Just so you know — if you’ve been holding your breath in anticipation — there are several nearly-finished posts here just requiring a few final touches before they can be launched into the expectant world. They all just need that one killer detail that takes them over the line into literary immortality. In the meantime, here’s another meditation on a random song I like.

Now, I’m not claiming this song is a work of genius or anything like that. From spending a little time on the internets interacting with music tragics, I know just how cutthroat and competitive they can be. You can’t admit to liking anything poppy; you must subscribe to arcane orthodoxies about what should be considered ‘good’; and there’s always someone with a bigger collection of more obscure artists who are more authentic. In fact, the more obscure, the more authentic.

Anyway, this is by a band I like because they’re versatile and funny and do a great live show. Don’t let the fact that they’re Canadian put you off — after all, we can thank Canadia for Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, The Band, and Leonard Cohen. And Bryan Adams, Loverboy, Rush, Nickelback and Alanis Morissette, if you must.

Anyway, Barenaked Ladies. They’re probably known mainly for the theme song of ‘The Big Bang Theory‘, but let’s not condemn them out of hand. They were pretty niche until then — and at least that number will give them financial security. The song I like today is not well-known, not a top track or A-side or whatever. And it’s written by the bass player, which might not seem much of a recommendation — if you’ve never seen Jim Creeggan rocking out with a stand-up four-stringer.

‘Peterborough and the Kawarthas’ is (I think) about a father leaving his son. It could be that he’s a divorced dad, or a musician on the road. But what makes it work so well is the father’s longing and loneliness which pervades the whole piece — and, through the little details he reveals, his little son’s loneliness too.

I left you in the rain
Peterborough and the Kawarthas
Your reflection in the pane
Peterborough and the Kawarthas

What’s that Kawarthas stuff? Turns out it’s the region of Canadia where the boy lives, as spoken by a weather reporter on the radio. Whenever the father hears the weather report, it invokes a vision of the son, who he imagines watching him through the window, leaving. And the whole opening scene is set in the rain, initiating the weather theme for the whole lyric.

Apples, pears, prunes, and plums
His favourite food, I told his mum
Wait for him at the end of the slide
When he climbs the stairs, stay by his side

Tender advice from an anxious Dad — the things he’d do if he were still there; followed by a refrain that returns to the weather.

I heard you got some rain
Peterborough and the Kawarthas
Looks like we’re in for the same
Peterborough and the Kawarthas

It’s banal on the surface, but I say that’s a cover for his deeper emotions — isn’t that what talking about the weather often does? And then the father’s departing wish to the mother or carer:

I’m going early, won’t wave good-bye
Tell him I love him; look him in the eye
I’ve learned how to mourn; I’ve learned how to miss
Let me disappear with this kiss.

He has become practised at leaving and wants to minimise the pain by keeping it low-key. And he avoids the wrench of saying goodbye to his son in person, passing on his love through an intermediary.

And so to the bridge, over which a radio weatherman intones the forecast. It’s one of those things a band does in the studio which make you wonder how they’d reproduce it live, but hey, it works in this format. We’re reminded of how the weather links father to son while they’re apart — as does the final verse.

Bird, book, and basketball
Squirrel, dog, and learning how to crawl
I found my heart when he came
Let my leaving leave like rain

The toddler’s childish concerns are listed in the first two lines — simple words for simple things. And then the father’s statement that having his child has taught him how to love — which is why he’d like his departure to be unspectacular, like rain drying up.

I watched you from the train
Peterborough and the Kawarthas
When I come back I’ll see you again
Peterborough and the Kawarthas

In the meantime, he’ll tune into the weather report every day to reconnect with his son.

I’ll listen for you every morning
I’ll listen for you every morning
I’ll listen for you every morning
I’ll listen for you every morning

All this over quite a simple, repetitive riff and an understated shuffly beat using (what sounds like) brushes on the snare.

Literary boffins will tell you that this is a clear example of a technique called the Pathetic Fallacy, in which conditions in the physical world, such as the weather, reflect the inner state of mind of the text’s subject. It’s a strange phrase; it sounds very negative, as if whoever coined it approved of neither mood nor technique. Even so, it’s an often-used and very effective trope which works really well in this little song.

I wanted to put this out on Fathers’ Day here in Aus which was all the way back at the beginning of September. Just a thought for all the fathers and sons who are perforce apart. I failed in that respect, but did my best — I reckon my old dad would have forgiven me.