Now I Am an Arsonist

Jonathan Coulton is, as I've said before, one of the most important artists in my life. His work clicked with me so immediately and profoundly that I genuinely have trouble picturing the person I would be now without it. I think he is a genius, an unlikely poet, and one of the most criminally slept-on lyricists of the century. And yet, as close as his discography is to me, I'm still finding songs that somehow missed me before. One of these is "Now I Am an Arsonist," a duet with Suzanne Vega from Coulton's 2011 album Artificial Heart. I've listened to this album many times, and yet this particular track, remarkably, has never stood out to me until now.

Why? Your guess is as good as mine. "Now I Am an Arsonist" is a beauty of a song, melancholy and abstract. Coulton has stated that its meaning is intentionally difficult to discern (I personally favor the interpretation that it is about a meteor falling from the sky), though its lyricism nonetheless is immediately evocative and conjures some powerful images. When combined with the raw yet ethereal feel of the acoustic guitar, the song feels almost dreamlike, such was Coulton's intention.

I also find a degree of fascination in Coulton working with Suzanne Vega. Those up-to-date in their digital media history reading will know that Vega is considered "the mother of the MP3" due to her song "Tom's Diner" being an early test of the format's compression. Coulton, being one of the first artists to build his career entirely through the Internet, in part owes his success to the MP3, and by extension Vega. Food for thought.

"You were just an astronaut, floating on a spark
Tearing up the atmosphere, burning down the dark
As you fell in, the heat against your skin
Till it got too bright to se"