Rusholme Ruffians Meet Carnival Girl:American Folk (Cliff Eberhardt) & English Rock (The Smiths)

Today’s MonDevotion (my companion site which uses song lyrics as devotions) is about Cliff Eberhardt . While I’m less familiar with Eberhardt than other folk singers, I love his songcraft and his way of revealing characters in his lyrics. The devotion is about “The Devil in Me” from 12 Songs of Good & Evil,” an album which also has the song, “Carnival Girl.”

Today “Carnival Girl” meets “Rusholme Ruffians.” “Rusholme Ruffian” by The Smiths from Meat is Murder is connected with Eberhardt’s song in the carnival/fair atmosphere, the way the fair draws us in but the way it also can reveal such darkness in our lives.


Morrissey and Marr’s “Rusholme Ruffians” is a jaunty song of acoustic guitar and Andy Rourke’s bumpy-poppy bass line—like the atmosphere of the fair, the rides and games, the lights and fun. Yet, Morrissey can’t be contained by the surface-level brightness of the fun fair. The song explores a woman’s search for love in those whirling rides, the violence of fights that break out, and the desire for money. A girl doesn’t find love in all of this, and she contemplates using a carnival ride to commit suicide.

Eberhardt’s “Carnival Girl” is a waltzing step inside that similar tension between the fun of the fair and the dark, tempting swirl of late nights, strangers, games, flirting, and the one-night stand predicated by the gypsy-like movement of the fair from town to town. Who is being conned—the speaker or the carnival girl? Eberhardt’s lyrics, from the perspective of someone who hooked up with the carnival girl, betray that even while the carnival girl seems to be taking advantage, the speaker also is indulging in this short-term relationship.

Even now as the county fairs and amusement parks and carnivals begin across the Upper Midwest, there’s that pull of the klieg lights, the ringing bells, the classic rock from cracked speakers, the dust of the dirt track races, the over-sized stuffed animals, the promise of a good night kiss becoming something more.

I imagine the characters in “Rusholme Ruffians” crossing paths with those in “Carnival Girl.” Morrissey speaks about the more adolescent dramas played out on the fairgrounds—unrequited loves, brawls, sneak peaks beneath skirts, and hope in the grandness of love everafter. Eberhardt moves behind the counter to the more adult wilderness of the carneys and those they meet in each new town—serious flirting, invitations to trailers at closing time, loneliness of the road, adventure and promise found in a stranger, the con game. So even while our adolescent heroine watches the ruffians brawl and wonders about scratching the name of her true love on her arm, the Carnival Girl is making her move and so is Eberhardt’s character. Will all of these characters still sing with Morrissey in the morning, “My faith in love is devout?”

Of course, the contrast is that Morrissey’s adolescent explorations reveal that teenage hope that every relationship will be THE ONE. This is only further emphasized by The Smiths’ common introduction to “Rusholme Ruffians” in concert, using a section from Elvis’ “(Marie’s the Name) His Latest Flame.” Each new flame is a new hope of living happily ever after. Eberhardt’s characters are instead so worldly, so “grown up,” so calloused by love that they realize this carnival love aren’t going to last. Carnival love is carnal love.

Yet, I’m so calloused as to believe that all that much separates these two different kinds of love. I think we’re all searching for true love, true companionship, true devotion, true security in a relationship. Even though we might dress it up in a jaunty, waltzing tune, pass it off as just a night at the fair, we’re still hoping that the love will become more serious.

Ah, maybe this carnival season will be the one when our assembled characters meet each other, wise up, reveal their true hearts, and really find love instead of amusement park ride.

For more on The Smiths, see the original Music Spectrum posting.