The apothecary Info
Lyrics
The apothecary who lived up the stairs, he
descended each Sunday at two
He shuffled the paper and sneezed at the drapery
and took out his scissors and glue.
He’d pick through the personals, sticky, subversive, he’d smell out his next lady friend
He’d invite her for dinner, then ply her with gin or with tea plus the means to his end.
And once in his room,
half asleep in the gloom,
he would keep her with cloves soaked in ether
and silk sheets beneath her
She’d cry out in nightmares,
he’d try out his ignoble narcotic dreams.
With snuffs and with laudanum traces, and stout leather braces in five point restraints —
He soundproofed the chamber for the moments she came to, so no one would hear her complaints.
But then, in confusion,
distracted while choosing decoctions,
He picked the wrong option —
injected a toxin that woke her,
she bellowed and broke her way free
and we all heard her screams.
Then, when the constable came, he covered her shame as he whispered a prayer.
His forehead was glistening, the tenement listening to stories of what happened there.
Story
Recorded April, 2004, on an evening when the baby wasn’t home so I could set up mikes in the nursery and sing loud after dark.
I love the toy piano and I love the accordion. I wanted to do a song that exemplified what I love most about those instruments that was still within my ability to play them. This is, I think, my first song about a serial killer (or, at least, a serial killer type) that’s not based on a real case. Well, I started out thinking of Herman Mudgett, but the song went elsewhere. I was also thinking of the Decembrists (the band, not the political movement), which should be obvious from the sound of it. I mean, it’s kind of working-class Victorian, and in a minor key.