“You know a lot of alcoholics,” a friend observed after she sat through several recent, woeful tales starring those in my orbit. From her perspective, an accurate statement. From mine, there’s a bit more nuance. Alcoholism and mental illness have swirled around me since childhood. My family has a long-standing history with both, and one is often a byproduct of the other. Despite close encounters, I’ve dodged personal affliction and gained outside perspective.
Alcohol primarily acts as a mute button for people who struggle with noisy, persistent negative or painful thoughts — the impetus of many mental illnesses. When its effects wear off, things get loud again and the cycle repeats. It’s an addiction, a carousel, and as a close friend or family member you’re hostage to the repetitive ride.
In 2024, I boarded a couple active carousels. Over the course of the year, their speeds varied yet both became untenably dizzying in the fall. I thought that perhaps I’d be thrown clear but the buckles are tight. Difficult as it is for me to go ’round, I can’t imagine what it’s like for my loved ones who’ve been strapped in for ten years. Control is lost and the exit is hard to find.
Townes Van Zandt’s “Fare Thee Well, Miss Carousel” is a near-joyful soliloquy on the dominion of addiction. The title alone is a perfect five word ode, and the lyrics contain visceral narratives of its effects:
When the need arose, your eyes fell closed
You clamped your fingers ’round your nose
Would you say that’s any way to judge him?
Well, you haven’t got the authority
To kill him in the first degree
But would you feel compelled, Miss Carousel
If you had something to begrudge him?
On a velvet beach far beneath the reach
Of those that come to pry and preach
The natural man who tries to stand is fallin’
How long will it be before he sees
You own his legs but his mind is free
Only you can tell, Miss Carousel
How long will he be crawling?
From first listen, I’ve never doubted the song’s topic. However, before writing this post, I perused Reddit to see what other listeners gleaned. To my surprise, a variety of meanings were discussed. When I mentioned the dichotomy to my partner, he said, “That’s how you know it’s an incredible song — when the meaning seems obvious yet may be completely different for each listener.” Couldn’t have said it better myself.
A lifelong addict, Townes was diagnosed and grappled with mental illness from a young age. He turned to drugs and alcohol to quiet the voices — “mostly musical” — in his head. As demonstrated by his body of work, they were never fully silenced. (To save me from recounting a life story, watch Be Here To Love Me.)
Townes’ biography and poetry continually deepen my empathy towards those who struggle with similar conditions. I withhold judgment, listen, and try to understand. I discuss the grip and far-reaching effects with those who haven’t directly experienced it, as many people still view mental illness, alcoholism, and addiction as signs of weakness and immorality. I look for the light that appears beyond each dark corner. You never know where you might find something beautiful like this:
Despite a slightly romanticized belief that great art can come from addiction, I’m not complacent to its severity. I rarely drink. I vocalize my beliefs that the alcohol industry’s lobbying efforts keep its true detrimental effects on mental and physical health buried beneath heaps of ads and storylines that normalize it. Additionally, I believe that as women age, alcohol exacerbates the negative side effects of hormonal changes and menopause. Sleepless, sweaty nights and the subsequent dips in energy and mood may be negotiable.
If we increasingly engage in open dialogue and more people abstain, maybe I’ll get to cash in my carousel tickets for a trip to Morocco. In the meantime, I’ll continue to use stories like Townes’ and my experiences with friends and family to help people understand the impetuses and protracted effects of addiction.
Do you agree with my interpretation of Townes’ song? If not, what do you think his lyrics mean? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.
To quote the great James Hoffman, thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day.
PS: The half shaded portrait in the featured photo, discovered in Townes’ mother’s dresser drawer, strikingly portrays the duality within his songwriting and presumably within his life. From the bluesy, dark depths of “Waiting Around To Die” to the sweet yearning of “No Lonesome Tune” and eloquence of “To Live Is To Fly,” his songs vividly capture the spectrum of life.
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