Sinister: B & S travelogue--tautologies and oxymorons

[S. Gazzetti]

My friend posed a riddle a few days before I hit the road. She asked me,
“Which Belle & Sebastian song contains a tautology (not sure I am using
that right) and which contains an oxymoron?” As it turns out, ‘tautology’
is one of those words I have to look up every time I see it, so I did,
just before setting out. It turns out that the reason I can never recall
its meaning is that there are two of them. First, it can mean use of
additional words with no corresponding increase in meaning (eg ‘widow
woman’). It can also mean a logical version of something similar, as in
“the candidate will either win or not.”

I figured that a long road trip with every B & S disc in heavy rotation
would be a perfect opportunity to solve these intriguing riddles. This
post is transcribed from notes scribbled all-but-illegibly on the back of
a coffee-stained car-repair receipt: “diagnose and repair as needed/right
front suspension is bent…” Sorry that it runs long, but there is nominal B
& S content and over a thousand miles of thinking of all of you.

I drive across Montana unshod. Mile 0: ease out of  Missoula (horrifically
smoky due to man-made “wild” fires burning approx 250,000 acres) with
Magnetic Fields and Brian Wilson as warm-up for Big Tautological Riddle
Project. After getting into rhythm of the road I begin chronologically
with “Tigermilk” at mile 60.
Mile 62: possible tautology spotted in first song(!): “boy’s EMPTY mind”?
Too easy. Must keep looking.
Turn off CD at mile 70, tune in National Public Radio for world/nat’l news
Mile 72: crap tuner loses NPR. Scan for other NPR signal but detect only
rotten music stations.
Mile 73: “Silly Love Songs” plays.
Mile 75 SLS ends. Continue scanning.
Mile 76 “Band on the Run” plays on DIFFERENT station. Are DJs colluding?
Back to B & S. “You’re just a baby, baby girl”? But that’s merely
redundancy.
Mile 96: tautology at discourse level detected in “Electronic
Renaissance.” “If you work for very much longer/You’ll be known as the boy
who’s always working.” Maybe. But it’s weak. Am struck by irony of  “my
wandering days are over,” as am just 112 miles into a trip of probably
several months and who knows how many miles. Center of so-called being is
the space between the gearshift lever and the parking brake. Yeah, the
parking brake. Also: could not “spooky witch” be considered vaguely
tautological? Not satisfied with this, I continue east.
Mile 122: lowering sun finally appears as pall of nauseating smoke thins
slightly. Temp in car approaches melting point of lead. NPR out of Butte
tunes in. Some filmmaker opines, “We tend to love our least successful
children the most…” Comforting, this, as am en route to parents’ for
“visit” which may end only when/if ever find job.
Cross Continental Divide at 6,963 feet and mile 129. Now, if dump
bulk-purchased Mochaccino out window, it would eventually reach Atlantic.
Also at mile 129 I don’t love anyone. Though it occurs to me that it’s
been a long time since I saw my sister.
Mile 145: begin composing Laura Llew poem as eastern Montana degenerates
into the boring flatness I can expect for the next thousand miles. Put in
IYFS.
Mile 171: first real logical tautology detected  as cross headwaters of
the mighty Missouri to accompaniment of GMAFHID: “You could either be
successful or be us.” This strikes me as a dictionary definition of a
logical tautology, though I suppose it does depend a bit on the B & S
dictionary def of ‘successful.’
Mile 204: IYFS seemed really short.
Mile 226: Juggling liner notes, water jug, precious discs, and atlas,
realization about mileage/driving time miscalculation dawns-it will
practically BE dawn when I reach the campsite I’d planned for.
Mile 230: begin playing stupid mental math games, trying to calculate fuel
consumption/efficiency, driving/arrival times, how long a tank lasts (five
hours at 75 mph), and whether I can drive all night and find fuel in the
middle of the night in the middle of North Dakota. Also where I’ll be when
the B & S runs out.
Counting smoky mountain ranges. Have passed through Bitterroots,
Sapphires, Tobacco Roots, Absarokas, Beartooths, and air is still palpably
smoky.
Panic! Have left wallet in rest area at mile 52!
Panic ends: wallet found underneath liner notes for LLPJ EP.
Mile 252: note-taking getting harder. Curse Eisenhower for building such
excellent roads and killing rail travel. How productive I could be on a
train! In my rear view mirror, the sun is going down; this recalls a Pink
Floyd lyric, and with it memories of the Great Big Pink Floyd is Shite/Is
Not! Debate. The EPs fly past with no answers to my riddles.
Am suddenly gutted at mile 257, as  realize that the brilliant Laura Llew
poem composed in head is forgotten forever.
At mile 265 pass Lazy J motel, and think of Jane.
“TRUST JESUS” graffito at mile 270 induces musing on Great Big Theological
Debate of July and its polarizing effect on peculiarly deranged fanbase.
Gorgeous, nearly-full moon arising in lilac murk causes me to praise
putative deity. Really enjoying TBWTAS.
Mile 297: cross Yellowstone River with “Is it Wicked Not to Care?” Still
not a single oxymoron, though a few weak ones show up at end of “Summer
Wasting”: “Summer in winter/Winter is springtime”? Not very satisfying as
an answer to my riddle. My friend is much more clever than that. More
stupid math games as TBWTAS ends reveal that am maintaining avg. speed of
65 mph, despite numerous stops. Prior to last year, Montana had no
numerical speed limit (it was “safe and prudent at all times”). Almost run
out of fuel (am notorious for this) at mile 326.Mpg=27, even with horrible
roof carrier-caused turbulence whose racket almost drowns out “A Space Boy
Dream.” But if the answers are buried in there, I’m not going to hear them
on this stereo. At mile 346 vow to keep driving til out of Montana.
Mile 348: vow not to be too type-A about this whole trip.
Mile 353: Cross Yellowstone again. Can’t it make up its mind? Pop in “This
is Just a Modern Rock Song” EP. Worry that my car is breathing its last,
but it's just the smell of Billings.
Mile 357: take wrong branch and head for Wyoming. Curses,
atlas-consulting, and U-turn totally distract from combing tracks 2 & 3 on
EP for oxymorons/tautologies.
Mile 370: inserting FISHYCLAP nearly causes collision with young male elk.
Can see dim stars for first time in two smoky weeks-am exiting smoke zone
at last!
“Beyond the Sunrise” is very good with fullish moon illuminating Great
rolling Plains.
Refrain of “Don’t Leave the Light on Baby” seems admonishment about
ruining night vision by trying to read lyrics by dome light.
Mile 405: am VERY sticky. Wish could fall in Clyde to wash.
Mile 421: cross Bighorn River as last full-length LP ends. Was counting on
B & S to get me out of Montana!
Mile 436: “Legal Man” EP, and thus Belle & Sebastian, is done. Plough and
Orion both plain to see; not so answers to riddles.

If any of you out there are interested in helping to solve this vexing
problem, let’s talk about it. I have to admit that there were plenty of
songs whose lyrical nuances were obscured by roaring trucks, windy
conditions, atlas-looking, wool-gathering, logistical concerns engendered
by auto travel, etc. So if any of you lovely biscuit-nibblers can think of
better examples of tautologies and oxymorons than those I came up with on
I-90 and I-94, please at least let me know, if not the whole list.

I am posting this from somewhere in Minnesota. As the night turned to day,
I managed to re-compose the Laura Llew poem, which I committed to receipt,
and will send in My Second Post when I get to the east coast. Now I am off
to catch a ferry across Lake Michigan. Thanks to all of you for keeping me
company for my first 1,200 miles!

Schatz



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