China Doll
Introduction
It is, apparently, awfully hard to find a picture of a broken or cracked china doll online that doesnât immediately bring one to the brink of depression. Â The one above, though, inspires me. Â I wish I could link you to more of the artistâs work.
Despite the strange title of our little blog, weâre not particularly in to exploring the dark side of the human experience for its own sake, not on Mondays or any other day. Â Weâre here for the music, and what it shows us about ourselves. Â For us, in murder ballads as in all art, the dark and light must go together to make meaning. Â Todayâs song has both, in what I perceive to be a perfect balance given the context.
It uses a fractured china doll as its pivotal image, but it is certainly not like those in the sad pictures that litter the internet.  And when I found the evocative image that caps todayâs post, I knew it fit.  For one thing, Robert Hunterâs âChina Dollâ, made famous by The Grateful Dead, resists static definition.  The song, like the dollâs face in the photograph, gets its depth of meaning from the person behind it â I donât mean the lyricist, but the listener.
For it to mean something to you, you have to stand inside the song and see/feel/hear for yourself. Â Further, though there is violence and (probably, but not necessarily) death in âChina Dollâ, there is redemption and salvation. Â It is, simply put, a delicate piece. And though the song seems to break apart even as we listen to it, the pieces fall in such a way that we might look through them and be whole.
Let me be clear.  This song has not a thing at all to do with cliche images of feminine frailty.  It is, rather, a surprisingly luminous song about the bleak reality of a suicide.
âA pistol shot at five oâclockâŚâ
âWait!â youâll say. Â âYou said the meaning isnât static!â
True. However, we know the context of the lyrics. Â Iâll excerpt below the interview with Hunter wherein he reveals that one working title of the piece was âThe Suicide Songâ. Â But titles and inspiration donât alone make meaning in art â that takes an audience of at least one.
So, despite telling you the context, I put it to you now that this song is very much open for interpretation.  Certainly it takes you on a walk down that familiar line between life and death â in fact, the whole song is set precisely along its unmistakable curve â but the path youâll find there is for your steps alone.
More on that in a bit â for now, letâs get to the music. Â Deadheads will tell you that itâs one of the bandâs greats, though theyâll often have a hard time articulating why. Â Iâm going to give it a shot below; but first, listen for yourself. Â Weâll start with the studio version included on From the Mars Hotel (1974).
To understand the context, itâs essential to realize that the lyrics include three voices. Â As in traditional ballads, there is no signal to indicate which voice intones at a given point. You just have to âget itâ, which surely helps explain why the song can be so puzzling â weâre just not used to hearing such lyrics in English if weâre disconnected from the ballad tradition.
However, in Robert Hunterâs collected lyrics, A Box of Rain, the print makes clear at least when each voice sounds.  The first two lines are the only sung by a narrator.  The rest of the song is a dialogue between an observer/questioner (indicated below by italics), and someone who acted but wonât tell âwhat s/he done it forâ, âitâ presumably being the firing of the pistol and the creation of whatever consequences that act entails.

Detail from Triumph of Death â Pieter Bruegel the Elder, ca. 1562 The skeleton on the cart is playing a hurdy gurdy
-A pistol shot at 5 oâclock
The bells of heaven ring-
Tell me what you done it for.
âNo I wonât tell you a thing
Yesterday I begged you
before I hit the ground â
all I leave behind me
is only what I found
If you can abide it
let the hurdy gurdy play â
Stranger ones have come by here
before they flew away
I will not condemn you
nor yet would I denyâŚâ
I would ask the same of you
but failing will not dieâŚ
Take up your china doll
itâs only fractured â
and just a little nervous
from the fall
Though it relies on multiple voices, this is clearly no traditional ballad â thereâs just not enough of a plot.  Yet, neither is it just random psychedelic imagery.  Something intense happened with a pistol â and two characters, who seem not to be strangers to one another, are discussing it.  You can guess the context once you figure the basic identity of the voices, insofar as the âactorâ speaks of âall I leave behind meâ â of his or her impending death.  That interpretive jump is not long.
So, itâs not a *story* of a suicide, but it isnât a simple snapshot of one either. Â What is it then?
âNo I wonât tell you a thingâŚâ
It behooves us I think to step back for a moment and, instead of trying to figure out what the song exactly âmeansâ, listen to what the poet has to say about why that particular way of engaging the lyrics is, at least for him, a less-than-fruitful exercise.  On February 23, 1988, Blair Jackson interviewed Robert Hunter for his Grateful Dead âfanzineâ The Golden Road. That interview is included in Jacksonâs book Goinâ Down the Road: A Grateful Dead Travelling Companion.  The following excerpt is most enlightening regarding âChina Doll.â
Jackson: Are there certain characters in your solo work or your Grateful Dead work that you particularly like or feel close to?
Hunter: Gee, I donât know.  [Long pause]  I guess I donât really look at them that way.  I donât have a thoughtful, reasonable answer to that.  Maybe if you gave me an example.
Jackson: Well, for instance, even though the circumstances of the charactersâ lives in tunes like âWharf Ratâ and âChina Dollâ are tragic, I sense a lot of empathy toward the plight of the characters, a real loving attitude toward them.
Hunter: I could tell you what âChina Dollâ means but I really wouldnât want to get into it. Â âA pistol shot at five oâclock the bells of heaven ring.â Â Do you understand what that songâs about?
Jackson: Iâve always assumed it was about a literal or metaphorical suicide.
Hunter: Good, âcause one of my original titles for it was âThe Suicide Song.â  Itâs almost like a ghost voice: âTell me what you done it for / No I wonât tell you a thing.â  Itâs a little dialogue like that.  I donât know about love being in there.  I think itâs a terrifying song.  And then itâs also got some affirmation of how it can be mended somehow.  Thereâs a bit of metaphysical content in there which I kind of leave open, not that I subscribe or donât subscribe to it.  At the time it resonated right.  That song is eerie and very, very beautiful the way Jerry handles it.
Jackson: I guess Iâve always sensed that thereâs another character in there, literally or figuratively, who is empathizing with the main character and understanding why itâs happening and saying in effect, âItâs all right.â
Hunter: Well, yeah, sort of like a guardian angel.  Who knows who or what that is?  This is a dangerous area for me to be talking about â the metaphysics of my lyrics.  You donât want me to start passing judgments on this.
Jackson: Iâm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.
Hunter: Itâs fine up to this point, but Iâd just as soon move away from the subject of lyric interpretation.  All of a sudden my alarm started to go off because itâs almost as if Iâm starting to set something very delicate into concrete.  And then, once Iâve set it in concrete I realize âNo, thatâs not what it means at all.  Thatâs not it anymore.â  Because if it is that concrete, I might as well write books of philosophy.  The poet is touching and questioning.  Itâs open to interpretation.  I know to some degree what I intended there [in âChina Dollâ], or I know what some of the resonances in there seem to be to me, even if I canât put too good a logical head on it.  It seemed right.  I trusted it.  I had to.
Ambiguity abounds, and Hunter wants it that way. Â Indeed, if you believe poets when they report that words come through them instead of *from* them, it had to be that way for him. He âhad toâ trust it. Â And I believe itâs part of why the song is beloved by Deadheads. Â We all get to come at it from our own experience, and there are observation ports in the song that allow a variety of perspectives.
Consider one key point for illustration. Â Weâre not even sure, because of that last uplifting verse at the end, that death is the outcome for the character that pulls the trigger. The observer/questioner is, indeed, saying âItâs all rightâ. Â But why and for whom?
How might this song be heard by someone who was close to a person who attempted suicide but failed, as opposed to someone close to a person who succeeded? Â As a member of the latter group, it would be easy for me to say that Hunter *knew* what someone like me felt and put it in to words better than I might. Â I could say itâs *clearly* about someone whoâs committed suicide, and that the redemption in the song is significant both metaphysically and personally for a person close to the deceased â that they *need* it to be that way.
But the truth is that Iâm filling in the blanks and informing his poetry with my own experience. Â Itâs perfectly valid, but not exclusive. Iâm experiencing my own emotional depths regarding my friendâs suicide more clearly through Hunterâs song, in the same way that the right glasses sharpen my otherwise nearsighted vision of the mountains around my home. Â You might live on the Great Plains though, and so with the same lenses gain clarity of an entirely different horizon.
One could argue that such is true of all art. Â But, to my mind, âChina Dollâ represents an extremely sophisticated version of that dynamic. Â Whatever compelled his muse is properly hidden from Hunterâs song in this case, and so we all gain access to the vision wherever we might make our psychic home.
Thus, we donât need to run through all of the possible interpretations.  If youâre interested in that sort of thinking, you can check out the entry at The Annotated Grateful Dead Lyrics for several angles on the language and concepts, and even a truly far out read on the lyrics!  If nothing else, it will emphasize my point about ambiguity.
Clearly though, however we interpret the setting or the ultimate outcome for the character who pulls the trigger, we are all witness in this song to a few moments between life and death. Whoever the observing/questioning character might be, the dialogue takes place metaphysically in that liminal space.  We can call that place the gates of heaven, a plane of consciousness, a hospital bedside, or simply a moment of imagination about a friend gone too soon â and in every case, the song still works.
These are a remarkable five short verses.
âIf you can abide it, let the hurdy gurdy playâŚâ
There are a few things about Garciaâs musical treatment of âChina Dollâ that amplify Hunterâs lyrics, and I would be remiss if I failed to consider them.  As I mentioned above, there is no coherent plot of which to speak. Itâs essential then, if this song is to reach the lofty heights to which it aspires, that the instruments do some of the heavy lifting otherwise taken on by proper storytelling and vocal delivery in a traditional ballad.
No doubt, Iâm not the first person to articulate any of this â this is just my take on whatâs rather obvious to any careful listener.
To illustrate, letâs get another take on the song: this time with a live, acoustic performance from Fall 1980.  Itâs hard to imagine a more delicate renditionâŚ
Garcia is certainly doing the yeomanâs work in setting the tone with his vocal delivery, but the synthesized harpsichord, as in the studio version, truly lifts this song aloft. Â I know of no song quite like it! Â Itâs not rock and roll, itâs not folk music â itâs âChina Dollâ, and thatâs that. Â The harpsichord to me evokes spider webs and broken light on water, cracked glass and dandelion seeds on the wind. Â It is precisely the right instrument to raise the mournful rhythm of these few words.
The harpsichord, as well, is a great complement to Garciaâs careful guitar work, particularly in the live acoustic version.  The attack and release of every note in his solo shudders with emotional weight, even as the measures together rise gracefully.
Finally, the modulation from minor to major key for the final verse and resolution is critical.  Without it, we might as well be looking at screens full of those pictures of broken dolls, kidding ourselves about being really in touch with our emotions.  With that last verse and the key change though, the listener is delivered back to solid Earth from the terrifying threshold between worlds.
Listen to it again! Itâs around 4:00 in the acoustic version.
Is it a message about whatâs next for the victim in death, or in life?  Is it the observer consoling him or herself, moving on after tragedy, or is it consolation for a family and friends of someone passed?  Again, we get to figure and feel all that for ourselves.  My own interpretations have changed through the years, and thatâs exactly how I like it.
Coda
Itâs worth mentioning in closing that, though âChina Dollâ is almost exclusively known only by Deadheads, there is one prominent cover of this song recorded by Suzanne Vega in 1991 for the album Deadicated: A Tribute to the Grateful Dead. Though in the liner notes she makes no mention of why she chose this song as one of two she covers, Vega does tell a story there thatâs worth knowing.
âGrateful Dead Rainforest Benefit Concert: Suzanne Vega with Jerry Garciaâ Robert A. Minkin, September 24, 1988 â Grateful Dead Archive Online
âA couple of years ago, I was invited by the Grateful Dead to perform with them at Madison Square Garden in New York for the Rainforest Benefit.  I went to the hotel to rehearse with them, and said, âWhat do you think we should do?â  I was nervous â Iâd never met them and we were going to perform in front of 20,000 people.  So Jerry Garcia gave me a big smile and said, âWe just want you to be happy.â  And all week long I used that as my guide and did only things that made me happyâŚâ
Itâs funny â the person who put this YouTube version together used one of those awful broken dolls surrounded by black for the visual background. Â I donât get that feeling from Vegaâs performance any more than from the Deadâs. If ever a terribly sad song could raise your spirits, this is the one.
Thanks for reading and listening folks!
A special message to Deadheads â You may want to check out our other Grateful Dead related posts at Murder Ballad Monday!
Jack Straw (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)
Murder at the Dead Show (Set 1, Set 2, Encore)
Cold Rain and Snow (Part 1, Part 2)
Â