Song Meaning
Robert Pollard, the prolific bard of Dayton, Ohio, often buries profound anxieties beneath layers of beer-soaked melody and deliberately obtuse lyrics. "And I Don't (So Now I Do)" is no exception. The song circles around a central paradox, a shift in perspective telegraphed by the title itself. It's a study in the psychology of denial, of repressed desires suddenly surfacing. The opening lines, "I crept into a box / Of mesmerizing trinkets / And I probably shouldn't think it / And I don't, so now I do," suggest a forbidden curiosity, a Pandora's Box scenario where suppressed thoughts and yearnings are unleashed.
Pollard juxtaposes images of confinement ("a box," "a foxhole") with a yearning for something more tangible, or perhaps simply *something*. The lines "I don't drive a good car / Or a bargain, so now I do" hint at a dissatisfaction with the hand he's been dealt, a sudden awakening to material desires previously dismissed. This isn't necessarily about greed; it's about recognizing a void. The repeated refrain, "Here's what I have done for you / A life on the run, a foxhole and a gun / A roof that blocks out the view," paints a picture of sacrifice and hardship, perhaps even a self-imposed exile.
The core of the song meaning resides in the tension between what's been rejected ("I never had one, I didn't want one") and what is now embraced ("And I don't, so now I do"). It speaks to the human capacity for self-deception, the stories we tell ourselves to justify our choices. Pollard isn't necessarily endorsing this shift; he's simply observing it, dissecting the moment when denial crumbles and a new, perhaps uncomfortable, truth emerges. The "ooh" at the end adds a layer of sardonic resignation, as if acknowledging the futility of fighting against one's own changing desires.
