“Better” by The Moving Stills makes poetry out of everyday conversation.
It’s not until the last line that they sing, “I can’t wait to tell my friends” but the whole song feels like an excited announcement. Big news! “It’s developing, she’s so sweet,” and my favorite, “She’s in Melbourne but she’ll be back next week.” These lyrics make music out of the natural rhythm of words; they sound directly transcribed from a real conversation. They also show where the speaker’s mind is: all he can think about is next week, and the person he loves being back in town. Saying that is even more important to him than making a perfect rhyme.
The drums on this song are driving but sound as if they dissolve on impact, like stomping on a sand dune. Guitars clang and chime; something synthetic rises in big fuzzy swells on the chorus. The distorted and mechanical textures of these sounds contrast with the voices, which are warmer and coarser. It’s like driftwood against sheet metal in the sun.
The instrumental elements sharpen and intensify the lyrics. The chorus observes, “It’s nice, to have something in your life / that keeps you interested and it keeps you doing better.” The music translates “It’s nice” to “It makes me wanna rock and roll.” The part of the feeling that is too strong for words finds expression in sound. It’s contentment in overdrive.
It’s not just the sonic textures that complicate the sweetness of the words; there’s story built into the composition. The vocal melody is a little melancholy, even when the words tell us “It’s nice, to have someone in your life, / that when they go you miss them but when they come home it’s better.” Our dude probably wishes the girl was with him, instead of in Melbourne. But sometimes the thing that makes you sad is better, because it’s good for the person you love.
The words are sunny; the way they are sung helps put the shadows in the picture.
There are also shadows in the lyrics themselves. Even the title: “Better” has, as its shadow, whatever things were like before. Lonely, or anxiously uncertain. One might say, worse. The lines “We stuck together / things went up from there” tell us that sticking together wasn’t a certainty. It was a choice. These shadows don’t add darkness, but they do add depth.
The relationship in this song is so powerful that it turns ordinary language into poetry, conversation into rock and roll. The song doesn’t rock so hard just for the sake of rocking hard; it rocks because the emotions involved demand more energetic expression than words can carry.
This isn’t a story that would make the news: two people figure out how to be together, and it goes well. But that’s the case with a lot of rock and roll; it recognizes the bright lights and deep shadows in ordinary days. Early in this song, the lovers listen to “Zeppelin in the Walkman” – the triumphant soundtrack turns an aimless drive into an adventure. Or maybe the music recognizes that the aim of the drive is being together, and that that adventure merits power chords.
