Sometimes at night I can hear the ice crack. It sounds like thunder and rips through my back. – Tom Cochrane, Big League
Each time I hear those lyrics, a shiver runs down my spine. I can hear that ice. I can feel its strength, its cold power, and I can sense the ripping in my body as if I was the one skating for my life.
The strength of those two simple sentences gets me every time.
Granted, the song is a great one. It’s all about the dream of young boys who want to play in the NHL hockey leagues. I also love skating with a passion. Add to that the fact that hockey is the Canadian way. Where I live, kids strap on skates before they can walk and almost every kid can wield a hockey stick like an extension of his arm.
But the song gets me because Cochrane uses words so effectively to evoke a mental image and a clear sensation. He conveys the image of power, a strong yearning, and a silent moment in time with nothing but steel and ice to the point that I feel like I’m there, alone in the chilly air, my breathe fogging before me and the hockey rink wide open.
All mine. It’s just me and the ice. With nothing holding me back.
Songwriters have it hard, I think. They have to grab a listener’s emotion with their lyrics and get people to sing alone in the car or say, “Can you feel it?” I can feel it. Cracking ice… loud as thunder and ripping up my spine… Oh yeah, I can feel it.
So the next time you sit down to write, think about the ice, the sharp metal blade of a skate hissing on its surface. Think about how simple it was for Tom to pair a small handful of selective words to create a sensation that his listeners can feel.
You can do that. Use your words. Evoke sensations. Grip your readers in a steel fist, seize their soul and make them live the moment with you.
With all due respect, you need to become a better listener. The song is not “all about the dream of young boys who want to play in the NHL hockey leagues.” It’s about a father who lost his son. The cracking of the ice doesn’t beckon him, it torments him.
Blame my sources and my subjective listening – I tend to listen literally and subtle messages go ten feet over my head.
Wikipedia: “In the fall of 1988, the band released their sixth album Victory Day which contained the track “Big League”, about a boy’s dream of playing in the National Hockey League. The song was featured in a segment on CBC Television’s Hockey Night in Canada.”
Canoe: Cochrane, 49, says his favourite songs are Lunatic Fringe, Boy Inside the Man, Life is a Highway and Big League, which is based on a true story of an up-and-coming hockey player who died in a car accident.
“It’s written in the full Canadian narrative style and it talks about a specific Canadian experience, playing hockey, and a dad, and I’m thinking about my dad a lot these days, obviously,” he says.
Thanks for bringing that to light – I honestly didn’t know. Doesn’t make me a bad listener, just an uninformed one. My apologies to Tom.
(But that’s not really the point of the post…)
No problem. There’s a real subtlety to the song that’s easy to miss. It could be worse – for example, many Americans misinterpret much less-subtle songs like “American Womanâ€, “Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World†or “Born in the USA†to be patriotic flag-waving songs. Of course you are right that the song concerns a boy’s dream of playing in the NHL, but the message of the song is not one of glory, but of sorrow and loss. Listen to the song again with this in mind, and you will experience it in a new way that may move you much more than it did before.
P.S. The message is in the song – it’s just not blatant:
“Out with his girl near Lake McClean
Hit a truck doing seventy in the wrong laneâ€;
“Never can tell when you might check out
Just don’t know, no you never can tellâ€
Cripes, I’m almost afraid to listen to the song now! It already had such a profound effect before and knowing what it means now will hit me twice as hard. My Dad passed away a few years back and I still can’t listen to “Tears in Heaven” by Clapton without getting choked up.
I do really appreciate you pointing out the subtleties, even though you may have wrecked my skating sensation pleasure.
As for misinterpretation, I live in Quebec where the population is predominantly French… Ever hear a French guy with a thick accent try to sing “American Woman” in English? Hilarious.
Without getting into the nuances of the song’s lyrics (I wasn’t familiar with it, although it sounds like a good one) – I suppose my take on James’ piece would be to write from the heart, using simple yet powerful language.
In this way, you can reach a wider audience and affect them. Your reader will know if you mean what you write, and I think it best not to try and make things sound more complex than they need be.
Where I work, many people seem to specialize in this – using large words for simple concepts. I have my own personal theory (developed over the past few years as my children get older) – it is this:
“If you cannot explain something to a five-year old child in five minutes or less, there is a good chance that it is useless bullshit.”
I have been able to explain to my oldest in simple terms what I do at work (I work at a nuclear facility), and he does have a good grasp of the concept. I note that I probably wouldn’t be able to explain to him many of the management concepts, however…
…which seems to indicate that they are useless…
So – write from the heart – keep it simple – touch other people.
James – My condolences. My father passed away almost 5 years ago, and “The Living Years†still gets to me. I can’t listen to that song today, but I am grateful to Mike and the Mechanics for it because it inspired me to say some things to my father before it was too late. It’s tough to lose your father, but I console myself by asserting that even when it happens too soon, it is nonetheless the natural order of things. I pray my son must some day cope with my death, rather than I his.
Brett – I agree with keeping it simple. If you have something important to say, say it so that as many people as possible will get the message. But in this case, if James (like most people who have heard the song) fail to perceive its true message, then maybe that song isn’t the best example of simple words conveying a powerful message? Then again, maybe Tom Cochrane intended his song to be like one of those optical illusions where at first you see a young lady, but after someone redefines it for you, all you can see is an old woman. I remember when that song was at the peak of its popularity. I knew several people who would listen to it and envision a young man in his glory on the ice. After I pointed out certain lyrics (sandwiched between triumphant proclamations like “my boy’s gonna play in the big league!) all they can envision is something very different: an old man lying in bed, anguished by the crack of the ice, haunted by the ghosts of the sound of “ice meets metalâ€, tortured by the memories of truncated dreams.
Jack – I suspect you are right about Tom Cochrane perhaps hiding meaning in the simple words. I have often found that with music, and poetry (which are pretty much the same, really) – with both, it often takes many, many listens or readings to get to the true meaning behind the words.
Perhaps another way of looking at it could be – you can convey very powerful meaning, with very simple words. No need to complicate things or try to make yourself sound “impressive” with four and five syllable words.
I think I’ll have to find that song somewhere and listen to it tonight.
Thanks for the words – Brett
Interesting discussion about a song that I’ve always liked, but apparently never thought about enough.
For reference: the lyrics.
Wow. Thanks guys, for your words. It’s always interesting to see which direction the comment threads go.
@ Brett – That’s probably why I detest reading poetry or am often startled by the true meaning of songs – it takes many reads or listens to sift down to the core message.
@ Jack – He was in his seventies and had Alzheimers for many years (too many). I never had the chance to tell my Dad I loved him – we didn’t say such things in my family. “The Living Years” is a song I haven’t thought of in ages, mostly because it sums up too much of what I missed in life with my Dad. Or maybe because it means so much.
@ Andrew – I’ll join you in thinking tonight.
I had a look at the lyrics to that song – and yeah, I guess I remember hearing it on the radio (the chorus rang a bell). Very deep song. I’ll have to try and borrow a copy from someone and have a listen.
I am lucky to still have both of my parents, but I understand loss in a different way. My oldest son had a twin sister, she was born early at 21 weeks and she was only with us for about an hour before she passed away. There is not really anything that can be done for a child who comes that early. So perhaps, for me, this song may grow to have some meaning. I understand how the dad in that song feels.
At the very end of that song, the lyrics basically say to do unto others as you would have them do unto you, because you don’t know when your time will come (that isn’t a direct quote, but that’s the gist). Wise words – treat others right. And perhaps, another reason to do things right now, and not procrastinate until tomorrow – as tomorrow may never come.
And now I’m glad I didn’t know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I’d of had to miss the dance
Garth Brooks, “The Dance”
That song always gets me.
Since we’re on to meaningful lyrics:
“Who knows how long this will last
Now we’ve come so far, so fast
But somewhere back there in the dust
That same small town in each of us.”
Don Henley
“End of the Innocence”
Cochrane is a great poet. MY favorite is “White Hot” and his references to Africa.
Brett – Your story really hit me. I have twin boys.
Kim – multiples are very special. We were lucky to have our son, after all of the difficulty we had, and we are also lucky to have had another multiple set – two more boys, and a lovely girl (yes, four in total!)
I am in the midst of writing a book about our story. My wife is the strongest person I’ve ever met. She was diagnosed with thyroid cancer 3 months into the triplet pregnancy and had her thyroid out two weeks after giving birth to the babies.
@ Brett – I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine that kind of pain.
This reminds me of that storybook by Munsch, “Love you Forever.” My daughter had me read it once, and I could barely finish it. I put it away (for good), but it still haunts me.
If we’re getting too serious, we can always contemplate why I love the devil in Garden of Allah by Don Henley. Sounds so smooth.
@ James – thank you – I imagine that loss of a parent is just as difficult as loss of a child, just different. Yes, I know that book. My oldest son used to ask me to read it all the time, and I found it difficult to finish. So simple, yet so powerful. I’m not sure he understood the meaning at the time.
I’ve always found (for me, anyway) that talking about loss helps – I think it honours the memory of your loved ones. Our son asked us once if he had a sister – this was before the triplets came along – we had not told him, but somehow he knew. So we told him a little bit about what had happened, in terms that he could understand. He went around telling everyone for weeks that he had a sister named Hailey and that she was in heaven.
You can learn a lot from a child.
Yes – Don Henley is very cool. I think I may have to listen to some of his music tonight.
@ Brett – My sympathies. The loss of a parent is tough, but you should expect it to happen someday. No one should ever have to deal with the loss of a child.
On a lighter note…
@ James – come on, didn’t you find “Love you forever” to be just a little creepy? I mean, sneaking in the bedroom and singing to your sleeping infant is fine. But crawling in the room on your hands and knees when the child is a teenager, then crawling into bed with them to sing to them seems just a tad weird. But driving across town with a ladder to climb up the side of the house and sneak into your adult child’s window so you can crawl into bed with them and sing to them is just plain twisted. Isn’t it?
Weeeell, I’d have to beg to differ. My mother recently broke her hip and required some care on my part. To me, it was no different than caring for my toddler. And my teen was recently sick, too…
No, I can see wanting to hold someone you love. Age doesn’t matter.
(Of course, when you’re in the old folks’ home trying to pick up the lass on the rocking chair beside you, I would figure age might matter…)
Great lyrics like that seem to be a thing of the past these days. Or maybe I’ve stopped listening. I mostly listen to jazzy instrumental pieces now. I can hardly stand conventional music these days. All those over-produced beats and lyrical kvetching makes me want to stick sharp pencils in my ears.
Joe