Train Insane

Train Insane – A Start-stop Rollercoaster

Train Insane is a song formed out an imagined fantasy involving a guy longing to be with a girl who completely ignores him because of his lack of attractive qualities. The lyrics approach the situation from the woeful man’s point of view, as he tries to persuade the girl of his dreams of his hidden yet worthy value. The protagonist yearns for that elusive mutual love, pulling out all the stops to gain her attention. Then during the third verse, he turns more despondent and basically gives up all hope. The closing line, repeated over and over, pay tribute to the hopeless, ludicrous dance that lovers partake in to achieve fulfillment.

In order to convey the raging emotions of the central character, I aimed to create a blend of melodic rhythm and abrasive squalls of noise. When one of the verses falls apart into an extended series of screeching guitar notes, this is meant to symbolize the frustration of someone who is continually snatched from the jaws of victory. I implemented the use of a drum machine and a bass guitar so that the added percussion would add more urgency and forcefulness to the song. For the guitar solo, I devised its entrance to be unannounced and standing alone, similar to how the earnest love-sick boy feels all the time. It could be likened to a mating call, perhaps out of desperation, because the idolized girl probably has given up on him by now.

In a nutshell, Train Insane is just blithe and frothy commentary on how the innocent game of love can be based on such faulty notions like conceit and ignorance. If everyone were as selective and unyielding as the suggested ice-queen of this song, then humans would never be able to procreate.

Lyrics

I sure do like your striped cotton sweater
I think it'd make an earnest mermaid wetter
Don't reproach these face-saving acts of love
You could always pull the plug with a shove

I wish you wouldn't file me away
Always trying to hold my lust at bay
You float me like a cadaver on a dirge
But I'll reciprocate, like a tortoise on the surge

Daring social manuevers abound
Have you ever heard of a girl so wound?
Oh well, I pleaded with your porcelain face
I guess my straw ambitions will go to waste

Kraut passion flows out of your fingertips
The prodigal Poseidon craves your luscious lips
Those quizzical brows must look past me being shy
If not then what is there for me but to die

Whirling glib tribal dances, like scornful generals armed with lances