Darling, I

       I think that nearly every song on Up invokes some sort of religious imagery within its lyrics. Regardless of your personal religious beliefs, I think it is quite difficult to think very deeply about any subject and not encounter God, or the question of God, at some level. The Promised Land is the area of land that, in the Bible, God promises to the people of Abraham that is “good and spacious land…full of milk and honey.” The book of Exodus details the Israelites' search for the Promised Land, led by God, who takes them on a long and indirect path full of obstacles to their willpower and patience.

 

        Remember the old adage, “you are the average of the five people you hang around with the most”? It seems to me that the inverse is also true: sometimes, you decide who you love based on the perceived fact that they possess qualities that you also wish to possess. I believe this tune to be an exploration of that idea. Duetting with Leah Gerrietts, each line makes a self-reflecting observation and lobs a question or an accusation at whoever is on the receiving end of all of this. Sometimes, they seem to be dueling ideas, or at least ideas that work in concert with each other (“I could be a local / You could be the foreign sky”). But fundamentally, I believe I was trying to come to terms with why I care for the people that I do. 

 

       One of the final lines of the song, written above, I think is the central line. Maybe even the central line of the entire record. I think it’s a good one, anyway. It could be interpreted this way: I think you’re a mirror, because I believe that you represent what I wish I was. I think I’m the palm of your hand, because I think that I am something insignificant or ordinary to you. I think I’m a liar, because maybe some of the things I already said about you aren’t even true, I just wish that they were. I think you’re the promised land, because you test my patience and my strength. Or maybe, you prefer: I think you’re a mirror because I treat you like another version of me. I think I’m the palm of your hand, because I want to be something you perpetually hold very close. I think I’m a liar, because I am not living up to the standard I should. I think you’re the promised land, because I value you to the degree that the wandering Israelites in the desert value the ultimate promise sent from God himself. Or maybe you don’t like either of those. It’s up to you, whether you think the Promised Land is invoked here in a sort of cynical, almost heretical sort of fashion, or it is the appropriate way to describe a love, or none of the above. For me, the version with which I resonate changes by the day. But no matter the day, my opinion does not change: a real love certainly invokes something Higher. 

 

Love,

NM