REPETITION
The Fall
1978
Available on : 50,000 Fall Fans Can't Be Wrong: 39 Golden Greats
Beggars UK : 2004
[Buy It]

JOY IN REPETITION
Prince
Graffiti Bridge
Warner Bros. : 1990
[Buy It]

You know when you tell someone the same thing over and over again? You know when you tell someone the same thing over and over again? I mean, really: You know when you tell someone the same thing over and over again? Does it help? Does it? Does it help matters? Does it help matters when you tell someone the same thing over and over again?

Recently I had to repeat myself. Recently I had to repeat myself. Recently I had to repeat myself. I was speaking to someone with whom I have at least the illusion of common cause. I believe that we are on the same wavelength, in some important ways, as humans. As a result we are friends. That is rare, and so it makes me happy. I repeat: That is rare, and so it makes me happy. People are a mix of learned wisdom and spontaneous immaturity, and to find a friend who either parallels or complements you in that regard, well, it's rare. It ignites the best things in everyone.

Usually I have nothing to complain about with this friend. Once, a few months ago, I complained about something. It was a behavior of hers that I found slightly troubling and that I worried might develop into something more troubling. I mentioned it once and let it go. I didn't want to repeat myself. Recently, though, I did. Recently, though, I did. Recently, though, I did. Circumstances hadn't changed, and so I once again said the thing I said once before. I restated it, not in the sense that I revised it, but in the sense that I repeated it. Here we have two kinds of repetition, related but not identical. I repeated myself because the thing I was concerned about has not changed. Does that truly count as repetition, something that has not changed?

I read something once by someone who said that all artwork is about finding a balance between repetition and variation. This is true, this is true. But it is truer than true, true not just for artwork, but for everything that artwork imitates and informs: Nature, time, the human mind, sex, breath. Everything is about finding a balance between repetition and variation, and by and large they have equal weights, if not equal shapes. Repetition is a form of variation. Variation is a form of repetition. Take pop music, which depends both on rhythm and melody. One is repetition and the other is, within reason, variation. But songs catch your attention by varying that which is repeated and by repeating that which is varied.

The Fall is perfect for this kind of thing. This kind of thing is perfectly illustrated by the Fall. For a perfect illustration of this kind of thing, consider The Fall. Mark E Smith formed a band that depends upon repetition (song after song on album after album, year after year) and depends also upon variation (new band members, new sounds, new topics for lyrics). The Fall's song "Repetition" summarizes this tension concisely:

Repetition in the music
And we're never going to lose it

Smith is also very funny, and in that sense he also participates in repetition. The French philosopher Henri Bergson names repetition as one of the three foundational rhetorical devices central to laughter, and he traces it back to the childhood game of Jack-In-The-Box. The handle goes around and around and around, the repetition lulling the viewer into submission and creating one kind of pleasure, and then, with a kind of violent suddenness, the Jack jumps out of the box. Laughter is produced when surprise is produced and repetition is shattered. But then that process is good for another go-round, at least: the process by which variation is introduced can itself be repeated. It is a mainspring of the human experience: people say that we learn from repetition, and they are right. Mark E Smith is also very funny:

We dig repetition
Repetition in the drums
And we're never going to lose it
This is the three R's
The three R's:
Repetition, Repetition, Repetition

When I had to repeat myself recently it was because I felt that the circumstances that produced my original statement had not changed. But because the circumstances could only change as the result of action--by myself, by my friend--my repetition carried an implication of failure on both of our parts. Had there been effort, the circumstances might have changed, and so the repetition would not have been necessary. Because circumstances were the same, because the second identical statement applied months after the first, I felt that I needed to explain that I was not joking. "I am serious," I wrote, and considered writing it a second time for emphasis.

Repetition without comedy is a specific form of emphasis, and it is a different proposition entirely from the one sketched above. When repetition is serious, it travels to the extremes of freedom. On the one hand, it can become suffocating and unforgivable. This was my fear repeating myself to my friend, that she would feel suffocated. On the other hand, serious repetition can be ecstatic. Spiritual satisfaction depends on repetition, as does sexual satisfaction. Prince's "Joy In Repetition" is ecstatic in both regards, and it may even suggest that one is a restatement of the other. In the song, a man goes to a nightclub and sees a woman at the microphone, repeating the words "love me" over and over again. He follows her into the alley, hoping for a conversation, but she keeps repeating herself:

In the alley over by the curb he said tell me what's your name
She only said the words again and it started to rain
Two words falling between the drops and the moans of his condition
Holding someone is truly believing there's joy in repetition
There's joy in repetition
There's joy in repetition
There's joy in repetition
There's joy in repetition

There is repetition in "Joy in Repetition." There is joy in "Joy in Repetition." The woman is repeating her request to eliminate any chance of misunderstanding. Prince is repeating his chorus in the same spirit. Repetition here isn't boring. It's joyful, as I have said--like the repetition of a friendship day after day after day--and as a result, the song makes me feel better about repeating myself, when I have to, which isn't all the time.

Recently, I had to repeat myself. I had to tell a friend something that I also told her months ago. I had to tell a friend something I also told her months ago because things haven't changed since then, and so my words, too, haven't changed. My friend replied to my second statement much as she replied to the first, with a promise of improvement. She replied to my repetition with a repetition of her own. Repetition is a source of frustration, because it suggests a lack of progress (why aren't the bad things changing?), and it is also a source of comfort, because it reiterates a central premise (the good things remain intact). I should be able to see the benefits of repetition. I have learned and relearned that there are benefits to repetition. I have learned it repeatedly. I don't want to feel bad about repeating myself. I repeat: I don't want to feel bad. I repeat: I repeat.

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HELLO PEOPLE OF NEW YORK CITY AND ENVIRONS: We have a special Moistworks announcement. Regular contributor Ben Greenman, who wrote the post above, will be celebrating the release of his fancy new limited-edition, handcrafted, letter-press book Correspondences at the Tenement Museum (108 Orchard Street) at 6:30 p.m. on Thursday, November 6. Ben will read, along with Arthur Nersesian and Todd Zuniga. Come one, come all.