Accidental Brexit allegories: Everything Everything's A Fever Dream
A Fever Dream was released last month to a moderate fanfare from the Everything Everything’s dedicated fanbase. It had already been made clear by the band’s frontman, Jonathan Higgs, that the album would tackle the state of politics in 2017, making reference to the election of Donald Trump and the EU referendum in the UK.
I love this album. I think it’s deep, nuanced, creative, interesting, and that it tries really hard to put public issues back into music. Bands have been doing this for decades, even in the charts, but it’s been relegated to the fringe in recent years. Tracks like Can’t Do and Desire will hopefully do what Distant Past and Regret did for EE’s last album, Get to Heaven: that people will be prepared to buy it on the strength of the singles. While it’s likely that many of Everything Everything’s listeners already agree with what the band has to say, it’s an otherwise provocative and sometimes otherworldly listen. This album is a gem, and it deserves every ounce of attention. It provides an intense and descriptive recount of the past two years of doom and gloom, in very good time indeed. And it sounds great live too.
While the album has already been dissected with this in mind, I believe it is worth diving deeper to examine the specific allegories at play in A Fever Dream and what purpose they might serve. In other words, fair enough – the band is trying to talk about politics, just like they were, perhaps less overtly, on their last album, Get To Heaven. But what’s actually interesting is what they’re trying to say about politics. Any budding songwriter can write a song about how annoying Trump is – heck, Passenger went and did it, and who still listens to Passenger? Music, at least lyrically speaking, has more to say when it delves beyond the surface level, and that is exactly what A Fever Dream appears to do.
Higgs has spoken in interviews about how the album is an overarching comment about his experience of depression, which was linked to the increasing toxicity of the political sphere and the world at large. However, I wish to analyse the album purely as a political piece, and look at how it chronicles certain events that have happened in the past year, as well as more general trends. I believe that, while this is only one interpretation of the album, it is valuable as an example of how some artists genuinely put thought into how their work might be interpreted. Note that this isn’t exactly the same as the band’s intended interpretation, some of which is made clear here. With that in mind: let’s listen to track one.
It has already been outlined multiple times how the name of this song is a reference to the event of the same name committed by Adolf Hitler and his political allies, when his adversaries within Nazi Germany were purged. The repetition of the line “it’s coming” within the song and the motif “shame about your neighbourhood” point to an influential, potentially politically harmful event, and the build on the track makes it seem as though the Night of The Long Knives eventually “comes” at the end.
Given the context and themes of the album, it could be inferred that this Night is the night of the EU referendum, or the night of Trump’s election – both nights where the result became steadily more clear as the night rolled on, gradually building in intensity. Both times, the voters were disparaged in liberal media for the choice they’d made, perhaps offering another angle to “shame about your neighbourhood”. Equally, minorities were discriminated against in the wake of both events; perhaps the neighbourhood suffers in a similar way to Hitler’s enemies, when they were purged. Either way, this track is a clear introduction to the events that triggered the political misfortune that this album wishes to spell out. It also features the refrain “I’ve been dying all my life”. While this is clearly a nod to Higgs’ existential musings present across all four albums, it could also represent how this political misfortune is consistently ongoing, and how we never seem to learn from our errors.
Given the context and themes of the album, it could be inferred that this Night is the night of the EU referendum, or the night of Trump’s election – both nights where the result became steadily more clear as the night rolled on, gradually building in intensity. Both times, the voters were disparaged in liberal media for the choice they’d made, perhaps offering another angle to “shame about your neighbourhood”. Equally, minorities were discriminated against in the wake of both events; perhaps the neighbourhood suffers in a similar way to Hitler’s enemies, when they were purged. Either way, this track is a clear introduction to the events that triggered the political misfortune that this album wishes to spell out. It also features the refrain “I’ve been dying all my life”. While this is clearly a nod to Higgs’ existential musings present across all four albums, it could also represent how this political misfortune is consistently ongoing, and how we never seem to learn from our errors.
The second track, Can’t Do, has to some extent gone without being extensively analysed, perhaps because it appears that its meaning is obvious: the speaker has something they wish to be able to do, but cannot accomplish; it speaks to all of us, and the difference between our aspirations, what the people around us expect of us, and what we are nominally capable of. Again, this track has sprinklings of Higgs’ doubt, but it could also take on a deeper meaning. Within the track, there appear to be three distinct voices: the speaker, who has objectives that he worries he cannot achieve, the voice through the phone, urging him on, and the impersonal ‘you’ – “I can’t do the thing you want”. The speaker appears not to truly acknowledge his limitations, however, as he continues to suggest trying again, adamant that it is up to him.
The line “that was the horror/future on the phone, he said
it’s up to me, I’ve got to try it again, I’ve got to figure it out”. This seems
to point to a disembodied soul proclaiming that something, perhaps metaphysical
in nature, must be achieved. From a
political point of view, this could be an ideology, specifically, populist
ideology: the populist leader offers something to the people, they vote them in
to acquire the promise, and then the promise proves untenable, and the populist
laments his promise. Perhaps, then, the song is a critique of populism, and the
traits it prizes in its leaders, which leads to their downfall.
Everything Everything have already described how this song is about how someone can become so determined to get something (“I want this planet and I want it now”), that they can be blinded by “desire” and end up incapable of seeing anything else (“I can’t stop now”).
To take this a step further and pull it into my grandiose political metaphor, it could be argued that the people specifically desiring on this track are those who voted for populism, saw it assume power, and are now waiting for it to take effect. Prior the vote, one such person might opine that “I am a pencil pusher with the pencil pusher blues, what the hell do I have left to lose” – thereby enabling them to vote for what they think will bring them the best outcome above all else. By the second verse this is swapped for “I’m just a knuckle dragger with a knuckle dragger grin, it took my mind and left a hollow twin” – perhaps commenting that populist politics can dumb down debate and leave people expecting less from politics, but also causing them to be more reactionary.
The middle 8, featuring the refrain “can’t you see that I am empty/this is all that I see clearly” further emphasises that the voters have been turned almost to mindless husks by their populist leaders, and they are capable of little more than watching for what they wished for to appear – but what if it doesn’t? We have to wait for track 6 for that one.
To take this a step further and pull it into my grandiose political metaphor, it could be argued that the people specifically desiring on this track are those who voted for populism, saw it assume power, and are now waiting for it to take effect. Prior the vote, one such person might opine that “I am a pencil pusher with the pencil pusher blues, what the hell do I have left to lose” – thereby enabling them to vote for what they think will bring them the best outcome above all else. By the second verse this is swapped for “I’m just a knuckle dragger with a knuckle dragger grin, it took my mind and left a hollow twin” – perhaps commenting that populist politics can dumb down debate and leave people expecting less from politics, but also causing them to be more reactionary.
The middle 8, featuring the refrain “can’t you see that I am empty/this is all that I see clearly” further emphasises that the voters have been turned almost to mindless husks by their populist leaders, and they are capable of little more than watching for what they wished for to appear – but what if it doesn’t? We have to wait for track 6 for that one.
With its reference to the “wrinkled little boxing glove”, it has been made adamantly clear that Big Game is about Donald Trump. It attacks him for being someone that “even children” can see through, someone who is “ridiculous” and unremarkable. This track appears to highlight how populist leaders are incapable, on a level with those who “squat in the basement”, that they are “witless and rank”. It also warms that eventually “someone’s gonna prick that bovine balloon … someone’s gonna tell you “no you can’t””. This seems to signpost that, in reference to Desire, it will eventually be revealed that populists cannot give their followers that which they desire – and that the leaders will explode as a result, perhaps as Farage did in his retirement from frontline politics last year.
Good
Shot, Good Soldier
This track appears to focus on the vital role that power politics plays in our society, and how there is such a stark line between success & being lauded (“If I’m right then light my way”) and failure & being vilified (“If I’m wrong then strike me down”), using biblical imagery to further emphasise that this is a very powerful issue. It also tries to show that we often use trivialities in order to achieve our goals, including doing “the golf clap for all the right people” and collecting “all of these papers and put(ting) them in one place”*. Ultimately, these aims come to nothing in the context of the great power brokers, presidents and kings, who decide who’s a “policeman” and who’s a “criminal”. This ultimately fractures society, as people seek to “tell me the difference”, with the question “can you see it through all our eyes?” looking to affirm that there really isn’t that much difference between those that lead us and those that simply follow.
*this bit could also be seen as a trivialisation of the voting process.
So, what happens when the voters realise that their populist leaders are struggling to give them what they desire? Perhaps they shout, with Michael Gove in mind, “We’re sick of experts!” Evidence ceases to be as powerful, and people are left feeling that they “don’t need to run the numbers”. This song is again ripe with anti-establishment sentiment from those who feel left behind, for example in the line “the corridors of power are echoing with something for everyone / nothing there for you and there’s nothing there for me”. The disenfranchisement is again offered up when, in response to the analogy that we cannot “have our cake and eat it too” re. Brexit, the speaker says “well I don’t want your cake – I never ate it anyway”. This is similar to the “sick of experts” line in that the speaker simply ignores the opposing line or argument, claiming they are not looking for cake. They are so sure that they “can feel it”, that which they believe in, that they refuse alternative viewpoints.
The track ends by referencing Desire once more, stating that “I wait, and I wait, and I wait, and it never comes” – the speaker has been waiting a long while for change to come, yet they still believe in their cause. It does not appear that Higgs wishes to stigmatize Brexiteers or Trump Voters here; it again seems that they have been cheated by the system and are now to some extent blind by fury – fury already laid out by the previous track.
This track offers some potentially straightforward commentary on how some on the right perceive immigrants in society (“there’s somebody washing the car and there’s somebody watching the children, but they’re nothing like you and me”). This rhetoric appears to alienate whomever the speaker is talking to throughout the song, as demonstrated by the line “what do you mean you don’t know me?” and the closer of “oh, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it”. This track appears to demonstrate how anti-immigrant rhetoric can often appear innocent, both to the reader/listener and, more importantly, the speaker – it can become normalised and also integrated. The song, ostensibly an appeal to a lost partner, is overshadowed by the way it describes the ‘other’. The political goals of the speaker have overtaken what was once his life. This moribund image helps set the tone for the next song.
This beginning of this track is a veritable menagerie of signposts to earlier points in the album:
“I hate the neighbours, they hate me too / the fear and the fury makes me feel good”.
“Neighbours” alludes to both the previous track and similar motifs in Night of The Long Knives. Meanwhile, “the fear and the fury” connect to both the anger of Good Shot, Good Soldier and the fear of Desire in the face of a society that remains unchanged.
“I hate the neighbours, they hate me too / the fear and the fury makes me feel good”.
“Neighbours” alludes to both the previous track and similar motifs in Night of The Long Knives. Meanwhile, “the fear and the fury” connect to both the anger of Good Shot, Good Soldier and the fear of Desire in the face of a society that remains unchanged.
While this track appears to return to the existentialism
that concerns Higgs in relation to the current state of affairs, it also
appears to emphasise how even the most ardent followers of populism are now in
confusion; someone who hates the neighbours is now resorting to claiming that “it’s
only a dream” and asking themselves “how did we get here?”
The refrain (“be honest, you want it”) seems to come from a
different angle, perhaps Higgs’ own – asking the voters to be honest with
themselves and accept that they asked to be put in this situation, which is the
“fever dream” at hand. This is emphasised by the repetition on this track,
perhaps intended to point out that the feverish events are coming at us from
every angle and appear unending. This is juxtaposed to the lilting classical
motif that opens the track – a sample from Loquebanteur
Variis Linguis, recorded at Wellington College, Oxford in 1992; perhaps
intended to reference a happier time (the classical era, not 1992).
It could be argued that A
Fever Dream is intended as a summary of events prior to that point in the
album. The poor state of debate, the lofty goals of populism, and the
alienation of the public all result in a fever dream for anyone watching. Therefore,
it might be that the six prior tracks actually answer the question of “how did
we get here?” It remains to be seen, however, if the remaining tracks will
answer “how do we leave?”
This track, however, offers absolutely no insights as to how we might leave the situation in which we find ourselves. Instead, it aims to show two incredibly divided sides, failing to compromise. The opposition are depicted as dancing around “with your blackface on”, while the speaker admits that “we all make a vacuum for this”, going on to accept that “we didn’t think that it would happen and we never will”, pointing out that “the establishment” both didn’t see the election of Trump coming, and then refused to come to terms with the result after the fact. Equally present is a criticism of the alt-right, asking to “shave my head and call me monkey / let me see you with the caps lock on”. Higgs has stated that this track is about his preparation to isolate himself from two sides, “all I learned from this was how much I can hate the state we’re in” – and that the middle class faces criticism for this choice, even when the surrounding environment is so toxic. So, the question of how to leave the fever dream remains unanswered.
This track only has two recurring lines: “Is there something wrong with all this? / Or is there something wrong with me?” It expresses the kind of doubt that we all face at some point – is the world at our back, or is it our own fault for not being more compatible? The answer to this seems to be that it might often seem that we are in a bad spot, but that it’s down to us to make the best of it, which seems to be the thinking behind the final track:
Higgs says he used the metaphor of the “white whale” on this track because he wanted to write a love song everyone could relate to. Beyond that, he discusses how “my mind is on the bad things” – how it is possible to be, perhaps, too concerned with the struggles of modern life, and how others may have their mind on the “good things”, because there are positives to living in 2017. With this the band recites the ongoing refrain: “never tell me that we can’t go further”, a line that continues until the end, even when the rest of the song has faded out into nothing. Higgs wanted to stress that we can always do better than this, that the political events that have shaken the last two years are not the end of everything (everything), but rather that we ought to push forward with hope and determination, for a tomorrow that we might be able to agree is in a better state – because “I want us to be okay”.
Conclusion
I love this album. I think it’s deep, nuanced, creative, interesting, and that it tries really hard to put public issues back into music. Bands have been doing this for decades, even in the charts, but it’s been relegated to the fringe in recent years. Tracks like Can’t Do and Desire will hopefully do what Distant Past and Regret did for EE’s last album, Get to Heaven: that people will be prepared to buy it on the strength of the singles. While it’s likely that many of Everything Everything’s listeners already agree with what the band has to say, it’s an otherwise provocative and sometimes otherworldly listen. This album is a gem, and it deserves every ounce of attention. It provides an intense and descriptive recount of the past two years of doom and gloom, in very good time indeed. And it sounds great live too.
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