“Indiana Wants Me”
Artist: R. Dean Taylor
Writer: R. Dean Taylor
When the crit-illuminati mock, is it because they don’t understand….or because they do?
From March 21, 2006:
Where have all the tear-jerking story songs gone? Unless “It’s hard out here for a pimp” qualifies, I think the genre’s mostly dead. Good riddance. I’m not sure where they began – you could trace them back to 50s tunes about drag races and dead girlfriends, or back to blues / jazz tunes with simple story lines like “Frankie and Johnny” [Cliff Notes versions: she shot him, inasmuch as he had done, and was doing, and presumably would continue to do, her wrong.] But the late 60s and early 70s had a spate of them, and for some reason “Indiana Wants Me” had a special place in our junior-high hearts – it ended with sirens and a policeman calling “This is the police. You are surrounded. Give yourself up. ” Poor guy! And what had he done wrong, really? Well, he killed a guy – but the lug had it coming, since “No one had the right to say the things he said.” What? That pi was actually a finite number? White shoes could be worn in March? “Catsup” was the preferred spelling, not “Ketchup”? Whatever it was, shooting seemed a rather drastic response. Then again, I never understood why Big Bad John got into a fight over a Caging Queen. Lyrics were a boundless source of mystery.
Come to think of it, “Indiana Wants Me” probably doesn’t take place in Indiana at all, since the singer is a fugitive. Wonder why he chose that state. “Minnesota Wants Me” sounds like a tourist promotion; “Iowa wants me” sounds like you’re being invited to an elderly aunt’s house for tea. “North Dakota wants me” is rather obvious, given the population decline. “Indiana” has that flat Charlie-Starkweather Midwestern vibe, I guess. [Yes, yes, I know, he was a Nebraskan. And if ever there is a word that describes the feeling of the wind in the Midwest in late December, it’s that: Nebraskan Starkweather. On the other hand, put a Roman numeral after it, and it sounds all WASPy and country-clubbed: Nebraskan Starkweather III]
(James Lileks, Blog Post from March 21, 2006)
Well, that’s one way of putting it.
Here’s another way.
Story songs have all but disappeared because “story” needs communal norms (what used to be called Civilization) to communicate. Go to your local bookstore (if you have one–they needed Civilization too), pick up any literary magazine (yes, they still have them) and read any two paragraphs of any entry published within. I can’t say what all you might find. What you won’t find is anything resembling a story.
“Indiana Wants Me” is one of the great story songs–great in part because of its refusal to give any of those unnecessary details Lileks pretends to miss. It assumes you can fill in the blanks.
A man kills another man because that man insulted his wife. We know they’re married because no mere hanger-on would kill any man for insulting any woman.
The man knows what the consequences of his decision are.
It means he’ll die in a standoff with the police.
That’s the story.
Bruce Springsteen (following fellow Great Artists like Woody Guthrie, Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard) has spent his entire career chasing that story–and not just the whole story, but that perfect phrase about a man who needed dying.
And, just like all the others, including those who were dust before “Indiana Wants Me” existed, he’ll die trying to catch up, trying to give it a new dimension.
Like all the others, he’ll fail.
The world has moved on.
Stories are no more. No common assumptions (about who “needs” dying, or anything else), no stories.
It’s possible R. Dean Taylor–a white Motown staffer (responsible for, among others “Love Child” for the Supremes and “All I Need” for the Temptations) who wrote “Indiana Wants Me” as a response to seeing Bonnie and Clyde and eventually recorded its superb country lyric as a self-produced Tommy James soundalike for Motown’s Rare Earth subsidiary and watched it become that label’s biggest international hit–didn’t know his story songs were a mere generation from going out of style.
It’s also possible he did.
1970 was almost the exact turning point from a world where “if a man ever needed dying he did, no one had the right to say what he said….about you” (that pause is everything, until that pause and the two words that follow, the killer and the man he leaves dead might be any sort, after that pause, and those two words, they are fixed in a moral universe with unalterable rules) went from a statement understood by all (even those who mocked or disagreed or professed ignorance of honor codes or horror at their application) to a world where such statements, and the sentiments behind them, are incomprehensible.
Lileks is a self-styled “conservative.” Re-reading his piece last week, I was reminded of the flurry of bloggers who gained traction in the wake of Donald Trump’s candidacy and soon became labeled “Alt-Right.”
They have a lot of fun mocking the Lileks-style mockers and one point they’ve made ad nauseum (a point in keeping with my own early-and-often categorization of Liberals-Who-Do-Not-Liberate and Conservatives-Who-Do-Not-Conserve): “Conservatives” have conserved nothing.
The difference between the Alt-Righters and me, regarding the collapse, over the last half-century, of the millennia-old traditions that under-gird Liberal Democracy–and, with it, all the traditions that forbade us from doing whatever we liked, from eating the wrong foods to mowing down rooms full of school kids, “just because”–is two-fold.
One is, they think Liberal Democracy has failed for mechanical reasons–that nature has reasserted itself over men’s better angels, rather than men making unwise choices of conscience. Like Reactionaries of all stripes, Left and Right, they believe barbarism, and its attendant cycle of chaos and tyranny, are inevitable and we best get on with the supreme duty of the cycle’s proper management.
Two is: They’re happy about it–about a world where everything is called into question.
Like, for instance…why Indiana?
Because it sings, moron. Your version of “conservativism” is deader than the traditions of story, song and Civilization your devotion to nihilism was designed to destroy.