4 January 2008
Bitter Boy
There was a boy, a bitter boy,
Whose golden heart I saw gleaming.
I thought I'd win the heart within,
But now I know that I was dreaming.
But I will rise, and I will sing,
Until I know I can't conceal it.
Because I hold the saddest song,
I wish to God I cannot feel it.
And then the boy, the bitter boy,
He came to me for rest and healing.
He reached in his chest, deep in his breast,
Held out the heart for me still gleaming.
But I will rise, and I will sing,
Until I know I can't conceal it.
Because I hold the saddest song,
I wish to God I cannot feel it.
And then the boy, me and the boy,
We walked for miles through stormy weather.
And hand in hand, we roamed the land,
And held the gleaming heart together.
But I will rise, and I will sing,
Until I know I can't conceal it.
Because I hold the saddest song,
I wish to God I cannot feel it.
Then the boy, the bitter boy,
He came to take the gleaming treasure.
He reached in my chest, deep in my breast,
And took the gleaming heart forever.
But I will rise, and I will sing,
Until the day I can't conceal it.
And then I'll sing the saddest song,
And wish to God you cannot hear it.
Oh, then I'll sing the saddest song,
I wish to God you cannot hear it.
Watch Kate Rusby sing Bitter Boy at the Cambridge Folk Festival on YouTube.
I was flicking through channels a few months ago and came across a broadcast showing the highlights of the 2007 Cambridge Folk Festival, and just as I was about to switch channels, they announced that Kate Rusby would be singing, so I stopped, put the remote down, and watched.
Then, as soon as the song (and the programme, for it was the last song shown), I got up, went to my computer and searched for the song - Bitter Boy - online.
Unfortunately, my usual music finding choice of Napster let me down on this occasion, but YouTube provided where Napster failed, and let me listen to the song a few more times, and make sense of the expressions on the faces of the performers.
I knew enough about Kate Rusby to know that she performed with her husband, John McCusker, but what I didn't know was that they'd since divorced and the truly bittersweet beauty of the song was amplified.
It's a sad fact of life that relationships end, and when they do, they often don't end neatly. It's not like cutting a ribbon - and nor should it be.
I used to say that I didn't want to get married because that would only add to the pain and suffering when the relationship finally came to an end. "It's painful enough, why get lawyers involved" I'd say. I think I believed it too.
When I was a little girl, I was never one of these girls who imagined her perfect wedding, but I just presumed that at some point I'd meet someone I liked, loved and wanted to spend my life with, and that we'd get married and have children, and follow the conventional path to old age, grandchildren and so on.
Then things changed. My parents separated and got divorced, rocking the foundations of my assumptions about life, and pulling the rug of happy childhood memories out from under my feet. Then, at 22, I was diagnosed with a genetic condition with a 50% likelihood of passing it on to any children.
The combination of things resulted in a serious crack in my self esteem - how on earth could I, certified imperfect and broken, ever hope to have a lasting relationship, and what was the point of getting married anyway, when it was going to have to end - if not because of any fault of mine, but to give my partner the chance to have biological children of his own with someone who wasn't going to (potentially) cause them to be as broken as I was.
The cruel tricks of school bullies had also left me with a deep distrust of any professed attraction to me, and the majority of my early relationships (such as they were) were carried out more in a sense of curiosity about what the fuss was all about rather than genuine passion or attraction.
Then, against all the odds, I fell in love at first sight.
To my amazement, there seemed to be reciprocation, but things were, as they say, complicated.
I made my choice - him - and broke someone's heart in the process. His choice was made for him and rather than being his first choice, I was the one who was there - real - and, in my head, unable to compete with the fantasy that could never be brought to earth by the vagaries of domesticity and familiarity.
Things progressed, but no matter what happened, I was just waiting for the day when it would end - none of which prepared me for when it actually happened, or for what happened in the aftermath.
There was a boy, a bitter boy,
Whose golden hair I saw gleaming.
I thought I'd won the heart within,
But now I know that I was dreaming.
But I did rise, and I did sing,
Although it burned me to conceal it.
Because, I held the saddest song,
and wished to God, I could not feel it.
Some songs are just never meant to be sung.
Aah jeez. Kate does it so very well. There are many songs of hers that reduce me to a teary mess. Others though, lift my heart.
All through my break up with S, (we were together 14 years) I listened to Kate's album - The Girl Who Couldn't Fly. S and I remain close friends; and this album will always represent our ending. Doesn't stop me listening and enjoying it though.
Soon after we split I was at the Larmer Tree Festival and saw Kate playing there.
This track was especially meaningful,and in a small way helped me move on. http://youtube.com/watch?v=P9xMMlJKxcs
Wishing you happiness.
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