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.
Snowflakes
Jeremy Fisher Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Lip gloss kisses in the backseat of a rusted car
Bells are ringing loud
The streets are full of snow
You never let me down
I could never let you go
I wanna kiss snowflakes off your tongue
When were young
Holidays ain′t no fun unless you're in love
The angel on a treetop packed up and flew away
It figures that snow′s just water in a different state
I've been killing time
And time's been killing me
If I could slow it down
How different would it be?
I wanna kiss snowflakes off your tongue
Like when we were young
When were young
Holidays ain′t no fun unless you′re in love
I wanna kiss snowflakes off your tongue
Like when we were young
When were young
Holidays ain't no fun unless you′re in love
When were young, when we were young
When were young, when we were young
When were young, when we were young
When were young, when we were young
The lyrics of Jeremy Fisher's song "Snowflakes" depict a nostalgic longing for a past romance during the winter holiday season. The use of snow imagery, such as "snowball" and "snowflakes off your tongue," serves as a symbol for the purity and innocence of young love. The mention of a "rusted car" and "killing time" suggests that this relationship occurred in the past and was perhaps not built to last. The line "Holidays ain't no fun unless you're in love" further emphasizes the idea that the singer longs for the feelings of love and belonging that came with their past relationship.
The use of the phrase "lip gloss kisses" adds a touch of youthful innocence and playfulness to the lyrics, amplifying the idea that this was a relationship built on youthful passion and romance. The mention of the "angel on a treetop" leaving also serves to reinforce this idea, as the "angel" could symbolize the naivete and innocence of the relationship that is now gone.
Overall, "Snowflakes" is a nostalgic and bittersweet reflection on a past love during the holiday season, using the imagery of snow to symbolize the purity and innocence of young love and the longing for connection and belonging that comes with the holiday season.
Line by Line Meaning
Snowball, cherry bomb, sparkles like the northern star
The beauty of the snow seems like fireworks in the winter night.
Lip gloss kisses in the backseat of a rusted car
Romantic love between two partners standing the test of time.
Bells are ringing loud
The sound of the holiday joy is everywhere, urging the season to begin.
The streets are full of snow
The winter setting is perfect, blankets of snow covering the streets.
You never let me down
Love from a partner is steadfast, reliable, and unshakeable.
I could never let you go
The singer is completely devoted to their partner, and their love is enduring.
I wanna kiss snowflakes off your tongue
The singer wants to experience the magic of winter love by feeling the snowflakes melting in their partner's mouth.
Like when we were young
Winter wonderland dreams are reminiscent of younger, carefree days with a nostalgic edge.
Holidays ain't no fun unless you're in love
The holidays are only enjoyable when you are surrounded by love.
The angel on a treetop packed up and flew away
The symbol of Christmas, the angel, departed, marking the Christmas season's end.
It figures that snow's just water in a different state
The nature of snow is no different from its liquid state- water, contrary to its magical and otherworldly appeal.
I've been killing time
The artist has been idle and waiting for something to happen.
And time's been killing me
The singer feels the weight of time passing and the pressure to make the best of the moment.
If I could slow it down
The singer finds time slipping away too fast, and wants to cherish every moment of winter romance.
How different would it be?
The singer reflects on how sweet life would be if one could enjoy time's every moment and freeze it in time.
When were young, when we were young
The artist repeats the nostalgic phrase, ensuring that the imperative youthful days stay etched in their memory forever.
Writer(s): Jeremy Binns
Contributed by Eva W. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
@DR3281i
Finally found this song before 2020
@akneis00
I love this song!! :)
@dannyball5524
Funny you can't get this on ITunes. I got it from a free download several years back. It has since become one of my favorite Christmas tunes. I've been surprised it didn't get more airplay or been covered.
@applek70
You can get this sing on itunes! i luv this song!!!
@lovelyinjasmine
@aLiSweeT227 you're welcome! I'm glad you found it (: