Babylon Sisters, Shake It

Donald Fagen (left) and Walter Becker: Steely Dan

We'll jog with show folk on the sand. 

Drink Kirschwasser from a shell. 

San Francisco show and tell.

--Steely Dan, "Babylon Sisters"

During a recent trip to New York, I heard familiar music playing in two vastly different venues: a popular brunch spot that fittingly reminded me of a '70s fern bar and a FedEx shipping office. The music's vibe was effortlessly smooth, and the lyrics were as cynical and bewildering as ever. 

I took this as a sign; the universe was urging me to heed the sounds of the late Walter Becker and Donald Fagen once again.

I reimmersed myself in Steely Dan. It took me back to my college dorm room, where I listened repeatedly while staring at the albums' diverse, evocative artwork. There was always much to decipher.

In the ‘70s and early ‘80s, I was an obsessive Dan fan. I cut my pop music teeth on The Royal Scam in my parents’ basement. Steely Dan music played in distinguished venues, like the haberdashery where I bought my clothes.

Snarky, intelligent, and seductive, Steely Dan's music was a fusion of jazz, pop, funk, and soul. Their jewel-like songs evoked criminal scenarios, shady characters, and spoiled showbiz kids long before Nepo babies were a thing. As a nascent lover of language, I marveled at how Fagen and Becker dispatched words with a sharpshooter’s precision and a riddler’s sense of enigma. 

 

Those words left many questions unanswered. 

Who was Kid Charlemagne, and why did everyone stop to stare at his technicolor motorhome? What number was Rikki at risk of losing? Who was Doctor Wu, and was he crazy, high, or just an ordinary guy? Who was the expanding man, and what were his deacon blues?

As I aged, my listening habits shifted away from Steely Dan. When I wanted something cynical, I gravitated toward more contemporary songs by Beck and Eminem. This made me feel like a Steely Dan dropout. I knew their lyrics had more meaning but gave up without a Baedeker.

 

Then, two years ago, a New York Times column by a Columbia linguist helped me come to terms with Steely Dan’s lyrics. John McWhorter, author of Quantum Criminals: Ramblers, Wild Gamblers, and Other Sole Survivors from the Songs of Steely Dan, states that this attribute of lyrics to please the ear while having an ambiguous meaning is akin to experiencing Shakespeare in performance. 

 

It’s ok not to know what the words mean. They just sound good.

 

They say that Mozart stimulates babies’ brains. If that's true, exposing infants to Steely Dan will produce smooth-talking, cynical kids.

It may be pretzel logic, but I’m never gonna do it without the fez on.

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