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In the past few days this song has carried itself through my room so many times that it can be practically heard in the walls even when it isn't playing. There isn't a song by Hozier that I do not love but I do have favourites, and Shrike has to be one of them. And given the fact that my hyperfixation on Jayvik has taken residence in the deep hallways of my mind, I was unable to stop myself from thinking of them while listening to this song. So, dear reader, enjoy my analysis of the song and my first contribution to Jayvik nation.
If you'd like to listen to the song as you read this I highly recommend the Live at Windmill Lane Studios version.
Shrike is a song conveying the story of someone who could never fully articulate the affection hidden within their ribcage to their lover. The melodic and gentle music stands as a contrast to the not so gentle imagery of the lyrics. And together they wove the tapestry of a love realised too late. That said, it is far from a gentle love - "hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn; by your grounded and giving and darkening scorn." But despite the darkening scorn of their lover, and the image of them as a hunter, they yearn for them, covering them with adoration - "your sharp and glorious thorn." And isn't that the essence of human existence (that is if you believe that everything is, indeed, about love - in any shape or form that it takes)? We love despite knowing that it might never be enough. We love despite knowing that love is a thorn that could impale us.
I couldn't utter my love when it counted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird about it now
The realisation of a love gone by sinks its teeth so deep it meets his very bones as he grieves the lack of affection bestowed upon his lover. All that is left is to wonder what to do with all this grief. Where to put it? Realising he can no longer keep it hidden inside his chest where it might bleed into his liver, he sets it free like a songbird.
Words hung above but never would form
The weight of affection that rests on one's shoulders is like a blanket of warmth. But a blanket is so easy to reshape unless it's carved out of stone. Lovers, like blankets, can also slip away from us if we are unable to convey the feelings we hold for them.
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn
The realisation that crystalises too late. Already after their time has come to an end. It is the realisation that the sadness that now crawls its way into his existence leaves him hollow - a gosh of a person awaiting death so that he could be reunited with his lover once again, and perhaps for the first time in all its intensity.
Remember me, love, when I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn
These have to be some of my favourite lyrics ever written, for they sing of a love greater than romantic love. It is a love closer to devotion. A love that has loved, and has failed, and now it will spend decades yearning and starving - the same way a shrike will starve without its thorn. And despite it all, it is a love that survives like a prayer. It is the devotion that leaves slightly parted lips longing for a kiss. It longs to repent for its mistakes, and it vows to do so in the next life as well.
He knows his lover isn't perfect - a sharp thorn - but as he thinks of them now, he dresses them with light. A glorious thorn. He finds beauty in their flaws and their possible cruelty, for one cannot be without the other. Life is terrifying, so is beauty, and so is love. It is a testament to the fact that he doesn't see his lover as simply one or the other but as a possibility of everything they have ever been and could be to him as he can no longer think of them outside of his love.
Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted All of my goodness is going with you now
Meeting his lover has shaped him into the person he has become - it has filled him with virtue and goodness, for love makes us gentle. And far more often than not, it replaces the sun with a person as they become the sole source of all warmth. And once they are gone, that warmth leaves with them.
Dragging along, following your form Hung like a pelt of some prey you had worn
Here the uncovering of the darkness of his lover takes a firmer shape. Dragging after his lover. Following wherever they want him to go like a prey that has succumbed to its hunter. And unable to move on, hung like a pelt on his lover. With this imagery he paints himself as the victim of their hunt. While the role of his lover as the hunter stands undeniable, he plays the role of the one who remains unmoving in his love far too late of his own accord.
I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted
The urgency of fleeing to a crowded place and burying oneself in the words of countless others rather than constantly grieving so much. The return to his lover - flying free of all past regrets in this new shape that he has been reborn into. To the hedgerows where bodies are mounted as a shrike who relies on its thorn not only to survive but also to fully live.
I was housed by your warmth, thus transformed By your grounded and giving and darkening scorn
Here again he praises his lover's warmth, among others, for transforming him for the better. However, there is also much imperfection to his lover as there was much imperfection to his love. Like a gathering of storming clouds, a profound feeling of disdain hangs above him, thus diming the warmth his lover had previously carved within him.
Remember me, love, when I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn
Despite it all, the affection he has for his lover is of such intensity that he will carry it into his next life. And then he will live as a shrike to their thorn. They will no longer have to seek each other out. There will be no time or place for longing or fear or aching of past mistakes. Even if tomorrow isn't certain, a shrike only needs its thorn.
And is this any different from the story of Viktor and Jayce? Viktor, much like the lover in this song, has been the one to show Jayce that he can take the path that leads him to the magic he has always dreamt of. He showed him that despite the dismissive reaction of everyone, there is someone who believes in his dream. When the world has failed him and drained him of his light, Viktor was the one to relight the fire of his ambition - becoming the pulse Jayce could hold onto instead of succumbing to the shrieking of his doubts. And he was also the one to remind him of the goodness of his intentions. It seems natural then that, when Viktor was taken away from him by death herself, Jayce could only think with a mind clouded by emotion. For how can one stay tender and true to his word with blood staining his hands? When faced with the fact that Viktor could be taken away from him, Jayce was unable to cling to principles - willing to go so far as to bring him back no matter the cost. There is no clearer declaration of selfish love than this. But something is wrong. When Viktor awakes the betrayal is stronger than Jayce’s longing, and so he leaves. It is too late. Jayce has realised his love, as it truly was, once his lover has already been destined to be taken away from him. Viktor leaves, and Jayce waits. One is selfish as he brings his love back, the other selfless as he leaves his love behind. A shrike and a thorn. And then Jayce is thrown into the alternate universe where he becomes prey haunted by the ghosts of the glorious evolution and observed by another version of his lover. Despite all his heartach, he drags himself up to meet him and he devotes his life to amend the mistakes of the past as well as the ones he has yet to let happen. It might have been his selfishness that has caused all this, but it is his selfless devotion that saves them both. And as he holds Viktor through his grief in their final moments together, as he presses their foreheads together, he is not worried for what is about to come next. Even if tomorrow isn’t certain, a shrike only needs its thorn.