#mmith analysis

Metaphors, baby, Metaphors!

The title itself is a metaphor and a core one at that. The term Meet Me in the Hallway purposefully mirrors the saying Meet Me in the Middle. This song has an intense tinge of a plea — specifics, the plea to reconnect and resolve unfinished business, to find a compromise. But, one party is always hurting more than the other. Per usual though, let's go a bit deeper. A hallway is a temporary, empty place to be stuck in. It's used to reach a destination but is never the destination itself. This is such a key detail in the perspective of the song. It's torturous, to be stuck in this limbo, never reaching the point he longs for, always being pushed back down on this hallway floor. It's a form of stagnancy, and one can easily spiral if left to their own devices in such circumstances.

There's another metaphor at work, a pretty big and overarching one — comparing love to addiction. I definitely think Meet Me in the Hallway is about love, but, more so, the loss of it. As many have vocalized one time or many, love can feel like a drug. Enveloped in the moment, it can make one see the world differently, and maybe it can even take your pain away. But, so easily, one can become reliant, and dependent, finding themselves immersed in the withdrawal pains when it's snatched away from them all at once. Essentially, that's what this song encompasses and illustrates — the withdrawal. Partnered with the bargaining, standing in the metaphorical space between closeness and distance. Trying to find a way to meet halfway physically and emotionally in a desperate effort to take the pain away. He needs them, and can't live without them, even as they mutilate him.

A last thing to mention is not really a metaphor, but more a running theme across his works that is always going to be prevalent — miscommunication. There's a significant struggle with lack of communication, now also highlighting bad coping mechanisms. Both, as one comes to see, find themselves in recurrence of this debut album of his.

Lyric Pull Apart

[INTRO] Two, three, four...

Something so decadent to the ear, but simultaneously so devastating to the gut. I love how this song — and the debut album — starts off with a hushed counting off. Starting with a hushed tone gives an intimacy to it, something so intriguing, as this opener chronicles a loss of intimacy.

[VERSE 1] Meet Me in the Hallway Meet Me in the Hallway I just left your bedroom Give me some morphine Is there any more to do?

Meet Me in the Hallway: Again, this is a rearrangement of the plea to meet me in the middle. Stopped at this first line to digest, but this is only the first in many moments of begging to work it out, interwoven with many pleas of wanting to get better and get better — but still finding oneself stuck in the hallway, stuck in the in-between, with no direction as to where to head to get to the destination at the end. A small detail I feel like people always miss is how his vocals echo, solidifying that particular image of him down and out. Sitting out in the hallway, back up against the wall, maybe with the head tilted back too — pleading in withdrawal.

Meet Me in the Hallway / I just left your bedroom: Just like the hallway is a metaphor, the bedroom is one as well. Take the setting and turn it into poetics. The bedroom is considered an intimate space, yes? The speaker's walked out, there's been a separation of intimacy, and is on his way out into the cold, but isn't all the way out. Remember, the hallway is an in-between space, always a method to the destination but never the destination itself. He's stuck in this agonizing leeway, and maybe he keeps returning back to them on his own or they keep convincing him, even with the knowledge that this addiction is detrimental to him on all levels.

There's some hidden detail just in the way it's phrased. I just left your bedroom gives some backstory. They were recently together and intimate, maybe an unwritten this will be the last time we do this (but they said that the last time, and the time before that). Inserting an emotional distance, but concurrently physical. And, back to bouncing off the bedroom metaphor, the relationship could be in such a place where the speaker feels like a stranger, like he's no longer welcome. Lost intimacy.

I just left your bedroom, this specification of "yours", as it's not his or theirs together. Again, lost intimacy. Marking the bedroom as the other party's in turn sets the other one's rules in place. The speaker has no sense of control, which can serve as a double meaning. No control in the relationship, but, at the same time, losing control of the self. The hallway is something more neutral, less intimate, a stark contrast to the bedroom — and that's where the speaker's been thrown.

Give me some morphine: Morphine is not only a pain medication, but it's also extremely addictive. Could this be him begging for it as the only close substitute to come close to the effect this person's love has/had on him? The love that's been ripped away? Here, and written in the undertone of the song's beginning to end, is a sense of hopelessness. This person's love is a drug to him, so he's bringing in another addictive drug to try and supplement. And, like much incorporated in this song, it's injected with metaphor — a simple one, more broadened, trying to search for the supplement to ease the pain. A supplement to the other who left him in urgency for something to take the pain away. It suggests that the speaker has fallen into a state of desperation, seeking any form of escape from the agony, even if unhealthy and just as destructive.

Is there any more to do?: Hopelessness! This song chronicles a moment of anguish, grasping at straws to try and salvage the intimacy and relationship, not wanting to lose the one who's taking the pain away. Even with the knowledge it might not be healthy, and even with the knowledge it's only a temporary solution. He's become dependent. And finds himself in the weakest state.

[CHORUS] Just let me know, I'll be at the door, at the door Hoping you'll come around Just let me know, I'll be on the floor, on the floor Maybe we'll work it out I gotta get better, gotta get better I gotta get better, gotta get better I gotta get better, gotta get better And maybe we'll work it out

Just let me know, I'll be at the door, at the door / Hoping you'll come around: I see this chorus as a surrender, a fall from grace on the hallway floor. The chorus' repetition captures this essence, I believe. He's ready to take the person back whenever they are willing. He's right at the door — trying to get closer to the past intimacy of the bedroom — ready to try and work it out, to try and meet in the middle, and push down the pain they've caused him. But will it ever really be forgotten? And he's hoping, even whilst drowning in hopelessness. It's on the other person to come around, for maybe he has run dry, exhausted. Stuck in the silence, the waiting.

Just let me know, I'll be on the floor, on the floor / Maybe we'll work it out: He's on the hallway floor, as all of his guards and dignity have fallen limp. Not putting up any fights to the withdrawal and pain, but rather letting himself succumb to the emotion. Surrendering himself to an addictive love, even if it's destined to harm him in the end. And he's saying maybe we'll work it out. Hoping, maybe, very tentative and insecure in his diction — like he's been in this same spot of desperation before. He's experienced the come down from the high too many times. Yet, a small part of him will still go back. He'll still fall to his knees if the other party welcomes him back in. Again, still a small part of him that tries to hope amid the hopelessness.

The lines before these and the two here now mirror each other, and there's an intention to that. When one's in despair, spiraling within yourself, you can repeat oneself over and over to try and communicate the tortured spot one's in. Repeating the same point again and again, even if phrased a little differently.

I gotta get better, gotta get better [x3]: What was that about repetition? It could be just for rhythmic purposes, granted, but it feels like it's something told to himself, repeating it like a mantra. A mantra that reflects both a personal struggle to heal and a stronghold on the aspiration to improve the situation with the other party. And it's sung in almost a yell, and very self-chastising. He's placing himself at fault, this confession into how he feels — and, because of the urgency the repetition evokes, it could be something that's been plaguing him, weighing him down to the floor. Maybe he knows he's not been handling things well, like one would with a drug addiction, and needs to get better to work it out. Even if it's not a guarantee. And, once more, the repetition, in this section and in other moments of the song, pushes forward the feelings of hopelessness, desperation, and even submissiveness.

[VERSE 2] I walked the streets all day Running with the thieves 'Cause you left me in the hallway (Give me some more) Just take the pain away

I walked the streets all day / Running with the thieves: These lyrics continue along the path of melancholy and introspection, and the sense of solitude is further painted. The speaker is wandering hopelessly, searching for something to replicate his drug — much like how substance abusers spend their days walking the streets looking for more. Then. Any saying that includes "running with the..." implies associating oneself with a group of people without necessarily identifying within it. A thief is someone who seeks something they don't possess. In this song, he's waiting desperately for someone who isn't returning back to him, so he feels the connection to the thieves — he seeks something he no longer possesses.

There's also an air of reminiscence to Liam Sparkes' quote in Another Man, speaking of tattooing Harry's butterfly:

"The butterfly on his torso is based on an old French prison tattoo inspired by Papillon. Traditionally, it would mean the wearer is a thief — something to do with the double meaning of 'Je vole', which translates as both 'I steal' and 'I fly'." — Liam Sparkes

This can bring in some more theorization of symbolism, as butterflies can represent someone's yearning for freedom or metamorphosis. He's been trapped in this metaphorical prison, in the hallway setting, for so long that he dreams of running with the thieves as a sense of freedom. Even if that freedom is self-destructive, it would still be freedom from this hopelessness and melancholia. Then, the illusion of metamorphosis, where he thinks these bad coping mechanisms will give him the feeling of open wings, but he's just shot down instead. The dichotomy and this could be a stretch, I fear, but I like sharing anyhow.

Running with the thieves could indicate he's let himself get carried away by things around him, to take his mind off the pain, engulfing himself in self-destructive things. Almost like he's fallen into the dramatic justifying thoughts: What's the point of anything if this love is lost? If the one I love won't let me in, might as well throw my entire self away. With this withdrawal of losing intimacy and connection with the other person, there's a lack of meaning to anything he does. So why not go and run about? Indulge himself in a self-induced ticking time bomb?

'Cause you left me in the hallway (Give me some more) / Just take the pain away: He points the finger to the other person as the cause of his agonizing isolation in the hallway, as they've neglected him in the limbo, for he has no indication of where they stand. He's been left somewhere in the middle of an unfinished relationship, hoping for more. Hoping for the person to take his pain away. And, through all this, I feel there's an indication that he's the only one holding out hope anymore. He blames his irresponsible actions from the lines before on the fact that he's been, again, left in the hallway, framing anything he does destructively as a cause-and-effect phenomenon. Again, the hallway is such a temporary and empty place to be, a way to get to the destination but never the destination itself. If one's standing endlessly in the hallway, especially in a moment of stagnancy with no direction out, you're nowhere meaningful — and that can be torturous.

I love how Give me some more plays off the earlier Give me some morphine, which can be both an emphasis and a branch off, diving deeper into the desperation. Screaming into the echos of the hallway "Give me more!". More effort from the other person, some more hope or signals that would make him believe they're working towards making things better too. And maybe this will take his pain away. Even if that soothing is superficial, he's desperate for something to take it away.

[CHORUS] Just let me know, I'll be at the door, at the door Hoping you'll come around Just let me know, I'll be on the floor, on the floor Maybe we'll work it out I gotta get better, gotta get better I gotta get better, gotta get better I gotta get better, gotta get better And maybe we'll work it out

The chorus returns, with the spiraling repetition and aching. We have the metaphors of the hallway, the bedroom, but what about the door? Each piece of the setting listeners have been placed in holds such symbolism to it. The door could be a metaphor for entering back into the relationship, for the door is what separates the bedroom (intimacy) and the hallway (isolation). He's waiting for their permission for him to open the door and enter the room — circling back to how the speaker's the only one who still wants this companionship. He's the one having the desires, this desperation, a need — but the other person is failing to even meet him in the middle, to meet him in the hallway, even as he's now collapsed on the floor, overtaken by the pains of his withdrawal and melancholy.

[OUTRO] We don't talk about it It's something we don't do 'Cause once you go without it Nothing else will do

We don't talk about it / It's something we don't do: Here we go again, this man and his communication issues. I've said it before, and will probably say it a million more as it's inevitable to come up —struggle with communication is such a common theme across HS1, across his discography entirely. The two of them don't talk about their issues — maybe they're scared that if they start talking about it, it'll be like tugging on a loose thread, only a matter of time before they both unravel. There's a fear of loss, and a fear of having to grieve the companionship, as the love has grown — say it with me now — addictive.

'Cause once you go without it / Nothing else will do: Once he's had a taste of what this person could be for him, how they can take the edge off, he feels that anything and anyone that follows will pale in comparison. Drugs, such as morphine, are so highly addicting that people often feel like they can't live without it and nothing else is as good — after they've felt that surge in their body, or the relief, even if it was illusionary.

Within the confines of Meet Me in the Hallway, in its somber after-hours feel, themes and conceptualizations were set up to be returned to throughout the debut album. This song also has a lot to do with the self, which is fitting to lift the opener of a debut and reintroduction. But this relationship with the self isn't healthy all the time, and I think it's beautiful that we do explore darker themes often in his work. Writing songs can be a form of catharsis, and we are the gifted to be able to hear it, and maybe find our own release.