okay not to out myself as a Ron Pope listener but he has this line in his song ‘Minneapolis Cold’ that says: “The winter we met, you’d just dropped out of school / Heart like a mustang, ran out of fuel”. for some reason, this simile devastates me. heart like a mustang, ran out of fuel. something about bright, new, shiny things already too empty to run right. something about the potential of youth and the tragedy of living. something about the desire to leave, but never being able to escape. something something Tracy Chapman you’ve got a fast car
obsessed with all of that, yes please tell me more
oh babycakes, I’ve got you. If anyone wants a song-by-song breakdown of any of these themes, hit me up.
tttyg - anger
The anger of teen rebellion. The anger of losing parts of your childhood. The anger of realising it was already gone. The kind of anger that makes you want to throw yourself into a crowd. The kind that makes you want to put pen to paper and rip it all apart. The anger that comes with feeling unheard.
futct - pain
The pain of your first breakup. The pain of your first breakdown. Pain as a motivator. The pain that comes from moving across the country. The pain of leaving things behind. The pain of betrayal. Pain as performance. Making art out of pain, because what else is there to do with it? Pain that has to be beautiful, because otherwise what’s the point?
ioh - love, fame
Love is something that you give to the people who got you this far. Love is something foreign. Love is something that you buy. Love is something that you can never have. Fame and love are the same thing: it’s an exchange. Fame and love can never be the same thing, because it’s not real. Maybe love isn’t real. Worse, maybe it’s real – but maybe this is the best you’ll ever get.
folie - endings
Tragic endings. Heroic endings, with a blaze of glory. Endings that arrived, and blindsided you entirely. Endings you watched crawl towards you for years; the kind you saw coming from a mile away. Endings like a season finale. Endings like an encore. Endings like a funeral. Endings you don’t think you’ll ever recover from. Endings that aren’t really the end.
srar - hope
Hope as rebirth. Hope as redemption. The absence of hope: desolation. The hope that things can be rebuilt. The hope that, somewhere out there, people are still listening. Hope that the things you make matter. How a lack of hope can break you. The hope for new beginnings. The hope that there’s something still left to save – hope that it can be saved. The hope that the people you love have been missing you to death. The hope that, no matter what, there will always be people who want you to come home. Even if it’s the long way round. Even if you have to start at the end.
abap - nostalgia
The nostalgia of your favourite record. The way your childhood bedroom feels. The nostalgia of an old photo album, and the way the faded pictures look. The way that summer felt as a child. The ugly kind of nostalgia, the kind that makes you replay memories. Over and over again. No matter how much it hurts. When nostalgia helps you make something new. Something better. When everything old is new again.
mania - the mind
The mind as something that controls you. As something that can cause you pain. That can cause others pain. Overstimulation. The highs and the lows. The firing of synapses. The production of chemicals: too much, not enough. Intrusive thoughts. The mind as something you bargain with in order to live. The mind as something capable of magic.
is this too late I'd be very curious to hear your thoughts about themes on ioh
oh so you got me thinking!
Pete has said before that this album feels like nighttime. I agree. It feels like getting home from a party at 2am, still kind of tipsy and drifting.
I think it’s very easy to say that Infinity On High is about fame, and then just leave it there. You wouldn’t be wrong; but we’ve got more ground to cover.
Ever since futct, fob has had a bone to pick with the idea of fame (e.g. the album literally starts with the sound of ambient camera shutters). From Under The Cork Tree, Infinity On High, and Folie à Deux have always felt almost like a trilogy to me, in that regard. While ‘Cork Tree’ feels like the band’s introduction to the machinations of fame, and Folie is a definite exploration of the aftermath... Infinity On High is almost euphorically self-aware. Like it knows where it’s headed, but it just can’t stop. IOH is about the best part of fame: the midpoint. It’s about how, if you’re not careful, you’ll get caught in the dream and the dazzle of it. The high, if you will.
Despite that, it really is an album that decries everything about the industry machine. It’s a record that spends a lot of time screaming about how nothing is real, everyone is fake, and nothing can be trusted. The first three songs of the album (Thriller, The Take Over, and Arms Race) all have that tongue-in-cheek take on the band’s success: “I can take your problems away with a nod and a wave” / “Don’t pretend you’ll ever forget about me” / “As long as the room keeps singing / That’s just the business I’m in”.
However, the next three songs are interspersed with honest and incredibly visceral moments of sincerity (I’m like a Lawyer, Hum Hallelujah, Golden). Within the scope of the rest of the album, these songs feel like a moment of clarity. Like being lucid, before you’re swept back up in the headrush of being a fucking rockstar. The horror of being the next big thing.
For a while, I thought there might have been something significant about these trios of songs, but neither the original record — nor the deluxe album —are divisible by three. So, bummer. No cool lore there. There are, however, 14 songs on the original album. There’s nothing super significant about that except for the fact that it’s a very popular number within the bible: whether its 14 rains, 14 lambs, 14 plagues, 14 rams, 14 cubits, or 14 wives. There’s 24 mentions of the number within the bible. The lamb thing is fun, though. Hey Franklin!
But that’s my segue: religion in ioh. As we know, Pete loves a little bit of Catholic guilt. Uhhh it’s definitely there. It’s been talked about before. Lots of people have discussed it. But I would say that death, as a theme, is even more present than religion.
Pete, in particular, has always written about fame and death as though intertwined, like they can’t be explored separately. Like they’re consequences of each other, no matter which comes first. Which I suppose is interesting in the context of this album, named Infinity On High, after a passage from Vincent Van Gogh’s letters. Van Gogh’s story is so impactful because his artwork didn’t garner success until after he died. In fact, his death was the thing that skyrocketed his fame. It wouldn’t surprise me if this reference to Van Gogh is another indirect critique of the fickle nature of fame.
At the end of the day, I think the most prominent — yet somehow under-addressed — theme in ioh is love. The opening track, ‘Thriller’, is almost explicitly a love letter to the fans. Love is mentioned numerous times throughout the lyrics of ioh:
“Love songs for the genuinely cunning” / “I love a tree I used to lay beneath” / “Better off as lovers” / “This is a love song in my own way” / “I’ve loved everything about you that hurts” / “I know I’m supposed to love you” / “All the boys who the dance floor didn’t love” / “I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light” / “And all the lovers with no time for me” / “Collecting page six lovers” / “Oh, put love on hold” /
Within Infinity On High, love is something that you give to the people who got you this far. Love is presented as something foreign. Love is something that you buy. Love is something that you can never have. Maybe that’s why it’s widely regarded as fob’s most beloved album, because that’s what it’s about, at the end of the day.
Let’s gooooo! I’ll give you a teaser, and the rest goes under the cut <3
1. “I'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake / The hand behind this pen relives a failure everyday”
It’s such a quintessential Wentz line, and the vibe is so specific to the album, as well. It’s a little homoerotic, it’s a little self-loathing, it’s a little bit angsty. It’s got everything. What more do you want?
2. “Take our tears, put 'em on ice / ‘Cause I swear, I'd burn this city down to show you the light”
This has always been one of my favourite lyrics. Growing up, I was a small town kid. If you either are — or were previously — a small town kid, you know exactly what I mean when I say that they’re the sort of places that you either leave as a teenager, or you stay there forever. There’s just no in-between. I always knew that I was leaving. So, I’ve always loved this lyric because I was a country kid with an incredibly close group of friends. And I knew that one day I was going to leave, and they weren’t going to come with me. It was kind of an inevitable, bittersweet little tragedy, so we weren’t gonna cry about it (“take our tears, put 'em on ice”). But I would have done anything for those assholes. It was good.
3. “The best part of, ‘Believe’ is the lie / I hope you sing along, and you steal a line”
Again, I’ve always loved this wordplay. And I’m a skeptical bastard, so I like the sentiment, too. “I hope you sing along, and you steal a line” is such a good lyric in a song that’s mainly about hope and cynicism and growing up just to realise you might be a little fucked. Because it’s so ‘I hope you take this, I hope it stays with you and you keep it forever — for better or worse’. And the fact that it’s followed with “I need to keep you like this in my mind”, because it’s a give and take: it’s very ‘you hold on to these words, and I’ll hold onto the way you look tonight’. That’s pretty neat.
4. “They call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone / But for what we've become, we just feel more alone”
This is for all my intimidating homies out there! It’s just such a fun lyric. There is something isolating about the kind of person that you become in order to protect yourself from the world. As someone who has, indeed, been addressed as a ‘vicious bitch’ I get to own this one.
5. “And the poets are just kids who didn’t make it / And never had ‘it’ at all”
Every time that Pete calls himself a poet, my heart gets all gooey. I’ve been involved in the arts industry, both directly and indirectly, for a long time — and there really is this mentality that some people will just never be worthwhile creative investments because they don’t have ‘it’. It’s always a bummer to watch talented kids run themselves into the ground trying to impress people who aren’t invested in them. Also, I’m a writer and a sad bitch; so me too, Pete.
6. “I’m sleeping on your folk’s porch again, dreaming”
This is just such a warm, summer lyric for me. I’ve been that kid, passed out on a friend’s verandah/balcony, lying on the planks and sharing a shitty blanket with someone. This line specifically reminds me of being 16 and sharing a pillow with the girl I had a crush on, outside, at her parent’s place.
7. “It’s true romance is dead / I shot it in the chest then in the head”
It’s badass. It’s a game-changer. It lives in my head rent-free. Should have made it to the album. It fucks.
8. “I’m mailing letters to addresses in a ghost town”
This is just beautifully tragic imagery. It’s futile, and it’s empty. It’s twisted nostalgia and compulsive sentimentality. It’s about not being able to let things go. And you know me, folks; I’m always a slut for a ghost motif.
9. “Your secret’s out and the best part is / It isn’t even a good one”
Something about Patrick’s delivery in combination with this line? It’s just show-stopping, baby. For me, this has always felt like a particularly brutal line; something about guarding yourself against people’s judgement, and then finding out that no one even cares enough about you to throw the first stone. It’s a very ‘Pete’ fear — like, sure, they might hate me but at least they’re looking. And as long as you’re seen, you exist.
10. “To the ‘love’, I left my conscience pressed / Through the keyholes I watched you dress / Kiss and tell / Loose lips sink ships”
I love how this line flows and I love the difference between this bridge and the original chorus lyrics (“between the pages of the bible in the drawer”, etc.). Again, this song has always felt kind of ambiguously queer to me. The lines about leaving your ‘conscience’ behind, between the pages of a motel bible, reads very true to the experience of your first gay hookup. Very ‘fuck what the church has said, it’s never done a thing for me anyway’. So the difference between that and this final change — suggesting that, despite everything, the meeting still has to be kept a secret — is super compelling to me.
Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes – Lyric Analysis
It’s been a bit since I put one of these together. As always, disclaimer: this is just my interpretation of words on a page. If Pete Wentz has an issue with it, he can fistfight me on his own time. Let’s get into it!
In my analysis of From Now On We Are Enemies, I covered Pete’s extensive history as a film and television buff. This guy is a certified pop-culture geek. Consequently, his lyrics are full of references to old shows and movies. I like to cover Pete’s most obvious and concrete lyric influences before diving further into my own speculation. Let’s go.
The song’s title — Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes — is a reference to the lodge and bowling team that Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble belonged to on the ‘60s cartoon TV show The Flintstones. Yes, I’m discussing a cartoon; please, keep up. Every possible interpretation of this song name is vaguely hilarious. Just let me take this too seriously.
Most of this is pulled directly from the Flintstone’s wiki page:
The Loyal Order of Water Buffaloes (or simply the Water Buffaloes) is a fictional and very exclusive men-only fraternal organization operating within Bedrock with a long and dedicated history in the franchise of The Flintstones. It serves as Fred and Barney's main club and hangout.
In accordance with Water Buffalo rules, it is forbidden to share club secrets with outsiders, and severe reprimands can be handed out to members who break the rules or engage in "conduct unbecoming of a Water Buffalo", such as acting unmanly or acting disgracefully or idiotically in public.
It’s certainly an unusual choice of title. The subtle altering of the club’s name from ‘loyal’ to ‘disloyal’ also seems particularly interesting.
Perhaps, the song’s name was pre-empting a negative reaction from fans who would claim that the band were selling out, or that they had changed their sound — that they were being ‘disloyal’ to their own music. However, the Order’s existence as a men-only organisation with a strict code of masculinity brings to mind Pete’s earlier years in the hardcore scene. Pete has often cited that his departure from the scene was a consequence of the sexism and homophobia that was running rampant at hardcore shows. Pete’s departure from his hardcore roots to pursue a more commercial, pop-punk sound could, potentially, be considered as an act of disloyalty.
Alternatively, the change could hint at the betrayal of a close male friend. Three years later, could this be a reference to Pete’s fallout with “Hey Chris” of Grenade Jumper fame? I can’t even begin to unpack the subtext and timeline on this one, so check out @souryogurt64‘s essay “Stay Gold, Dude, Stay Gold” for more on that.
Even so, the addition of a prefix could also be a vague allusion to the changing dynamics within the band. As has been frequently discussed, the Folie era was full of stress and high tensions. The band was also trying to push themselves, and each other, creatively. Because of this, Pete and Patrick spent a lot of time at each other’s throats. Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes was even composed while Patrick was in the middle of an argument with his friend and lyricist. The disagreement was outlined in a Kerang interview (issue #1554):
“As a ‘fuck you’, I took a bunch of lyrics, read them and just angrily wrote two songs off the top of my head, just like, ‘Duh-duh-duh-duhduhduh... there!’ And ‘Duh-duh-duh-duhduhduh... there!’” recalls Patrick. “I said, ‘Now I wrote these two songs, and I didn’t fucking care about ‘em! I didn’t put any hope or love into these songs at all! And if you appreciate ‘em, then fuck you!” he laughs. The songs in question were Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes and I Don’t Care.
It’s an incredibly appropriate sentiment for the tone of the song. Patrick’s assertion that he “didn’t put any hope or love into these songs at all”, directly parallels the chorus’ opener: “So boycott love”.
Within the narrative of The Flintstones, the Water Buffaloes functioned as the main social hangout of the primary male characters — a club that they’ve been part of ever since they were children. Maybe this alludes to Fall Out Boy’s long-time presence in the band members’ lives. After all, Patrick and Joe were only sixteen when they started playing music together.
The title of this track is almost deceptively complicated. That’s Pete Wentz for you. Now, finally: lyrics.
The lyrics of this song are quite manic and almost intentionally disorientating. The song makes the connection between the narrator’s deteriorating mental state and the act of falling in love, likening love to a harmful drug or chemical compound (“Detox just to retox”). There’s a paragraph of Pete’s novel, Gray, that directly parallels this sentiment. The intensity of the song increases as it continues, introducing a heavier, rock anthem sound, paralleling the presence of a heightened emotional state fuelled by substances and adrenaline.
Many of Pete’s lyrics tend to reflect each other, allowing for us to draw parallels between Fall Out Boy songs both old and new (e.g., “This is side one, flip me over / I know I’m not your favourite record”, vs. “And I’d spin for you / Like your favourite records used to”). In this case, “I'm coming apart at the seams”, feels somewhat adjacent to Mania’s “And when your stitch comes loose”. Pete often writes about the feeling of unravelling as a metaphor for the rapid deterioration of a person’s mental state.
“Pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams”. Pete has described this line as: “that moment when you realize you just wish you were someone else…”. Within Folie itself, this line reads as almost the inverse to Headfirst Slide’s “I don't just want to be a footnote in someone else's happiness” — almost as though the lines are coming from two separate people. We know that Pete occasionally writes from the perspective of his other bandmates (see: What a Catch, Donnie), and these feel like very Pete vs Patrick sentiments. Pete has also spoken about this in an interview with Rolling Stone in 2015:
“I was high on being Pete Wentz… Now I understand how I was overshadowing the band, especially Patrick. He’s probably one of the best melody writers around. In any band that would have been talked about constantly, but I was just overshadowing it. I knew it, but I didn’t know how to stop it. It was a snowball that had just gotten so big.”
Patrick’s dream was always to be an accomplished musician, and in some way, Pete saw himself as intruding on what rightfully belonged to Patrick and the other guys.
The song begins to establish a theme of medication/hospitalisation that will become common throughout the rest of Folie (“Doc, there's a hole where something was”). This line also implies the absence of a heart, given the chorus’ refrain about avoiding love at all costs. The narrator voices this absence as merely an observation, rather than a point of concern. In Pete’s own words: “I am forever having doctors analyse me for problems I do not have”.
(Also, see: “I am God's gift, but why would he bless me with / Such wit without a conscience equipped”.)
“Butterfly bandage / But don't worry”. Pete has mentioned that this was referring to a specific injury, but he can’t remember what it was. For me, it’s always brought to mind the story of how Joe’s spinning move, “Trohmania”, got its name. The name was derived after Joe hit Pete in the face while spinning; Pete needed stitches. Yeah, okay. He got his face busted open, but he was having fun. Probably.
“Put him in the back of a squad car / Restrain that man / He needs his head put through a CAT scan”. Pete has specified that these lyrics relate to a specific event. “This is definitely based on something that happened. the police car was alright, the mri however was all bad :( no fun”, he wrote. Once again, this continues to mirror the song’s primary theme of mental and emotional deterioration. Also, Pete </3
“Hey editor, I'm undeniable / Hey doctor, I'm certifiable”. This line suggests the presence of some internal contradiction. The narrator understands himself, simultaneously, to be both worthy of praise/unable to be ignored, but also ‘crazy’. Perhaps, the narrator sees this to be his primary appeal: his unstable nature makes him more entertaining and marketable, more consumable. Alternatively, this could be making reference to the editor of a gossip rag or similar tabloid magazine. Perhaps, this is Pete suggesting that he makes for perfect press precisely because he is “certifiable”.
Pete could also be marketing his band and their individual talents, believing them to be “undeniable”. How could the skills of his best friends be doubted for a second? All the while, he’s the “certifiable” weak link. This reading continues to make sense, as we transition into the next line: “I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine”.
This clearly reads as Pete questioning his place in the band, which he has said was accurate at the time. In the same Rolling Stone interview mentioned above, the bassist added:
“I withdrew from things,” says Wentz. “The dynamic of the band had changed. Everyone’s personalities had changed from when we started the band… I didn’t respect people’s time. I would show up to stuff whenever I felt like it. I was a selfish guy that ended up in a position I didn’t even understand.”
While this statement is likely complicated by the substance issues that Pete was experiencing at the time, Pete didn’t feel as though he was a functioning member of Fall Out Boy. This statement is also reminiscent of a chapter of Pete’s novel, where the narrator describes being so out of touch with reality that he unknowingly misses an entire week of studio time.
This leads us to the iconic pre-chorus lines: “What a match / I'm half doomed and you're semi-sweet”. Pete has famously specified that this line is about “anybody you feel that close to, to me it was sometimes a girl but honestly sometimes it was Patrick”. The words “What a match” draw a rhyming resemblance to the similar “What a catch” refrain from the lyrics of What a Catch, Donnie — a song from the same album that is also understood to be about the band’s lead singer. Many would consider the description of Patrick as “semi-sweet” to be simultaneously entertaining and accurate; the singer is known for both his compassionate and genuine nature, as well as his somewhat spitfire temper.
The Rolling Stone interview elaborates on Pete’s feelings about the band’s changing dynamics — and, in particular, his changing relationship with Patrick as the hiatus approached:
“Patrick didn’t used to be outgoing at all, and then he grew into himself. I don’t know that I gave him room to change… Patrick was still my best friend. I was in his wedding. At the same time, I felt like he needed to get some of that Pete Wentz stink off of him.”
Pete’s belief that he is “half-doomed” relates heavily to the song’s prior sentiment that there is something fundamentally wrong with the song’s narrator. This, again, aligns with the idea that the narrator’s worst traits are somewhat redeemed by — either their own usefulness — or by the talents of those around him.
The chorus line “And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life” obviously suggests that the author is displeased with the choices that they’ve made so far. That, given their current circumstances (perhaps, staring down the barrel of an inevitable hiatus), they would have made different choices, if provided the chance to do so. These words also parallel the titular lyrics from SRAR’s Just One Yesterday: “Then I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday”.
These lyrics also read as the inverse of those found in the band’s first album. During Saturday, the narrator suggests that “I’ve read about the afterlife / But I’ve never really lived more than an hour”. The lyrics of later albums grow to be regretful and somewhat jaded (“Perfect boys / With their perfect lives / Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy”).
“All the rookies leave your badge and your gun on the desk / When you leave the room” has always struck me as a lyric that was part poetry, part premonition — especially coming from the album’s opening track. Pete has described this line as a “reference to police movies where the cop just starting on the beat really wants to catch the guy and the commish benches him”. It’s a heart-breaking sentiment when applied to band’s internal struggle with the hiatus. Pete has spoken at length about how the break was obviously incredibly necessary; however, at the time, it was a conclusion that was incredibly difficult for him. Pete had no desire to put the band on hold. In this way, maybe the decision to take a hiatus really did feel like being benched.
It’s difficult to say how much was known of the eventual hiatus at the time that Folie was being put together. While the record’s poor reception likely had a significant impact on the speed and immediacy of the band’s sudden break, perhaps it helps to imagine that the guys had some idea of what they were racing toward. So many parts of the album read like either subtle (“I know we're gonna leave this town / And get new passports and get out now”) or incredibly overt (“I will never believe in anything again”, “They say the captain goes down with the ship”) references to the climax or conclusion of something. In a lot of ways, this record feels like the end of an era; I’ve always felt as though that came through consciously in the music.
Ultimately, this song is just a landmark in the greater story of Fall Out Boy. The manic and frustrated tones of the record are now just a moment in the musical history of our four favourite musicians. In Pete’s own words: “And in the end / I'd do it all again / I think you're my best friend”.
We’re all doing alright. Hope this gave you something to think about.
then please give us the essay on from now on we are enemies
I spent too much time thinking about this song, so please forgive me for the essay! This absolute monster is also dedicated to @thenimyourprince
As always, this is only my personal interpretation of the lyrics; while you’re all free to hunt me for sport, I would prefer it if you didn’t. I am, after all, just shouting into the void. Bless xxx
Okay, here we go:
Pete is well-known for being a self-described film aficionado, and a bit of a pop-culture fanatic. His lyrics are full of dual-meanings, innuendo, obscure movie references and subtle nods to contemporary literature. These references are often either incredibly vague and scattered, or they serve as the basis or through-line for entire songs. Now, I’m only going to speak briefly about the film that I believe Pete may have referenced for this piece — I’m not super familiar with it, but I know enough to draw some parallels.
The 1984 film Amadeus is a fictionalised retelling of the life of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (yeah, that guy). The film follows the fictional rivalry between Mozart and an Italian composer, Antonio Salieri, who was jealous of Mozart’s musical genius. If I’m not incorrect, the title of the song comes from a monologue that Salieri directs to God — expressing his anger that the ‘heavenly father’ chose Mozart as His imperfect vessel through which to bless humankind with incredible music.
The lines go something like:
“From now on we are enemies, You and I. Because You chose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty, infantile boy — and give me, for reward, only the ability to recognise the incarnation.”
Now, we’ll come back this quote.
If you were going to argue that this film is the sole inspiration for the fob song, you’d be able to make a pretty solid case. The song makes direct reference to musicians who create their own works (composers). It provides film-appropriate allusions to Mozart’s struggles with alcohol addiction (“I just want to be better than your head's only medicine / A downward spiral just a pirouette / Getting worse til there's nothing left”). The song even alludes to Salieri’s jealousy: “I only want what I can’t have”. There’s more if you care to look; like I’ve said, there’s a solid case for this solo reading. BUT I believe that nothing is ever that simple — especially when it comes to Pete Wentz.
(Also, you’re in my world now. Just hold on tight, and come along for the ride.)
It’s pretty impossible to ignore that this song was released as a bonus track on Believers Never Die, the greatest hits record released just prior to the commencement of the hiatus. At this point, tensions were high and disagreements were vicious and common, especially between Pete and Patrick. @infintyonhigh has a great post unpacking how a lot of Folie reads like Patrick and Pete just picking at each other through the music — over and over again. I would not be surprised if the song’s title was intended to be, at least, somewhat literal. With that context in mind, let’s continue.
To me, this song reads like Pete mourning the seemingly-inevitable loss of his band — and getting in a couple of final, cheap shots while he’s at it. Pete has often spoken about how low he was at beginning of the hiatus, how the loss of the band amplified his own depression and marriage issues. The same lyrics that could allude to Mozart’s substance abuse and mental struggles could also reference Pete’s own similar battles, as well as the simultaneous, slow implosion of the band. The line “What good comes of something when I’m just the ghost of nothing?” sounds a lot like the words of a man who feels as though he’s been left behind by everything in his life (band, marriage, etc.) — like he’s just an afterimage. This theme is continued in the chorus: “I'm just the man on the balcony singing: / ‘Nobody will ever remember me’”. If a band dies, who is left to sing their songs? If Joe won’t play the riffs, Andy isn’t on the drums, and Patrick won’t sing Pete’s words… does Pete really exist at all?
“Rejoice, rejoice and fall to your knees” brings to mind the way that Joe and Patrick fought for the need to take a break, how they pushed for the hiatus — and eventually got what they wanted, while Pete felt as though his world was collapsing.
Speaking of Patrick…
Remember that quote from earlier?
I would not be surprised if Pete cast himself as the famed Mozart — an eccentric, gifted yet difficult artist with a god complex (“Lunatic of a god / Or a god of a lunatic?”) — and Patrick as the begrudging peer who has grown frustrated that Mozart’s (Pete’s) presence is necessary to produce wondrous music for the masses. Salieri’s description of Mozart as a “boastful, lustful, smutty, infantile boy” definitely seems like something that Pete would think of himself; however, it also doesn’t seem too far away from some of Patrick’s more aggressive insults. (I have a vague memory of Patrick calling Pete an “erratic narcissist” or something similar, but don’t quote me on that). These lines seem to be about the slow breakdown of the band and their relationship. It’s about being forced to keep pumping out tracks together, all the while growing more and more frustrated with their musical counterparts: “Oh, their faces are dancing / They're dancing til / Til they can't stand it”.
Now here’s the kicker: “A composer but never composed”. Patrick is Fall Out Boy’s musical heart. He’s the songwriter. The sound starts with him. Patrick is a composer. He’s also Pete’s favourite pretentious asshole. Patrick has never been calm or collected about music, especially when Pete is involved. He’s slapped cameras out of hands during recording sessions. He’s thrown punches over chord progressions. He’s admitted to being a control freak in the studio — a composer who is never composed, one who is known for “singing the symphonies of the overdosed”.
Oh, Pete.
Pete has had his struggles with substance abuse in the past, and is, thankfully, in a much better place now. I won’t go into too much detail on his overdose scares — I don’t think it’s my place. But these lines hurt. Patrick as the composer without calm, and Pete as the lyrical genius who is just barely hanging on. The madness of two. What a match, huh? It makes the following line even more insane to me: “A composer but never composed / Singing: ‘I only want what I can't have’”. Patrick is the composer singing Pete’s words. Pete only wants what he can’t have — for the band to stay together, for his best friend to stop resenting him, for everything to work itself out. Fuck, man. This song.
I’m thankful these dudes found their way back to each other, and I’m glad we’re all still kicking. I could go on forever about this song, but I might as well cut myself off here. I hope it gave you something to think about.
A few days ago the question of the differences between Endeavour/Morse/book-timeline came up so here a few words on that (nb: I haven't read all books, yet and I didn't take notes while reading so everything about the books is just my faulty memory)
Morse's family
The books just tell us that his mother died early and his father shortly after he joined the police. There are no definite dates but at least I got the impression that it was rather 'a few months after Morse joined' and not the two or three years we see in Endeavour.
In the Inspector Morse-episode Cherubim and Seraphim Morse tells Lewis that his parents divorced when he was twelve, he then lived with his mother who died when he was 15. Then he moved in with his father and unpleasant stepmom.
According to the Endeavour-pilot his mother died when he was twelve. Nothing about a divorce but still an unpleasant stepmom.
(On a side-note: Joyce's age was already slightly confusing in the original series, again no dates but the actress who plays her in C&S was only sevenyears younger than John Thaw which also doesn't fit with the timeline).
Morse's ex-fiancee
And the fun starts here. Depending on which canon you choose she's either Wendy (the books), Susan (the original series), Wendy-who-liked-to-be-called-Susan (Endeavour) or Sally (a short-story Dexter wrote some years after finishing the books).
Basically just choose whatever you like for fanfic it's not like the writers care.
All TV-series are a bit shady on the exact reasons why it didn't work out but according to the books her mother got seriously ill and she decided that she could not care for her and keep up the engagement so she broke off with him. (The heartbreak over that lead to Morse's grades, which had already suffered as he had spent more time with Wendy than his books, dropping even further and him eventually quitting university/basically getting thrown out).
(note to Mods, the formatting looks weird, so I've corrected it. This is Version 2, hopefully should be correct for submission, thanks)
Endeavour maths
(I over-analyse fiction and I’m not ashamed to admit it)
- The Pilot and Series 1 are set in 1965, Year Zero, shall we say. We know he was at police training college for 2 years before that, and in the army for an unspecified period before joining the police.
- Morse dropped out of university just before his finals, which was 7 years ago, according to Alice Vexin in Ep 3, so 1958. (Incidentally, it seems extremely unlikely she would have to remind him it’s been 7 years not 6, what with it being the year his fiancee ran off with someone else and he dropped out of college, failed to take any of his exams, had a semi-breakdown, and ran away to join the army. I mean, I remember the exact date I left university, and none of those things happened to me)
- Standard degrees are 3 years, and nobody took gap years back then, so we can safely assume Morse “went up” to Oxford in October 1955, at the age of 18.
- Which means, as we’re currently in the depths of Winter 1965, Morse is now 28.
- If he was 18 before September 1955 (which he would have to be in order to qualify for that year’s university intake), he must have been born between September 1937 and August 1938.
- Morse was 12 when his mother died, which according to the dates on her grave, was May 17th 1950. So his 13th birthday must have fallen somewhere between then and the end of August 1950 (for him to be 18 in October 1955). Born in Summer 1938 then.
- His mother’s birthdate on her grave is given as April 22nd 1921, which means she must have only been 17 when she gave birth to him. That’s very, very young – cough shotgun wedding cough. Of course, getting married young might have been part of her religion, but from what I know about Quakers, that seems doubtful. Also, from everything we know about him, I would guess that Morse’s father probably wasn’t a Quaker himself (he might have given his daughter a more interesting name otherwise, I mean; Endeavour… and Joyce).
- Incidentally, teetotalism is one of the pillars of the Quaker religion, but we also have a casual reference to Morse’s father being “a taxi driver, until he lost his licence” (Pilot), which makes me wonder if Morse Senior was a bit of a drinker, at least, after the death of his first wife, and that was another contributory factor towards Morse taking “the pledge” not to drink alcohol. These days Morse Senior likes a flutter on the horses as well; so either he’s fallen very far from his Quaker beginnings, or he was never one to start with. Mind you, he does know his Proverbs. (Joyce: “When I told Pops (about Morse being back in Oxford), he just said, Proverbs 26:11.” – that’s the one that goes, “as a dog returns to its vomit, so fools repeat their folly”. Delightful.)
- Joyce is only his half-sister; that’s Morse canon, but she does also tell him, “You remind him of your mother”, which suggests they’re sticking with canon in this series too. However, even if Morse Senior remarried Gwen the Evil Stepmother and had Joyce within a year of Constance’s death, that’s still only 1951, which would make Joyce 14 years old in our Year Zero of 1965. Clearly, both the actress playing her and the character of Joyce are in their early 20s, at the very least. I imagine the writers and producers probably had this conversation: “Hmmm, that doesn’t work at all, does it? oh sod it, no-one will notice except fangirls…”
- In the deathbed scenes in Ep 4, Morse Senior is clearly meant to be in his late 50s, at the very least (I would have said late 60s). He would have been a decade, maybe even 15 years older than Constance when he married her and got her pregnant (in whichever order that happened). I appreciate that they picked an actor with more than a passing resemblance to John Thaw in his Morse heyday though; nice touch, that.
———————————————————————————
So, the Endeavour timeline:
- April 22nd 1921: Constance Morse is born
- Somewhere between May 17th and the end of August 1938: Endeavour Morse is born
- May 17th 1951: Constance Morse dies
- October 1955: Endeavour Morse goes to Oxford University, age 18
- October 1956 – sometime in 1957: Meets, falls in love with and gets engaged to Wendy-who-preferred-to-be-called-Susan, who sounds like a total flake, if you ask me.
- Spring 1958: Fiancee runs off with her ex. Has breakdown. Drops out of university before final exams (which are usually in May/ June).
- 1958/59: Joins army (cipher clerk in the Signal Corps, “doesn’t take”)
(there may be a period of doing something else/ not doing anything/ having another breakdown between leaving the army and joining the police)
- 1962/63: Joins the police force, undertakes 2 years of basic training.
- Late 1964/ early 1965: Sent to Carshall New Town police station (which is probably meant to be somewhere like Slough or Swindon – either way, not far from Oxford)
- Spring 1965: Seconded to Cowley Road police station in Oxford. Meets Detective Inspector Fred Thursday, without whose intervention Morse would almost certainly have quit the police force and ruined his life. Let’s face it; dropping out of university and the army and the police force within the space of ten years is not going to look very good on any subsequent job applications, is it? A deeply unfulfilling job shelving books in the basement of a polytechnic library somewhere boring like Hull or Leicester, and drinking himself to death within fifteen years, I reckon. Or worse; it’s Morse canon that he tried to kill himself as a teenager…
- Spring 1966: Series 2, obviously (There’d bloody well better be, ITV!)
(I should say; I am very bad at maths. I was once fired from a job counting shoe boxes in a warehouse for that very reason. After only three hours. If anyone finds any errors in my dates, please do let me know, I shall not be offended!)
