ABBA's Mamma Mia

I've given myself the task of writing about one song a week for 2024 because, well, I think it'd be fun.

ABBA's Mamma Mia

This seemed the appropriate song to write about upon getting halfway through the year.

We have finally arrived at the greatest song of western civilization. We have no need to continue making music; we merely do it to indulge ourselves, for there will be no greater after. This is the successor of Mozart and Beethoven. This is the pinnacle, ABBA's "Mamma Mia".

I love this song so much that, even though this is complete exaggeration for the sake of a joke, I'm not taking that statement back. Sure it's a joke, but there's a lot of truth contained in that joke.

Alright, let's dial it down.

It's easy to make fun of ABBA. Part of it may come from their Swedish background. I can't say much for the Swedish language, but English is a language where inflection and tone are extremely important in conversation. The Swedish accent is sanded entirely on the guttural / ullulating parts of the language, so when you hear the lyrics sung...well, perfectly, polished like porcelain, you feel like it's sung by aliens. ABBA's spangled clothing does not help, nor the fact that ABBA is hyper-anglicized - all of the band members had tried their hand at English songs, Björn began in a skiffle group, and Benny wrote nominees for Eurovision. For some, ABBA was trying too hard to make hits. They lacked the danger that was hinted at other pop hits at the time, as in Springsteen, Peter Gabriel.

But that's why I like ABBA: they're not pretending to any dangerousness. There's no desire to be "bigger than Jesus". They lacked swagger because they didn't feel like stealing from black artists (/s). If they were lame, they were lame, but they didn't think of themselves as lame. For ABBA, the music was everything. The voice was merely another instrument. With Agnetha and Anni-Frid, the human voice was their best instrument.

For most '80s songs, you can probably pinpoint the element that acts as the scaffolding for the entire song. For Gabriel's "Sledgehammer", it's the drum track and bass. "Born in the U.S.A.", the drum, again, and the synth. We English speakers are minimalists, clearly; it comes from some infatuation with punk and an optimism that we can just riff on top of the beat (again, something we stole from black people (/s)). As you move east of England, however, you arrive at Germany, Austria, the Czech Republic, the homes of Schubert, Chopin, Mozart, composers who emphasized harmony. Talking about "Mamma Mia" now, there's no element alone that's essential to the song apart from all the others, whether it's the marimba, the guitar riff, the chorus. (It's notable there's no showy vocal performance by either of the two lead singers. What an anomaly compared to modern radio.)

The marimba takes time. It's the, painful, ticking of the hours as noted by our heroine; it also represents inevitability, as the ticking of a bomb, which detonation coincides with that soaring riff, that instantly memorable dun-na-na-nuhhhh, dun-na-na-na-na. I had noted before that the guitar is the sound of adventure, the sound of diverging from the pattern. In this case the riff is the sudden jump of the heart.

So begin the greatest lyrics ever put onto paper:

I've been cheated by you since I don't know when,
so I made up my mind, it must come to an end.
...Look at me now, will I ever learn?
I don't know how, but I suddenly lose control -
there's a fire within my soul.

That first line seems to trick a lot of cover artists. The "don't" isn't one beat; it's stressed, but sung by Agnetha and Anni in such a way that we the audience barely perceive it, which is kind of incredible. It sometimes gets replaced by "I've been cheated by you, and I think you know when" which I think matches the song's beat better.

But it's an inferior substitute, by far. The "I think you know when" is very passive-aggressive. This is a song about helplessness. It doesn't matter how upset the singer is; what matters is the inevitable flush of love, as inevitable as the chorus. That interesting bit about "a fire within my soul" depicts love as something coincident and separate with the singer, where usually love is something the singer does or feels.

Then the rush:

Just one look, and I can hear a bell ring!
One more look, and I forget everything!

with Benny and Björn joining, almost as if they were Greek gods of love themselves.

The chorus:

Mamma mia, here I go again,
my my, how can I resist you?
Mamma mia, does it show again,
my my, just how much I've missed you?

where the instrumentals quieten (only marimba and piano left), the only moment of clarity for our anguished singer.

Post-chorus:

Yes, I've been broken-hearted,
blue since the day we parted,
why, why, did I ever let you go?
Mamma mia, now I really know,
my my, I can never let you go!

accompanied by Janne Schaffer on guitar, almost bluesy in its melancholy yet possessing prog-rock grandeur. The pomposity lies in sadness. Somehow, the sadness is freeing. The other detail is, where the song is usually sung without much emotion - it's almost journalistic in its depiction - the "I could never let you go" is sung in a near-shout, partly in pain, partly in joy. That's what makes the song interesting - we think these two emotions, joy and pain, can't possibly coincide, but somehow ABBA pulls it off. Even I'm quite baffled by it from a philosophical standpoint. I wonder if there's something Christian in it, this acceptance of destiny, no matter how fatal, a kind of Twilight of the Idols.

I should bring attention to that aforementioned idiosyncrasy of the song, that it's sung in a fairly emotionless tone. Anni and Agnetha merely ensure the lyrics are on beat i.e. danceable, which certainly takes skill. I don't know if this is a Swedish thing; I can't imagine Adele singing lyrics with this content in this precise way. But it works, because the song doesn't want to place too much quantity on the singer's misfortunes. What is presented are the facts of a, fictional, story. You are not forced to participate in the song, for it is just a song. But, as I had said for Taylor Swift's "Fortnight", fantasy is crucial: it is an arena in which we can observe heightened emotion, rather than look from our detached realistic view. There is indeed a magical quality to the song - I mean, love so overwhelming it defies logic? well... - but the audience is free to pull whether they want to believe in the fantasy or merely indulge in it. (Some merely hate it.)

We've already gone through the main flow of the song, but I do love the second verse, enough to highlight it:

I've been angry and sad about things that you do;
I can't count all the times that I've told you we're through;
and when you go, when you slam the door,
I think you know, that you won't be away too long,
you know that I'm not that strong.

Great music requires variation on a theme. Variation requires creativity in twofold: to explore new frontiers that the theme hints at, and to reference the theme so as to give the greater song meaning. This describes the first and second verses of "Mamma Mia" perfectly, variations on the same theme executed in different ways. Notice how the verses are the inverses of the other. For the first verse, the first two lines depict the story and the latter lines are introspective, showing the character's inner turmoil; for the second, these are flipped. Then there's the consonants involved, the first verse advancing through those lovely l's in "look", "learn", "control", the second through o's as in "count", "through", go", and the final string of "won't be away too long". The l is a kind of serpent, coiling around the singer, and the o completes the circle.

The song is really about self-discovery, though what is discovered is fairly banal. In fact, the banality is welcomed. Some will take the banality of attraction seriously, and others will take it comically. It serves the song's purpose of acting as a soap opera in three and a half minutes. I mean, the song describes our unbridled and prideful female protagonist, undergoing the painful but enlightening process of humiliation, without any words characterizing her at all. And, even if the object of the quest is tedious, a quest was nevertheless undertaken, and the learning, not the thing learned, is what fascinates the audience. No wonder the song is enough to inspire an entire musical.