“The lines of my earth, so brittle, unfertile, and ready to die…I need a drink, but the well has gone dry.” (Sixpence None the Richer)
With Husband’s permission, I have hijacked the Learn These Songs, Matt! blog to share with Koopman, Jr. my all-time favorite song. This blog – my offering to it, anyway – was always going to be about a song with which I felt a deep-seated emotional connection. But, as it turns out (and this shouldn’t come as a surprise at all), there are no less than five thousand songs that fit that description.
And so, I narrowed the field to a precious few favorites among which were Jonatha Brooke’s “Because I Told You So” and “Ten Cent Wings,” Jennifer Knapp’s “Fall Down” and “You Answer Me,” and pretty much the entire catalog belonging to the phenomenal and yet underrated Sixpence None the Richer.
But I didn’t want to take the time to explain why I chose either of Jonatha’s songs for Matt, and I sang one of Jennifer’s with her on that tour I joined her on last Spring. So, I return to my first and forever Favorite Song Ever.
Now, understand me here: I have a hundred thousand favorite songs on any given day. (I am also, just for the record, a perpetual exaggerator. So when I say “a hundred thousand,” a more accurate number would be closer to ten…or maybe even fifty. Anyway, I digress…) But this song has been my anthem since first I heard it at 15 years old. I spent hours listening to it on repeat. And that’s no exaggeration. I studied to it. I slept to it. I cried to it. I ran to it. I wrote a term paper listening to this one song, with maybe a couple others thrown in.
Because it speaks my heart. While my beloved Husband is deeply and profoundly moved by songs of pure musical genius, I have always been drawn to and moved by songs of lyrical genius. Songs that say what I, a self-proclaimed wanna-be wordsmith, long to say so often but can’t find the phrasing for. And this song was perhaps the first to not only grab me, hold me, comfort me, and move me…it threw me into another dimension of spiritual and emotional awakening. Yeah. It was that powerful.
But even my lyrical ears can’t be drawn to a song without the musical prowess to carry it. Whatever the song, whether it’s a driving rock tune or a simple acoustic ballad, the forms must marry.
And so I chose “The Lines of My Earth” by Sixpence None the Richer, which is, as far as I’m concerned, the Perfect Song. It’s ethereal and breathy, but grounded in fierce reality.
Before I go any further, the lyrics:
//
The lines of my earth
So brittle, unfertile, and ready to die
I need a drink, but the well has gone dry
And we in the habit of
Saying the same things all over again
For the money we shall make…
(chorus)
This is the last song that I write
Till You tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it
This is the last song
Till You tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it
Anymore
It should be our time
This fertile youth’s black soil is ready for rain
The harvest is nigh, but the well has gone dry
And they in the habit of
Saying the same things all over again
About the money we shall make
(chorus)
//
There’s something truly weighty about this song, lyrically. The metaphorical comparison of a songwriter’s world of planting ideas for the nourishment and maturity of the human spirit to a dry well or unfertile soil is both beautiful and tragic, and one I understand all too well. The constant pressure to “write a hit” when what’s brimming at the surface and growing from the soil is something much more profound than commercial listeners might ever appreciate often leaves us wanting, needy, and bone dry of any true creativity or inspiration. Often, we find ourselves writing song after song of meaningless drivel, lost to our real person. Other times, we lose it altogether. The pressure to write something “accessible” seems juvenile, but without it we can’t pay bills. It’s a painful reality.
But songwriter’s aren’t alone. I think every person who’s ever pursued a dream or passion in an unforgiving industry (and what industry isn’t unforgiving?) has found himself in a position of wondering when the fire died, when it all became about the next paycheck instead of a pure conscience and excellent product.
And so each of us, at some point, longs to lay down the pen and shelve the paper, swearing not to pick it up again until we’re specifically told by Someone greater that it’s time.
I know I’ve been there a hundred times. Sometimes, it’s as simple as writing a song for no one but me to enjoy. Sometimes, it’s as complex as refusing, despite what every instinct screams, to let it lie a while longer. And wait…just wait, and wait, and wait for true inspiration.
Matt, I give you this song both as a warning of dangers ahead and as an escape route. You’re only in 8th grade, but the years ahead – especially as you enter college and then the workforce, hopefully pursuing your dreams – you will be tried and tested. Your passion will be challenged by the dollar. You will probably be forced at some point to choose between them.
And when that happens, I hope and pray you’ll remember this song and know that it’s good and right to put it away if you’re doing it for any reason other than Love and calling. I hope you’ll remember there are seasons of planting, and seasons of waiting for seeds to take, and seasons of reaping what you’ve sown.
And in the seasons of waiting when the road is long…when others are pressuring you for something you simply don’t have to give….when the well seems dry and the soil unfertile, I hope you’ll wait with comfort, patience, gratitude, and confidence that He who began this good work in and through you will be faithful to complete it.