Possum Kingdom (track) by The Toadies

From Space-Dementia 09/03/2015 16:08

This song is so cool. The lyrics are creepy, especially when he's screaming "Do you wanna die?", but I think what definitely adds to the listener's uneasiness is the time signature. It regularly switches between 4/4, 8/4, and 7/4. Sure there's a fair share of good rock songs that have odd signatures, but I just feel like the way that this song keeps switching between time signatures makes you that much more scared of what's going to happen to this girl he's singing about. Fantastic tune.

From soundguardian 11/22/2013 05:50

Disturbing; there's no doubt about that. One must wonder what is this "dark secret" behind the boathouse to which the narrator attempts to draw his audience. Does he intend to lead another innocent victim to her untimely demise? And how is it that she is potentially being efficaciously enticed?

This is what The Toadies were great at: writing extremely creepy or strange songs enveloped by disorienting or course compositions to match tone and texture. Never was this more demonstrative and effective than in this somewhat obscure gemstone "Possum Kingdom" (although probably the most notable and known piece by the band).

The echoes applied to the vocals at the beginning initiate the process of developing a dark aura, while the piece takes on a riff to die for and occasional blaring electric guitars that ring alarmingly. These echoes are revisited at the tail-end, and these two things (aside from the lyrics) are probably the most innovative aspects of “Possum Kingdom”. Overall, the entire piece, although over five minutes long, is tightly structured to justify that length. There is never a dull moment throughout the piece, which reflects careful composition. But even past the recording process, care was given to every aspect of the editing, mixing, and mastering. The panning of stereo pair to provide spacial reference to all the instruments’ placements is brilliant, and key to the “Possum Kingdom” track’s success as a minor grunge staple.

While he proceeds to tempt her to "be his angel" and to profess that he didn't mean "to scare you, so help me Jesus", it is difficult to believe, considering that contradicts some things said that seem to denote that his intentions are clearly not entirely benevolent. He flatly states he'll "not be a gentlemen", that he desires her "forever" as his "blushing bride", and he makes atypical and bizarre promises, like eternal youth that she'll stay "as beautiful with dark hair and soft skin... forever" and that he'll "treat her well" like his "sweet angel". To the narrator, provided that his temptation is effective, there's no sense of urgency, nor significant variation throughout time. To him, time is suspended, or trivial, unless she spurns him. And from his reference point, she is currently undecided, and the desire that he can obtain her trust or the undesirable outcome that she refuses makes the stakes more relevant, demonstrating that he's probably not yet in a perfect position to commit all of his intentions. He must rely on his power of influence. Some choice of diction and phrasing also says a lot about his intentions. He constantly elevates her to the status of “angel” in beauty, which explicates, probably, not a pure, earnest intention of love, but an infatuation with her splendor. The phrase “blushing bride” is particularly unsettling – is it the natural redness of her cheeks, or is it the application of blush make-up, or… is it the discoloration of her face as he permanently memorializes her lushness with blood or strangle? What is so unordinary about the area behind the boathouse, that he should call it his “dark secret”? Vampirical? Well, it's interesting to think about. But the icing on the cake that proves that this narrator is insane comes in the form of a building climax in which he repeatedly screams "DO YOU WANNA DIE!?". That would be any sane and unaffected person's cue to exit the situation as soon as possible.

When asked about the meaning, Lewis simply stated that the track's lyricism is rooted in Texan folklore, revolving around campfire stories--worthy unexplained circumstances near Fort Worth--adjacent Possum Kingdom Lake. Ok, maybe not vampyres wandering 'round the shadows of Hell's Gate dam area, but it's both an unnerving and surprisingly exhilarating prospect to conceive of some shady figure stalking those oblivious vacationers relaxing on a fine summer evening at their favorite retreat-place, Possum Kingdom. Or seducing someone to her doom at the lakefront. After all, why do people love horror stories and films? There's a "fascination of the abomination" inherent within people that make anecdotes and myths such as this one - whether slightly steeped in reality, or wholly fictional - appealing and entertaining. And so might the narrator's audience be afraid, but intrigued, by what horror and surprise might be awaiting her behind the boathouse.