What The Water Gave Me

When I first listened to this Florence and the Machine song, from Ceremonials (2011), the band's second studio album, I didn't immediately think of Kahlo's eponymous painting. I thought of Virginia Woolf. I know quite a bit about Woolf and have read and admired most of what she wrote, so it's no wonder it rang a bell.

What I couldn't make sense of at a second hearing I quickly researched, and it finally dawned on me that the song was far more complex than it appeared at first. I'm going to try and interpret the song in terms of imagery, and link it with its known sources and more. Everything I'll write pertains to my opinion, with which you're more than welcome to disagree and to which you can add your pinch of salt.

I hadn't shot wildly in the dark with Woolf and Kahlo. Here's what Florence Welch had to say about the song in an interview:

'"It's a song for the water, because in music and art what I'm really interested in are the things that are overwhelming," Welch said. "The ocean seems to me to be nature's great overwhelmer. When I was writing this song I was thinking a lot about all those people who've lost their lives in vain attempts to save their loved ones from drowning. It's about water in all forms and all bodies. It's about a lot of things; Virginia Woolf creeps into it, and of course Frieda (sic) Kahlo, whose painfully beautiful painting gave me the title."'

Here's a good quality version of Frida Kahlo's painting Welch is referring to.

Of course, death by drowning is a topos in all the arts (think of this this, this and that), so there's nothing new there. Nonetheless, it remains a powerful theme which Welch explores with a lot of insights and weaves it with the motifs of water, life and time.

I'll try and construct a(n almost) line-by-line analysis, so it will look pretty deconstructed...please bear with me. Each comment starts on the same line as the line it reflects on. (N.B. the lyrics can be had in a regular format from a link at the end of this article.)

Time it took us To where the water was That's what the water gave me And time goes quicker Between the two of us Oh, my love, don't forsake me Take what the water gave me Lay me down Let the only sound Be the overflow Pockets full of stones Lay me down Let the only sound Be the overflow And oh, poor Atlas The world's a beast of a burden You've been holding on a long time And all this longing And the ships are left to rust That's what the water gave us So lay me down Let the only sound Be the overflow Pockets full of stones Lay me down Let the only sound Be the overflow 'Cause they took your loved ones But returned them in exchange for you But would you have it any other way? Would you have it any other way? You could have it any other way 'Cause she's a cruel mistress And the bargain must be made But oh, my love, don't forget me When I let the water take me So, lay me down Let the only sound Be the over flow Pockets full of stones Lay me down Let the only sound Be the overflow (x2)

Water is here seen as the end of everything yet water gives much in its present state. We don't know yet what it is. Love seems to connect this “us” in the first line. Time is important, but it's both short (first line) and long. Like water, it's ambivalent (both benevolent and malevolent). It echoes very strongly with her last letter to her husband: “Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.” Water is still the source of a great gift, like something you'd pass on when you're gone Take a moment to read Michael Cunningham's beautiful prologue to his book The Hours. The pockets full of stone will thus make sense. As you can read at the end of the extract to Cunningham's prologue, sounds have a very important place, as in a lot of Woolf's writings (one example, read The Waves) The image of Atlas carrying a great burden but having to endure it is much reminiscent of Woolf who had to bear a great burden for a very long time, which is made poignantly clear in her lesser-known last letter to her sister before committing suicide:“Dearest, You can’t think how I loved your letter. But I feel I have gone too far this time to come back again. I am certain now that I am going mad again. It is just as it was the first time, I am always hearing voices, and I shan’t get over it now. All I want to say is that Leonard has been so astonishingly good, every day, always; I can’t imagine that anyone could have done more for me than he has. We have been perfectly happy until these last few weeks, when this horror began. Will you assure him of this? I feel he has so much to do that he will go on, better without me, and you will help him. I can hardly think clearly anymore. If I could I would tell you what you and the children have meant to me. I think you know. I have fought against it, but I can’t any longer. Virginia.” By the roundabout way, Atlas was made to carry the celestial spheres (i.e. the sky), not the Earth or the globe as commonly thought, on his shoulders. Initially I thought of Helen and the Greek fleet, but then I thought of Iphigenia. Made much more sense considering the ships left to rust could be the ones at Aulis because of unfavourable winds. Iphigenia is the daughter of Agamemnon who agrees to sacrifice her to gain back the favours of Artemis whom he has crossed – by the way I'm taking my reference from Euripides' Iphigenia in Aulis – but when it becomes clear to her that she'll be sacrificed and not married to Achilles as she was first led to believe, she decides to let her be led to the sacrificial altar willingly – it's a gut-wrenching moment in the play, forcing the admiration of many – in order to keep her honour intact. If we are left to think of Iphigenia accepting her fate, it makes a lot of sense to hear her ask to be laid down. Aulis is a port, so the overflow could be the flow and ebb of the sea. She doesn't commit suicide, but her death is, like Woolf's, connected to water. This could be said to Agamemnon, but it could also be said of many parents who have lost a son to war, or it could be said to someone who has sacrificed him/herself for the benefit of a majority, as in the example of Iphigenia. This 'she' could very well be Fate (often personified as a woman, and remember the old saying: “Fate is a cruel mistress”) with which bargains must be made, or sacrifices – but as in any shipwreck, some things can be salvaged. What the water taketh away, the water bringeth back. Complete surrender to the water, hence back to Woolfian motif. She 'lets' the water take her, having regained some control over her death. If you look closely at Kahlo's painting, you'll see that if the water reaches the overflow, it will submerge everything, even herself. The tram which knocked her down and broke her pelvis could have left her paralysed from the waist down, and her ability to walk freely would have been taken away from her. It left her in constant pain throughout her life, and the “lay me down” could be construed to refer to Kahlo's possible suicide (read Note 1 of this blog post which summarises the most contentious points).

In a nutshell, I was amazed to realise that this song deals with death and suicide in a subtle, literary way. The various 'surrenders' to water, the reference to the burden one has to bear, sometimes alleviated by time and water itself, will be submerged, overwhelmed by Fate, Life, Time – whatever name you want to give this driving force that sometimes drowns people metaphorically, psychologically, crushes their destiny underfoot. There is an element of resignation and acceptance on the narrator's part, which the imperative form also imparts on the person addressed (I / two of us / my love) some form of acceptance and resignation.

What Welch says in the interview, namely “ I was thinking a lot about all those people who've lost their lives in vain attempts to save their loved ones from drowning”, is to be taken both literally and figuratively: drowning is death by being submerged by a body of water, but also when your sorrows, your problems, your demons drown you. So it's not entirely Water specifically with which one fights, but Time, Life and Fate too. Bear in mind the way these are described as flowing, or seen like a an irresistible current against which one can't fight.

Finally, I have to say that I've always liked Florence and the Machine a lot, but I do even more so now. It's a great song with powerful, thought-out lyrics and great fitting orchestration (I wish I were better versed in music to be able to connect the instruments and the lyrics/sources).

I took the lyrics off Google Play Music. Follow the links to access the sources.