Jeremy has a tendency to get his legs involved as well: In 2002, he biked across the entire continent, from Seattle to Halifax, Nova Scotia—and that’s a loooooong way, folks—to promote his first album, Back Porch Spirituals, recorded in a friend’s basement. That trek took six months and included 30 official shows, plus a number of impromptu performances, and it laid the foundation for what is now a sizable fan base in Fisher’s native Canada. He also has a history of busking in the more conventional manner—whatever it takes to get his music heard. We’re talkin’ grass-roots, interactive DIY to the max with this talented and dedicated—or maybe driven is a better word—young artist.
Fisher’s new album, Goodbye Blue Monday (released in the U.S. September 18 on Wind-up Records), is a timeless burst of acoustic rock & roll that’s brainy and hook-filled, playful and provocative, all at the same time. Take “Cigarette,” which employs the cancer stick as a metaphor for addictive relationships—the enticement, the yearning, the withdrawal and the damage. Or “Scar That Never Heals,” which examines the anatomy of heartbreak. At the same time, both are thoroughly infectious tracks with choruses that are, well, addictive. That’s Fisher’s M.O.
The album’s extremes are represented by the buoyant “High School” (a recut version of the single from Fisher’s second album, Let It Shine, which picked up substantial airplay in Canada) on the one hand, and the politically charged “American Girls” and “Lay Down (Ballad of Rigoberto Alpizar)” on the other. This is the sort of record that sounds like you’ve been playing it forever even as it explores themes that are altogether unprecedented—and that is no mean feat. Says Hawksley Workman (Tegan & Sara), who produced, played and sang backing vocals on the album, “Jeremy’s a brilliant and direct songwriter with a bright soul.”
As a curly-haired singer with an acoustic guitar, Fisher gets the requisite comparisons to Bob Dylan, while his boyish tenor, dexterous fingerpicking and electrifying hooks eerily recall Paul Simon. “It was a little weird to hear that sort of stuff at first,” he says, “but I’m really flattered that people see those resemblances, and I’m sure that some of the records Simon and Dylan listened to are in my collection—Delta blues singers like Charlie Patton, Robert Johnson, Mississippi John Hurt and Big Bill Broonzy, Alan Lomax’s field recordings, Depression-era stuff. For some reason, I identified with all that old stuff when I was going through this renaissance in my songwriting—it’s what inspired me to continue making music.”
With one foot in roots idioms and the other in rock, Fisher has an unusually broad palate to work with. He spent by far the greater part of his career playing solo, and there’s a disarming spontaneity to his performances. “I’ve probably done 80 percent of my shows solo,” he says, “and I built my thing on top of that. When I was busking, I shed all the things I’d been doing that didn’t work—it developed my songwriting and my performing, and it built my confidence. I feel like I really came into my own performing on the street, and for a while that’s all I wanted to do. So it’s been a hard road trying to find the right band, and the newest incarnation of my band is starting to feel the closest to how comfortable I am as a solo performer.”
As committed as he is to having fun, Fisher is totally serious about his mission. “Music can do a lot of things,” he says, “but the greatest thing music can do is to make listening to a record the best three-and-a-half minutes of your day, or the best night of your week when you go to a show. It’s an escape from the hum-drum; it’s a drug that’s actually good for you. What I’m really trying to do is relate to people on a human level, and in my songs I tend to gravitate toward the human element of a story. For example, ‘Lay Down (Ballad of Rigoberto Alpizar)’ is about a guy who got murdered by an air marshal in the Miami Airport, but the viewpoint I use is the fictitious voice of the guy who shot him. So what I’m trying to do is communicate with people, and music is the best way I know how to do that. Music is such a mysterious thing, because it’s pretty much invisible, but a song can convey an amazing amount of emotion.”
That’s certainly the case with “American Girls,” which boasts another audaciously unsettling premise. “I wrote the chorus and lyrics immediately after reading the verdict on Private Lynndie England, who was the Abu Ghraib soldier who took all the photos with the Iraqi prisoners,” Fisher points out. It was so controversial and got so much attention, and she ended up being the scapegoat, but the verdict got buried in the back of the newspapers because it wasn’t sensational enough, and I didn’t want to let it go by without being documented. That song and ‘The Ballad of Rigoberto Alpizar’ are both about events that are monumental but not nearly as important as the fact that a certain superstar wasn’t wearing underwear when she got out of a limo. This is a very weird culture we live in.”
As for the making of that little video with the big impact, well, there was a serious purpose behind that too. “I wanted there to be something out there that was from me—that wasn’t based on marketing—using what I had in my apartment as creatively as possible,” he says. “Just to be out there and relate to people in that way, and say, ‘Here’s something from me that I made for you. I can’t answer every email, but I want you to know that we’re communicating.’ It’s very important to me to be authentic in everything I do and find a creative way to get it all done. I remember being 12 years old and sending fan letters to pro skateboarders, hoping they’d get to read it and hoping they might write back. So I know what it feels like.”
A lot of time and effort went into that $60 clip. “The cigarette was made out of modeling clay,” Fisher explains, “and every frame was an individual picture I took, so it was a very long process, especially posing the cigarette with live people and getting them to do certain things at the same time. It’s pretty involved. Like, you sit there for an hour moving this little cigarette around, and then you push the spacebar and you have 10 seconds of footage, but somehow it’s rewarding. It’s funny, because I’m not all that patient a person.” He pauses for a beat. “But I’m dedicated.”
No two ways about that. For Jeremy Fisher, it’s all about attending to the details, telling the truth, being real and giving people the best three-and-a-half minutes of their day.
Drunk On Your Tears
Jeremy Fisher Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
My world is spinning 'round
Can't put my foot down
Numb, but I'm here
'Cause the creaking in your bones
Is how I find my way home
You're a thousand miles away
But I can touch you with my toes
Drunk again
Every night it seems
I stumble in over your dreams
Numb and I'm drained
I run my fingers through your hair
You run right through me with your stare
You're awake, I know
You're a thousand miles away
But I can touch you with my toes
You're awake, I know
You're a thousand miles away
But I can touch you with my toes
Drunk on your tears
Lying in the bed next
To nothing disappears
Drunk and so tired
Tired of waking up again
'Cause every day's so much the same
You're awake, I know
You're a thousand miles away
But I can touch you with my toes
The lyrics to Jeremy Fisher's song "Drunk on Your Tears" convey a sense of disorientation and longing for connection to a distant loved one. The repetition of the line "drunk on your tears" highlights the singer's emotional state of being overwhelmed and lost. The spinning world and inability to put their foot down suggest a lack of control over their life, with the tears of this loved one being the only thing that provides some sense of direction or purpose. The physical sensation of numbness is juxtaposed with the emotional intensity of being able to "find [their] way home" through the "creaking in [the loved one's] bones", symbolizing a deep connection that transcends the physical distance.
As the song progresses, the singer reveals that their drunkenness is a recurring problem, with every night being a stumbling haze. However, even in this state, they continue to seek out the presence of their loved one, running their fingers through their hair and feeling the weight of their gaze. The loneliness and frustration of waking up alone each morning is palpable, with every day feeling like a repetition of the one before it.
Overall, the lyrics of "Drunk on Your Tears" paint a picture of a deeply felt emotional connection that is struggling to overcome physical distance and addiction. The singer is lost without their loved one, turning to alcohol as a coping mechanism, but still finding comfort in the knowledge that they are somehow still able to touch them, even if only with their toes.
Line by Line Meaning
Drunk on your tears
I am so emotionally overwhelmed by the pain I've caused you that I am completely consumed by it.
My world is spinning 'round
I am completely disoriented and lost because of my actions.
Can't put my foot down
I am unable to move forward or make things right because I am so consumed by guilt and shame.
Numb, but I'm here
I am emotionally numb, but I am still present with you because I want to make amends.
'Cause the creaking in your bones
Your pain and suffering is the only way I can find my way back to you.
Is how I find my way home
Your suffering is the only way I can make amends for what I've done and begin to heal our relationship.
You're awake, I know
I know you're fully aware of the damage I've caused and it breaks my heart.
You're a thousand miles away
Even though we are physically together, we are emotionally so far apart because of my actions.
But I can touch you with my toes
I want to be close to you, even though I know I've caused you such deep pain.
Drunk again
I am once again consumed by my guilt and shame about what I've done.
Every night it seems
My guilt and shame consume me every single night.
I stumble in over your dreams
I am so overwhelmed with guilt that I feel like I'm intruding even in your dreams.
Numb and I'm drained
My guilt and shame have completely drained me of all my emotional energy.
I run my fingers through your hair
I want to be close to you and make things right between us.
You run right through me with your stare
Even though we are physically close, I know that emotionally we are still so far apart and it hurts.
Drunk on your tears
I am once again consumed by my guilt and shame about what I've done.
Lying in the bed next
We are physically close, but emotionally so far apart.
To nothing disappears
Despite our physical proximity, I am still completely consumed by my guilt and shame.
Drunk and so tired
I am so overwhelmed by my emotions that it's exhausting.
Tired of waking up again
I am tired of having to face the consequences of my actions every day.
'Cause every day's so much the same
My guilt and shame follow me everywhere I go and I can't escape them.
You're awake, I know
I know you're fully aware of the damage I've caused and it breaks my heart.
You're a thousand miles away
Even though we are physically together, we are emotionally so far apart because of my actions.
But I can touch you with my toes
I want to be close to you, even though I know I've caused you such deep pain.
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: JEREMY BINNS
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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