As a whole, Interpol’s 2002 debut album “Turn on the Bright Lights” is gloomy. It heavily features themes of despair, loss, regret, and interpersonal problems. “Leif Erikson” (LE), the eleventh and final song, is no exception. Incorporating many of these themes, the song serves as an appropriate climax for a dismal narrative. There are many possible interpretations of LE, usually pertaining to a failing relationship, which are backed by strong lyrical evidence. In particular, LE and Edith Wharton’s “Ethan Frome” (EF) bear striking resemblance.
A surface-level interpretation of LE yields an image of a declining relationship between Paul Banks (Interpol’s lead vocalist) and a woman, never named. She clearly has a view of what Banks should be doing and makes no qualms about communicating it. The woman describes Banks as being enthralled by small details, implying his inability to make big decisions, and calls him prey. She advises Banks to fulfill his sentimentality and emotional needs with children, encouraging him to learn “her way” and conform to her demands.
Banks makes no effort to portray the relationship as anything but frayed and imbalanced. He admits he keeps secrets from her: “But she doesn’t know that I left my urge in the icebox.” This undoubtedly refers to his libidinal attraction; his urge to be with her is just alcohol, for only then can he stomach her. Banks questions why he needs to take her seriously: “If your life is such a big joke, why should I care?” He hints that his partner respects neither his boundaries nor his time; even though the “clock is set for nine,” he knows that she will make it eight if it suits her better. Throughout the song, Banks’ vocal delivery comes across as weary, almost resigned to his fate.
Banks begins to cave. He admits it might be time for him to learn her way, and, despite everything, pictures them together. Banks returns to being invested in her, saying that he would save her with his lifeboat if she really wanted him to. At the song’s climax, highlighted by Banks’ anguished tone, he finally admits it’s difficult to change so much, comparing it to learning a new language, but resigns himself to try. This new sense of urgency stands in contrast to the beginning of LE, where Banks was steady and less emotional. The last two verses of LE repeat her praise of him in a subservient, almost reverent manner: “My love’s subliminal.” It is a haunting jolt of an ending which completes the album, leaving one waiting anxiously in the dark for what comes next.
Musically, the brooding, deep bass guitar gives the song an ominous feel, with a sense of dread under the surface. The guitar is akin to the “Jaws” theme, a slow and deliberate lick designed to disturb. The following organ scales bring on a sense of regret, turmoil, and wintry cold. The bridge gets away from the guttural guitar, substituting it for a high-pitched and desperate guitar riff of torment. Then, the bubble breaks, and the pent up energy is forcefully released. Subsequently, the guitar slips back down to its deeper tones, and Banks assumes the lead role again. Throughout LE, the instruments take the backseat to the vocals, giving a sense of the emotional setting to complement the mastery of Banks’ performance.
The titular Ethan Frome in Wharton’s novel is a crippled woodsman living in Starkfield, Mass., who meets the unnamed narrator of the story whilst the narrator is on a business trip. A snowstorm eventually hits, trapping the narrator in Starkfield. Made to spend more time with Frome, he learns more about Frome’s turbulent existence. Frome has lived in Starkfield his entire life, taking care of his family in the house he grew up in as his parents and siblings slowly succumb to sickness and age. Frome’s life is lonesome, as his wife Zenobia has effectively chained Frome down for years, forcing him to care for her and to work to support the house. In addition to his stagnant life, Frome has been badly crippled following what is referred to by many as “the accident.”
Frome had attempted to elope with his true romantic interest, Mattie, his housemaid. When he realizes that he cannot leave Starkfield to marry Mattie, she talks him into a suicide pact. They both sled down the steep hilltops of Starkfield into a tree, dying together and never being apart again. In a tragic backwards turn, more harm is done when both survive the accident: Frome bears a permanent limp, and Mattie is paralyzed. Zenobia, Frome and Mattie live out the rest of their days equally miserable in the cabin in the woods.
Many obvious overlaps emerge between Wharton’s novel and Banks’s song. For one, both works revolve around a male character in a failing relationship. This male character has little agency: Banks refers to himself as being “hooked;” Frome cannot leave Starkfield. Banks’ partner constantly belittles him, while Frome’s wife Zenobia insults him for being crippled, decrying his uselessness.
Both Banks and Frome grapple with the past: Frome remembers when he was not crippled, when Mattie was lively and passionate, and when he had the chance to leave behind Starkfield; Banks sings such lines as “we’ll collect those lonely parts and set them down.” Banks mentions how all the people he has loved have left behind keepsakes, which furthers this sense of loss, a central theme in EF.
To understand the impression of winter the instruments paint in LE, one should look to the fabled Viking explorer Leif Erikson himself, who is crucial to the connection between EF and LE by providing a historical context which filters future consumption of the song. Vikings resided in the cold, northern areas of Europe during the Dark Ages. Leif Erikson left his people behind to explore, and encountered challenges previously unimaginable. The song sounds wintry and dark, and the bass guitar is brooding, devoid of sunlight. The organ arpeggios are the snow being blown around by the cold wind. The bass guitar is the hearth that keeps the house warm in the dead of winter. The lifeboat Banks tries to escape in cuts through the icy, dark water, under a dark night sky filled with stars as he watches his breath freeze in front of him. Likewise, EF takes place in a desolate rural town with harsh winters.
Upon considering the setting, the specifics and intricacies of the lyrics become more clear. Banks conjures a lifeboat, and his voice grows, becoming almost dreamlike, as if the possibility of escape is a dream, before becoming more and more desperate, feeding into an image of a nightly, secretive getaway. This escape is exactly what Frome himself tried: The accident was Frome’s attempt to rescue himself and Mattie on their “lifeboat”—the sled—and escape the clutches of stagnation and Zenobia. Banks talks about collecting “lonely parts,” something that Ethan has done his entire life and now will continue to do as Mattie has indeed come to him. Frome and Mattie then together collect misery for the rest of their days.
“Leif Erikson” and “Ethan Frome” are tied together by their wintry settings, sharing heavy thematic focus on loss, the past, and a lack of agency. Their main characters take similar actions: both try to escape and fail in their efforts, both try to rectify the past, and both put up with hopeless relationships. Their cold is absolute. Escaping on a lifeboat is but a dream. Their stories conclude with their attempts to learn to live with it, and the embrace of decline.
Ryland Breen can be reached at rkbreen@wesleyan.edu.
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