Off He Goes
For those of you playing along at home, please keep in mind that the sequencing of Off He Goes, Habit and Red Mosquito back-to-back-to-back was done intentionally. There is a reason these three tracks are placed together smack dab in the middle of the album; there's a deeper connection behind these three songs than people tend to realize. The only reason I mention it is because many have claimed that No Code lacks cohesion, especially with the placement of Habit in between Off He Goes and Red Mosquito. We'll explore this idea deeper after we've gotten through Red Mosquito, but it's something to keep in mind for the next three tracks.
So we begin with Off He Goes, a song about a troubled friendship. But before we explore the narrative, let's begin with the music. Yes, that strange, alt-country backing behind the troubled lyrics. Again, I can relate to how off-putting this sounded to Pearl Jam fans at the time, but that was the point (I don't think I have to spend time trying to convince anyone that No Code was supposed to be a drastically different sound for the band). For some, Off He Goes gets a bad rap because of it. The music is mellow, sad and somber, which at the very least matches the lyrical content. I don't know how a musician would equate tears into notes and chords, but if they did, they'd sound a lot like some of Mike's guitar sounds, most notably right before the "And now I rub my eyes" line. The music as a whole symbolizes a mood, which is obviously explored deeper within the lyrics.
The song is broken down into three distinct parts: a disturbed man leaving his friend, the man thinking about his departed friend, and finally, the friend's return and re-disappearance. The narrator never specifically reveals why his friend is troubled (the "riding on a motorbike in the strongest winds" image is a great analogy to describe how his trouble has manifested itself physically), but does leave a few clues: "Said he'll see me on the flip side, on this trip he's taken for a ride." A flip side infers that the friend's experiences while away vs. his life at home are at two opposite ends of the spectrum, perhaps physically but most likely emotionally. We'll learn later on that the friend can be strong and enjoy himself with the narrator, so these trips of his leave him weak and buried with burden. He so dreads this off-time that he refuses to properly present himself in dress ("his perfectly unkempt clothes"). He feels no shame in allowing his outside appearance to match his internal feelings.
Now he's gone, and the narrator is left to ponder about his friend. These two have a history together ("we go way back"), and the narrator cares for him a great deal. "I wonder about his insides, it's like his thoughts are too big for his size." First, how many people, in your own personal lives, do you care enough about to wonder about their insides? And "insides," not just as their current state of mind, but as everything that has molded them into who they are today? The narrator knows this person, but doesn't quite fully understand him ("He's been taken where I don't know"). These two facts combine to create a very frustrated narrator, but not to the point that he's ready to dismiss his friend. He still keeps a picture of him around, to remind him of their friendship. And maybe to feel a little hope inside as well.
And after the tearful guitar solo, the story is concluded—to a point. Ed's vocal delivery in the song's final lines is astounding. Listen to the surprise in his voice upon recognition of his friend's return; or the baritone confidence upon the realization that his friend still smiles and is still strong; or the overwhelming joy of the laughter their reunion produces; or, finally, the sadness when he sees his friend's strain resurface on his face. The narrator runs an emotional gamut, and Ed nails each emotion consecutively, without the use of vocal overdubs. This is a fine example of how Ed, at the time, was perfecting the art of his vocal nuances and using them to his benefit, as well as to the songs' benefit as well.
But alas, this story doesn't have a happy ending. The friend is gone again, and keeps going and going until he fades from sight (as the music fades from our ears). The narrator's friend's behavior has proven to be cyclical, but the song leaves absolutely no clue as to why or how, at least within Off He Goes as a stand alone piece. Keep in mind the song that follows, Habit, and that one of the last lines of this song is "Nothing's changed but the surrounding bullshit—that has grown." Perhaps Ed was leaving us with a bit of a cliffhanger? But let's not jump the gun just yet. Right now we're simply left with a troubled friend, out there in the wilderness with someone loyal waiting in the wings. How long he'll wait before he stops turning a blind eye and his frustrations get the best of him? Well...stay tuned.
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