My 36th Favorite Song of All-Time

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…and my 36th favorite song of all-time is:

“When I Fall” by Barenaked Ladies

BNL have a very unfounded reputation as solely a goofy, jokey band.  And they DO have some funny, cute songs.  But the lion’s share of their material is very contemplative, dare I say important music.  And while I’m sure you’re all sick of me prattling on about how amazing certain lyrics are, you really do have to take a look at what Ed Robertson (one of the band’s two lead singers and lyricists, until Steven Page left the band in 2009.  Robertson wrote and sings “When I Fall”) does in this song.

“When I Fall” is a song about a window-washer on a scaffolding on a sky-scraper who is contemplating suicide.  The song is touching and bitterly sad, but also chock-a-block full of some lines that would make a Yale literature professor stop and take notice.  Note, for instance, how the window washer says “my hands clench the squeegee: my secular rosary”….I mean holy shit.  Or how about when he claims the businessmen in the boardroom are only frightened to jump “in case they survive”.  And then there’s this whole stanza, which has always blown me away and you could write a whole term paper on (the mirror is the glass of the window):  “Look straight in the mirror.  Watch it come clearer. I look like a painter, behind all the grease. The painting’s creating, and I’m just erasing.  A crystal-clear canvas is my masterpiece.”  Oh, and if you’re not a science whiz, the line “it’s nine-point-eight straight down” refers to terminal velocity (9.8 miles per hour squared is how fast objects fall).  The version I’ve included below is the live version I first heard, from the band’s live album, which is still my favorite version:

I look straight in the window,
try not to look below.
Pretend I’m not up here,
or try counting sheep.
But the sheep seem to shower
off this office tower.
It’s nine-point-eight straight down.
I can’t stop my knees

I wish I could fly
from this building
from this wall.
And if I should try
would you catch me if I fall?

My hands clench the squeegee,
my secular rosary.
Hang on to your wallet,
hang on to your rings.
Can’t look below me,
or something might throw me.
Curse at the windstorms that October brings.
I look in the boardroom;
a modern Pharaoh’s tomb.
I’d gladly swap places, if they care to dive.
They’re lined up at the window,
peer down into limbo.
They’re frightened of jumping,
in case they survive
I wish I could step from this scaffold
onto soft green pastures, shopping malls, or bed
with my family and my pastor and my grandfather who’s dead.
Look straight in the mirror,
watch it come clearer.
I look like a painter, behind all the grease.
The paintings creating, and I’m just erasing.
A crystal-clear canvas is my masterpiece.