked on a journey of discovery to new places, they have also been open to sharing this life with another at the same time. The implied companion is most likely Holly, another main character in THS songs.
The alliteration throughout the sandwiched lines of this verse are is playful and ridiculous. This spirit alongside the rhythms in the language, all add to the illusion that the song is gaining pace.
“Tres speedy…”
This colloquial and euphemistic turn of phrase is joyously succinct in its colourisation of Ybor city. I have never visited this place, I might never manage to visit, but I have gone to this city in my mind. In this painted world, Ybor city is a spiritual place. A boozy Babylon. A slippery heaven. Finn is masterful at pulling character, plot and landscape together with economical language. This song is one of the greatest testaments to this (along with How A Resurrection Really Feels from Separation Sunday) as it ties all of those ideas and feelings into one singular phrase. Right here, at the end of the record, from which the song acquired its name, the most important line.
“Killer parties almost killed me.”
This neat play on tautology is the nucleus of the whole song. The attitude, the heart, the confrontation. It is this inherent contradiction and conflict from which the drama and life is born. The big bang! This image is carefully placed in the most dynamic positions, at the conclusion of the record and, in part, the title - “Almost Killed Me” (which also satisfyingly compounds with the bands name for a further meaning.)
The inclusion of the word ‘almost’ is a key part of the expression. “Almost killed…” Through all the blood, sweat and tears, the narrator has made it through alive. Determination, luck, chance, skill, risk, fortune… Whatever it has taken, they have made it through. For the inclusion of this one word, a grand positivity is elevated within this testimony. This ethos is at the heart of much of Finn’s and The Hold Steady’s work. This concluding assessment is a gift of hope. It says if we can make it, you can make it too. If we can go into the heart of all of this confusion, and sometimes despair, and come out at the other end, so can you.
“If she says we partied then I'm pretty sure we partied.
I really don't remember.
I remember we departed from our bodies.
We woke up in Ybor city.”
This last verse acts as a desperate attempt to squeeze final facts from our confessor’s recollection. Here, the narrator further undermines any accountability, framing third party testimony as a possibility for what has occurred, but one that he cannot confirm as he cannot remember. He evidences the reason for this lack of memory: “We departed from our bodies”. A spectacular euphemism for intoxication through to oblivion/ black-out but also a phrase that speaks to the image of ascension. Where do these characters ascend to? “We woke up in Ybor city.” - The journey may have been unclear, but their arrived in the holy place is not. Maybe heaven, but certainly a place that is connected to something innate inside of themselves. This combination of religious and intoxicating imagery meets perfectly with Holly’s conflicts, as well as other characters.
As the line “Killer parties almost killed me” concludes the main body of lyrics, the guitars open up fully for the first time, wailing notes, finding feedback where they can. It is as if all those recalled experiences are flowing through the blood of the characters once more.
When the last verse repeats two more times, the guitars trickle muted quavers in the background, behaving like hairs standing up on the skin of arms in excitement. It is a momentary respite of reflection before further waves of history hit again, and the guitars run wild, channeling distorted frequencies as well as feedback and harmonics.
Killer Parties concludes with the final verse repeated once more, but this time with diminished orchestration, absent of drums, and the vocals just lightly vamped with a soft distorted guitar. This dissipation of energy further characterises a sense of arrival (sexual, sensual, holy) described in the lyrics previously; out from the torrents, and into the shelter, the warmth.
Though I have given a reasonable amount of reflection here, this is an unending mystery. This song means the world to me. I am so grateful to The Hold Steady for having written it, along with many other wonderful songs.
CH, 11th May 2017.
