China Doll
title unknown – copyright louise-jane photography (website unknown)
Introduction
It is, apparently, awfully hard to find a picture of a broken or cracked china doll online that doesn’t immediately bring one to the brink of depression. The one above, though, inspires me. I wish I could link you to more of the artist’s work.
Despite the strange title of our little blog, we’re not particularly in to exploring the dark side of the human experience for its own sake, not on Mondays or any other day. We’re here for the music, and what it shows us about ourselves. For us, in murder ballads as in all art, the dark and light must go together to make meaning. Today’s 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 today’s post, I knew it fit. For one thing, Robert Hunter‘s “China Doll”, made famous by The Grateful Dead, resists static definition. The song, like the doll’s face in the photograph, gets its depth of meaning from the person behind it – I don’t 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. Further, though there is violence and (probably, but not necessarily) death in “China Doll”, there is redemption and salvation. 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.
“A pistol shot at five o’clock…”
“Wait!” you’ll say. “You said the meaning isn’t static!”
True. However, we know the context of the lyrics. I’ll excerpt below the interview with Hunter wherein he reveals that one working title of the piece was “The Suicide Song”. But titles and inspiration don’t alone make meaning in art – 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 – in fact, the whole song is set precisely along its unmistakable curve – but the path you’ll find there is for your steps alone.
More on that in a bit – for now, let’s get to the music. Deadheads will tell you that it’s one of the band’s greats, though they’ll often have a hard time articulating why. I’m going to give it a shot below; but first, listen for yourself. We’ll start with the studio version included on From the Mars Hotel (1974).
To understand the context, it’s essential to realize that the lyrics include three voices. As in traditional ballads, there is no signal to indicate which voice intones at a given point. You just have to ‘get it’, which surely helps explain why the song can be so puzzling – we’re just not used to hearing such lyrics in English if we’re disconnected from the ballad tradition.
However, in Robert Hunter’s 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 won’t tell ‘what s/he done it for’, ‘it’ presumably being the firing of the pistol and the creation of whatever consequences that act entails.
Detail from Triumph of Death – Pieter Bruegel the Elder, ca. 1562 The skeleton on the cart is playing a hurdy gurdy
-A pistol shot at 5 o’clock
The bells of heaven ring-
Tell me what you done it for.
“No I won’t tell you a thing
Yesterday I begged you
before I hit the ground –
all I leave behind me
is only what I found
If you can abide it
let the hurdy gurdy play –
Stranger ones have come by here
before they flew away
I will not condemn you
nor yet would I deny…”
I would ask the same of you
but failing will not die…
Take up your china doll
it’s only fractured –
and just a little nervous
from the fall
Though it relies on multiple voices, this is clearly no traditional ballad – there’s just not enough of a plot. Yet, neither is it just random psychedelic imagery. Something intense happened with a pistol – 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 ‘actor’ speaks of “all I leave behind me” – of his or her impending death. That interpretive jump is not long.
So, it’s not a *story* of a suicide, but it isn’t a simple snapshot of one either. What is it then?
“No I won’t tell you a thing…”
It behooves us I think to step back for a moment and, instead of trying to figure out what the song exactly ‘means’, 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 ‘fanzine’ The Golden Road. That interview is included in Jackson’s book Goin’ Down the Road: A Grateful Dead Travelling Companion. The following excerpt is most enlightening regarding “China Doll.”
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 don’t know. [Long pause] I guess I don’t really look at them that way. I don’t have a thoughtful, reasonable answer to that. Maybe if you gave me an example.
Jackson: Well, for instance, even though the circumstances of the characters’ lives in tunes like “Wharf Rat” and “China Doll” 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 “China Doll” means but I really wouldn’t want to get into it. “A pistol shot at five o’clock the bells of heaven ring.” Do you understand what that song’s about?
Jackson: I’ve always assumed it was about a literal or metaphorical suicide.
Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia – Photographer unknown
Hunter: Good, ’cause one of my original titles for it was “The Suicide Song.” It’s almost like a ghost voice: “Tell me what you done it for / No I won’t tell you a thing.” It’s a little dialogue like that. I don’t know about love being in there. I think it’s a terrifying song. And then it’s also got some affirmation of how it can be mended somehow. There’s a bit of metaphysical content in there which I kind of leave open, not that I subscribe or don’t 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 I’ve always sensed that there’s another character in there, literally or figuratively, who is empathizing with the main character and understanding why it’s happening and saying in effect, “It’s all right.”
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 – the metaphysics of my lyrics. You don’t want me to start passing judgments on this.
Jackson: I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.
Hunter: It’s fine up to this point, but I’d just as soon move away from the subject of lyric interpretation. All of a sudden my alarm started to go off because it’s almost as if I’m starting to set something very delicate into concrete. And then, once I’ve set it in concrete I realize “No, that’s not what it means at all. That’s not it anymore.” Because if it is that concrete, I might as well write books of philosophy. The poet is touching and questioning. It’s open to interpretation. I know to some degree what I intended there [in “China Doll”], or I know what some of the resonances in there seem to be to me, even if I can’t 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. 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 “had to” trust it. And I believe it’s part of why the song is beloved by Deadheads. 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. We’re 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 “It’s all right”. 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? 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. I could say it’s *clearly* about someone who’s committed suicide, and that the redemption in the song is significant both metaphysically and personally for a person close to the deceased – that they *need* it to be that way.
Robert Hunter in concert – photographer unknown
But the truth is that I’m filling in the blanks and informing his poetry with my own experience. It’s perfectly valid, but not exclusive. I’m experiencing my own emotional depths regarding my friend’s suicide more clearly through Hunter’s song, in the same way that the right glasses sharpen my otherwise nearsighted vision of the mountains around my home. 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. But, to my mind, “China Doll” represents an extremely sophisticated version of that dynamic. Whatever compelled his muse is properly hidden from Hunter’s song in this case, and so we all gain access to the vision wherever we might make our psychic home.
Thus, we don’t need to run through all of the possible interpretations. If you’re 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 – and in every case, the song still works.
These are a remarkable five short verses.
“If you can abide it, let the hurdy gurdy play…”
There are a few things about Garcia’s musical treatment of “China Doll” that amplify Hunter’s 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. It’s 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, I’m not the first person to articulate any of this – this is just my take on what’s rather obvious to any careful listener.
To illustrate, let’s get another take on the song: this time with a live, acoustic performance from Fall 1980. It’s hard to imagine a more delicate rendition…
Garcia is certainly doing the yeoman’s work in setting the tone with his vocal delivery, but the synthesized harpsichord, as in the studio version, truly lifts this song aloft. I know of no song quite like it! It’s not rock and roll, it’s not folk music – it’s “China Doll”, and that’s that. The harpsichord to me evokes spider webs and broken light on water, cracked glass and dandelion seeds on the wind. It is precisely the right instrument to raise the mournful rhythm of these few words.
The harpsichord, as well, is a great complement to Garcia’s 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! It’s around 4:00 in the acoustic version.
Is it a message about what’s 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 that’s exactly how I like it.
Coda
It’s worth mentioning in closing that, though “China Doll” 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 that’s worth knowing.
“Grateful Dead Rainforest Benefit Concert: Suzanne Vega with Jerry Garcia” Robert A. Minkin, September 24, 1988 – Grateful Dead Archive Online
“A 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, ‘What do you think we should do?’ I was nervous – I’d 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, ‘We just want you to be happy.” And all week long I used that as my guide and did only things that made me happy…”
It’s funny – the person who put this YouTube version together used one of those awful broken dolls surrounded by black for the visual background. I don’t get that feeling from Vega’s performance any more than from the Dead’s. 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 – 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)