Smoke 'Em if you Got 'Em. You've been cautioned.
Steely Dan’s album ‘Aja’ is a musical masterpiece.
Critics to this day consider it one of the greatest Rock albums, but it’s almost an insult to call the album, and this title track, Rock. No offense to those about to. Yes, the jazz fusion is brilliant, but also organic, so it is something different. This is another genre. Another place and time. I’ll come back to that, but first, some perfunctory observations:
Table of Contents
- Introduction
- The Making of ‘Aja’
- Exploring the Title Track
- Interpreting the Lyrics
- An In-Depth Musical Journey
- Masterpiece Unveiled
Introduction
Steely Dan’s ‘Aja’ is a legendary album that continues to mesmerize music enthusiasts with its jazz-influenced soundscapes and intricate compositions.
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The Making of ‘Aja’
Donald Fagen and Walter Becker’s meticulous approach to songwriting and production, along with the collaboration of top-notch session musicians, including Paul Simon, shaped the unique sound of ‘Aja.’ So this is really an orchestral piece, not mere Rock.
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Exploring the Title Track
‘Aja’ stands out as a complex and mesmerizing piece, featuring a blend of jazz harmonies and exceptional instrumental performances that elevate it to a realm of its own. From the delicate beginning, it just expands into space, inner, not outer.
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Interpreting the Lyrics
Here’s where it gets interesting.
The enigmatic lyrics of ‘Aja’ add another layer of intrigue to the song, inviting listeners to delve into its veiled meaning and unravel the narrative behind the music.
Up on the hillPeople never stareThey just don’t careChinese music under banyan treesHere at the dude ranch above the seaAjaWhen all my dime dancin’ is throughI run to you
Up on the hillThey’ve got time to burnThere’s no returnDouble helix in the sky tonightThrow out the hardwareLet’s do it rightAjaWhen all my dime dancin’ is throughI run to you
Up on the hillThey think I’m okayOr so they sayChinese music always sets me freeAngular banjoesSound good to meAjaWhen all my dime dancin’ is throughI run to you
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An In-Depth Musical Journey
From the captivating introduction to the mesmerizing instrumental sections, ‘Aja’ takes listeners on a musical, poorly marked path, filled with poetic ambiguities, intricate melodies, and per usual, exceptional musicianship.
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Masterpiece Unveiled, Kinda
‘Aja’ emerges as a true masterpiece in Steely Dan’s discography, showcasing the band’s unparalleled creativity, musicality, and ability to transport listeners to a world of sonic beauty.
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Now, The Overthought Review
First, we have to inspect the lyrical elephant in the room, Aja, when all my dime dancin’ is through, I run to you. So, FYI, dime dancing is an archaic reference to “dancing on a dime,” on one exact spot, as intimately as it gets. It’s guttural, really. Sexual. Superficial. Not emotional. Not heartfelt. So to me, it’s the transition of an overly excited boy into an awakened man who doesn’t just habitually return home, but runs back to her, like a recurring dream, because she is just that – his illusion of the perfect woman. Soulmate level. What is romanticized and promised, but never attained, if we are honest.
In fact, if you listen carefully to the narrative arc of Donald Fagan’s 1982 first solo album, “The Nightfly,” (which happens to be the first DDD album release ever [Peter Gabriel’s is not released until 1984]) it is rife with broken promises, and our weary protagonist is left in the blindingly painful spotlight of fact, sans fiction. In the liner notes, Fagan alludes to a lifetime of disillusionment, starting as a child, spinning 45s in the attic, DJing to himself the love stories embedded in countless grooves of black vinyl. Check out the cover art and you’ll see – it is him – sequestered, cocooned within that never ending illusion, a time loop, and alone, except for his music. His one-way conversation with strangers over airwaves. Note the time on the clock. Nightfly indeed. In fact, if we do our due diligence and check the dictionary, “Moth that flies in the night.” Except this moth, always orbiting a false light-bulb, never arriving, can do nothing else. He is trapped – always has been – always will be.
I hear you. OK. Valid point. But if we check out the editor’s note:
Obviously the editor is another Nightfly, of the Nightfly, like yours truly.
Except now, the boy is… a man. A disillusioned man. A very lonely man. Abandoned. Overnights, again, DJing, but now to others. Transmitting his messages of love, and loss. Cautionary tales for those listening. He is the Nightfly, but back in time, to his childhood years. Look at the cover art and you’ll quickly see it indeed was not 1980, but a point in the past, in time, where he remains frozen, fixed, on a damn dime.
But, I digress.
I have read interviews in which Fagan describes Aja as a composite of all of those who “got away.” Read the lyrics of the “Nightfly” album and you’ll sense his loss and disappointment in how his life turned out. How his hallucinations of the world that he was promised have long since gone up in a puff of smoke, like one of those endless Chesterfield Kings. What a dirty trick. In fact, on that title track, he momentarily speaks of his lost loves, and then addresses them, directly. “It was you,” Aja, it was you. And tonight, like every night, his extinguished flame is still, eternally, on his mind, among so many other tricks of the… night.
And my dad disdained my English major
His references to all things Asian in “Aja,” including the very pronunciation, are not clues. They are the elegance and higher love which he never attains. His Aja is even a study in veiled black and dreamy splashes of color on the album cover, shrouded in that darkness, the concealing shadows, of his eternal distance from her, from the ideal, from all those promises, fables, of his youth.
“Aja” is truly a masterpiece built upon layers of hidden meaning and complexity, all too difficult or painful to fully recall let alone articulate, because then those phantasms become real, haunting, at best. At first glance, the song may seem like a simple tale of lost love and nostalgia, but upon closer examination, it becomes clear that there are deeper motifs at play.
One of the key themes in “Aja” is the idea of perfection and idealism. The lyrics describe a mysterious and elusive woman named Aja, who embodies all the qualities of perfection and beauty. The protagonist of the song is captivated by her and embarks on a quest to find her, only to realize that she is always and forever out of reach. This theme of unattainable perfection speaks to the universal human desire for something greater than what is within our grasp. That goddamn brass wedding ring, always just out of grasp.
Another important theme in “Aja” is the concept of memory and nostalgia. The song is filled with references to the past, to places and memories that hold a special significance for the protagonist. In the chorus, he sings, “Up on the hill, / They think I’m okay / Or so they say,” which suggests a sense of detachment from the present and a longing for a time gone by. All of Fagan’s work looks backward, sunken in bitter-sweetness. This theme of nostalgia is further emphasized by the intricate musical arrangement of the song, which evokes a sense of melancholy, longing, dashed hopes, emotional tragedy.
The title of the song, “Aja,” is itself laden with meaning. In various cultures, the name Aja is associated with power, mystery, and spirituality. In Hindu mythology, Aja is a masculine name that means “immortal” or “unborn,” while in Yoruba culture, Aja is a god of the forest and guardian of the animals. By choosing this name for the song, Fagan adds a layer of mysticism and significance to the narrative, suggesting that Aja is more than just a romantic interest, but a symbol of something greater, a story more profound and worth telling.
The lyrics of “Aja” are also filled with cryptic references and allusions. In the second verse, the protagonist sings, “Chinese music under banyan trees / Here at the dude ranch above the sea,” which paints a vivid picture of a scene that is both exotic and surreal. The mention of Chinese music and banyan trees evokes a sense of mystery and other-worldliness, while the juxtaposition of the serene dude ranch with the tumultuous sea hints at a deeper conflict or tension within the protagonist. And don’t get me started on his intentional reference to that specific tree: “The banyan fig tree (has) aerial roots, which sprout from branches and eventually reach the soil.” Fagan is that moorless arbol, always reaching for terra firma, but instead adrift, cast away, in constant, endless disorientation.
OK, I’ll Calm the Hell Down. My Bad.
Another one of the striking features of “Aja” is its musical composition. The song is eight minutes long, not exactly radio-friendly, but yet it spent a long time in heavy rotation. Sixty weeks on the charts, peaking at #3. And nobody ever noticed its length because like any writer worth his salt, Fagan entranced us, drew us in, like that incessant light bulb, and held on tightly, at least to us, his listeners, a poor substitute for his truest of loves,. But again, he was frozen there, in that tiny spot, on a dime, grinding the needle against so many records, chain-smoking like the fiend he has become, and subsiding off scalding hot, pitch-black java. Hold the sugar – he’s had enough.
As with all Steely Dan sonic art, “Aja” features a complex arrangement of jazz, rock and fusion elements. The intricate guitar solos, lush harmonies, and intricate rhythms create a sense of grandeur and sophistication that complements the lyrics perfectly. The musical complexity of “Aja” mirrors the emotional complexity of the narrative, highlighting the protagonist’s inner turmoil and eternal longing. They braid together and we too are forever bound to, trapped with, him.
The bridge of “Aja” features a dreamy, ethereal section that contrasts with the rest of the song. The lyrics, “We’ll clean the teeth of the tiger,” suggest a sense of danger and defiance, as if the protagonist is determined to confront his fears and overcome obstacles in order to reach her, Aja. But ironically, that is an empty promise to an empty room. This adds a sense of drama and tension to the song, highlighting the protagonist’s determination and existential failure to launch.
“Aja” is no song. It’s a tapestry lovingly but painfully woven for us to behold, one that is rich in hidden meanings, complexities, evocative lyrics, intricate musical arrangement, and those cryptic references. Fagan weaves a tale of the realization of the unattainable perfection that never did nor ever will exist. Aja need not be a woman. It could be a place, too distant, too remote for him. Or it could be the idealism he still clings to, runs to, when the real world resembles nothing like his dashed dreams. One can dream, even if only nightmares.
Then again, it could be just a killer rock song by Steely Dan, that band you adore, but you just can’t put your finger on why…
