Venus by Television Lyrics Meaning – Unraveling the Punk Poetics of Verlaine’s Venus De Milo
Lyrics
The world was so thin between my bones and skin
There stood another person who was a little surprised
To be face to face with a world so alive
How I fell (did you feel low?)
No (huh?)
I fell right into the arms of Venus De Milo
You know it’s all like some new kind of drug
My senses are sharp and my hands are like gloves
Broadway looked so medieval
It seemed to flap like little pages
And I fell sideways laughing
With a friend from many stages
How we felt (did you feel low?)
Not at all (huh?)
I fell right into the arms of Venus De Milo
Suddenly, my eyes went so soft and shaky
I knew there was pain but pain is not aching
Then Richie, Richie said
“Hey man, let’s dress up like cops, think of what we could do”
Something, something said “you better not”
And I fell (did you feel low?)
Nah (huh?)
I stood up, walked out of the arms of Venus De Milo
As the needle drops on Television’s 1977 opus, ‘Marquee Moon’, listeners are immediately drawn into a world of poetic punk musings where guitars duel with words. One track that persistently captivates and puzzles is ‘Venus’, where frontman Tom Verlaine weaves a narrative as enigmatic as the smile of the very goddess the song seems to serenade.
Peering through the lens of Television’s iconic tune, we contemplate the intricacies of ‘Venus’, a song that eludes the captivity of straightforward meaning, flourishing in the gaps between notes and verses. This piece unravels the encrypted messages behind its lyrics, diving into a pool of imagery that not only reflects the ethos of a bygone era but also captures a timeless essence of human experience.
Strumming the Chords of Urban Odyssey
The opening lines, ‘It was a tight toy night, streets so bright’, invoke the essence of a neon-saturated New York, painting a vivid landscape that is at once concrete and metaphorical. Verlaine’s depiction of an environment where ‘the world was so thin between my bones and skin’ speaks to a visceral connection between the individual and the throbbing life of the city.
As ‘another person’ stands ‘a little surprised’, it’s apparent that ‘Venus’ is inviting the listener to become that person, to step face-to-face with a reality that is vibrant and pulsating. It’s a stark departure from solitude, a commanding call to awaken to the ‘world so alive’ around them.
The Embrace of the Inanimate Muse
The chorus—’I fell right into the arms of Venus De Milo’—is a clever play on love and art, using the paradoxical imagery of being held by the famously armless statue. The elusive Venus De Milo becomes a stand-in for an unattainable ideal, an impossible connection that, despite its clear futility, offers a strange comfort.
Verlaine’s repeated falls into the arms of Venus suggest a surrender to an aesthetic experience that transcends sensory limitations. This underscores a significant theme in punk sensibilities: the pursuit of raw, authentic experiences, even if they reside solely in the metaphysical or the abstract.
The Illusion of Medieval Broadway
Verlaine’s ‘Broadway looked so medieval’ catapults us into an anachronistic dream. The absurdity of ‘flap[ping] like little pages’ indicates a morphing perception of reality, perhaps likening the bustling New York street to the tales of old, each pedestrian a character in an ever-unfolding narrative.
This sensation of historical dislocation is like ‘some new kind of drug’. The singer’s ‘senses are sharp’ and the surroundings are animated, infusing a sense of aliveness that contrasts with the usual depiction of the modern urban sprawl as alienating and cold.
Unveiling the Hidden Aches of Existence
What stands out in Verlaine’s storytelling is his confrontation with pain—an experience he acknowledges without capitulation. ‘I knew there was pain but pain is not aching’ signals an acceptance, a differentiation between acknowledging life’s inherent suffering and being subdued by it.
This stoic revelation is profound in its simplicity and appears to parallel punk’s broader ethos: recognizing the tribulations of life, yet choosing resilience. The fleeting nature of pain is acknowledged but not allowed to dictate the characters’ actions or outlook.
Cries and Whispers of a New York Fairy Tale
The song’s memorable lines are echoes of a larger narrative. Richie’s proposition to ‘dress up like cops’ and the chorus’ interjections—’did you feel low?…Nah’—suggest a playful rebelliousness, a flirtation with subverting authority and expectation.
Yet, an introspective voice reins in the mischief with ‘you better not’, a self-imposed boundary that threads a line between freedom and responsibility. These exchanges capture the essence of youth, hovering between the audacious urge to take the world head-on and the cautious wisdom that whispers from experience.
