Rick: I spent the November week leading up to writing and recording “Carrie and Pierre” saddled with the H1N1 flu, living in quarantine so as to not pass it along to anyone else. By the weekend the monotony of the same four walls was starting to wear on me, and the NPR challenge was just the tonic I needed.The rules were such that you had to use at least one of the following words: firecracker, dog, NPR, lampshade, or Japan. Officially, I used “dog” in the lyric, but all of the words are actually in there along the left edge… hopefully this at least proved that I wrote the lyrics on demand (and confirms that I have read too much Douglas Hofstadter in my life). We were fortunate enough for it to end up in the first batch of songs posted, but the whole collection of submitted songs is at this link.

Having the constraint was good for me, as lyrics don’t come to me as quickly as they do for Steve. I found that it forced me to focus. As Steve mentions, the basis of the song was loosely derived from a linear combination of a few actual people I’ve known. It was right in the throes of reunion season, so that kind of thing was rattling around in my head a lot.

The general idea is that the speaker runs into someone that they’d once been together with, quite some time earlier. I took pains to stay gender-neutral. That person had seemed like they’d had a lot of “potential” way back when, but at this point didn’t have grandiose claims to fame, a fabulous title, or a laundry list of accomplishments – but they had arrived at a place in life that was more of a domestic scene – family-oriented, dealing with life’s typical difficulties.

I’ve seen people look down on that kind of existence as if it’s some sort of cop-out. Those are the ones doing the “criticizing” in the song. Personally, I think that it’s perfectly normal for someone to be contented and happy in that state (“all you wanted was this”). That said, I imagined that the person described in the song might have similar doubts themselves, and might have unwisely been looking to rekindle something with the speaker as a reaction to those doubts (“nothing good can come from wrestling with your ghost”).

Carrie and Pierre aren’t specifically anyone…”Carrie” came from the name of the woman who runs the NPR blog (Carrie Brownstein), and “Pierre” was in my head because I’d been listening to a lot of Pierre Bensusan’s music that week. As Steve surmised, in my mind they’re a slightly older couple that has been living the existence of house, kids, dog, etc. The speaker in the song says “never thought they would fade away,” but I left it open as to whether or not the listener would take that as a statement that they had already faded, or as a statement that the speaker recognizes that they are in fact living a life of bliss, and really won’t fade away.

Steve: Rick and I most often collaborate according to the old words-‘n’-music division of labor, but sometimes things come more or less wholly from one or the other of us. This might be the song in the Casual Observer catalog I had the least to do with, my contributions being restricted to a few minor suggestions which, to my recollection, Rick mostly (and correctly) disregarded. As the originator of many of the lyrics, I get to explain to Rick what it was I was thinking at the time, and correct his initial impression of my meaning if it varies from what was intended — not that what I intended matters so much, given that the listener’s interpretation is just as valid as the author’s intention. In this case, I must admit that I was partially mistaken; I correctly assumed, even knowing the strictures under which the song was written (as Rick explained above), that the song was based upon an individual familiar to me, but I guessed the wrong person. And yet, as I said, I was not wrong.

The story told in the song does mirror my own feelings in a powerful way: making your living as an artist (be it as a writer, musician, poet, painter, etc) is difficult and rarely rewarding in any but the spiritual sense, and yet when some member of our fraternity drops out to get a “real” job, I mourn for them just as if they had died, and perhaps some part of them did. I judge no one (as the song says that we should not), and yet, from my vantage point on the outside, it always seems like a surrender.

The one thing I’m never sure about is where Carrie and Pierre figure. Who are they? Why does the person to whom the song is addressed need to ask them? When Rick first posted this song to NPR, they conflated the group name and the title so that it was credited to “Casual Pierre.” Naturally, the non-existent band got some positive comments. “Who is this Casual Pierre, and where can I hear more of him?” (The correct answers are, variously, us, here, and nowhere.) Sometimes I ask myself if “Go and ask Casual Pierre” would be less of a non-sequitur, but I don’t think so. Listening to the song again as I write these notes, I think the lyrics actually provide an answer: Carrie and Pierre have preceded the recipient of this song’s lecture into a safe, staid existence — they’re the ones with the three children and the dog — and if they’re talking, they can tell us just what they might have lost in making the change.

Recorded in Dec 2009, sequestered in Rick’s Home Studio

Rick: Acoustic and electric guitars, keyboards, drum programming, vocals

Due to the circumstances (my being sick and in isolation, Steve being on deadline for a project for Baseball Prospectus, and it needing to be done in a hurry), the recording process was a solo effort. I did manage to get a draft recording emailed over to Steve to solicit some feedback, and he helped me through a spot or two in the lyrics that had me stuck.

The acoustic guitar and vocals were actually recorded using the on-board mics on the multi-tracker (a Zoom R16, for those who are curious). Because I was still feeling miserable, I could only manage a handful of takes for the vocals before I started losing my voice. The drum track and bass line were added in software after the fact.

For the final version posted here, I didn’t add anything to the track beyond what was in the copy submitted to NPR, but I did go back and remove the harmony in a couple of places, adjust some levels, and edit out a couple of clicks and pops – stuff that I didn’t catch in my haste to get it sent in before the deadline.

Carrie and Pierre

Fifteen years since then
I still don’t understand how you
Replaced the memories of
Everyone I knew
Circumstances don’t
Remain the same
Although that’s no excuse
Contemplation might be slowly
Killing you

Do you know where you are today?
Of course you do…
Go and ask Carrie and Pierre
Never thought that they would fade away
Please say I’m wrong
Reaching for a change that isn’t there

Everybody used to
Recognize the potential in your eyes
Looking backwards who’s to say it wasn’t true
And you know by now
Most of them would plainly criticize
Protesting that you had much more to do

Do you know what you’ve left behind?
Of course you do…
Go and ask Carrie and Pierre
Never meant to be unkind
Promises they made
Reaching for a change that isn’t there

Spending years ignorant of bliss
Happy home, three children, and a dog
All you wanted was this

Don’t they see how fighting
Entropy
Just wears you down so much?
Acclimating to the one who loves you most
Perhaps I helped you there, but
Anyway, it’s better not to judge
Nothing good can come of wrestling with your ghost