At first glance, "Easy People" seems to be a song of joy. As the song begins, we are greeted with dulcet "heys" and "oohs" floating familiarly over a deceptively simple guitar progression. This haunting lullaby, along with the opening lyrics, transports us immediately to an intimate and comforting world: "We sat around the table and we drank a bottle of wine / And it poured around us like a moat so no one could get us / And I was fine." This paints an appealing world indeed, a place where the problems of the real mad world can't touch the characters, and they are just purely blissfully happy.

The speaker goes on to say "I choose you to take up all of my time / I choose you because you're funny and kind / I want easy people from now on." "Easy" might seem like an elusive adjective for a person, but it's surprisingly simple: synonyms for the word "easy" itself include simple, uncomplicated, undemanding, laid-back, and comfortable. At the essence, this is exactly what the speaker has chosen: a person who is empathetic and caring and just pleasurable to be with, without any unnecessary complications. Again, this rings with content: she has "paid her dues," suffered her hardships, and has finally found the very kind of person that she longs for. Everything is perfect.

What makes this song so powerful, however, is that everything is not perfect; underneath the blissfulness, dark shadows lurk. The line that grabs and holds me is the singer's plaintive "Why can't I be easy?" Suddenly, in this beautiful world, we discover an underlying emptiness only hinted at in "empty rooms and broken frames" of the previous verse. Musically, the song doesn't change here: it doesn't become drastically depressing and minor. It is sung with the same sweet smoothness. Yet there is a catch in the singers' voices, and afterward, the chords are played a little more harshly, with the imperceptibly chillier electric guitar taking the lead.

Later in the song, she sings that she would give "the songs I write, the words I pray, the morning light / That pumps into this room today / If you would only rise, if you would only say, 'I want you….'" Again, even within the purest expressions of devotion there lies a hint of unfathomable sadness as she admits that she is not easy people herself. How wrenching to not find in yourself the one thing that you desire in others! It also raises the question of whether the other person is even truly easy at all, or if the values that she wants are just a Platonic form, impossible to achieve, and she is merely romanticizing her perfect partner. This would make it even more heart-breaking.

It is this double-edged sword of happiness and sadness, the tension between utter fulfillment and sheer self-dissatisfaction, which is so fascinating and beautiful. This duality makes the narrator complicated and three-dimensional and wholly human, creating a speaker whom everyone can to relate to powerfully. The music echoes this tension, as the melody flows on, reassuringly rhythmic, even as doubt begins to creep into the listener's mind that all is completely well.

Despite ­ or perhaps because of ­ the lurking shadows within the more apparent blissful fulfillment, I can't hear this song and be left with anything but happiness and wholeness. The darkness simply adds another layer, accentuating the fullness and complexities lying deep within the song. The overall joy and sincerity of "Easy People" in spite of the realistic admission of imperfection never fails to overwhelm and fill me, weaving its way into my being.

© 2003