Wisdom and Folly

Want to see some really inspiring LIVE music videos?

Here is a performance by Nathan “Flutebox” Lee and Beardyman. I can’t decide if this is more remarkable as a music performance or as a circus act. Either way, it’s amazing.

Check out The Tallest Man on Earth performing for the NPR Tiny Desk music series. His name is Kristian Matsson, and he hails from Sweden. He’s a strong guitarist, singer and songwriter who is now promoting his debut album in the States. It’ll be interesting to see what becomes of him.

And this is OK Go playing their song “This Too Shall Pass” with a little help from, uh, their friends. These are the guys who made a You Tube splash a few years back with their treadmill video for “Here it Goes Again.” All of their videos are innovative, but ”This Too Shall Pass” is my favorite.

It’s been another exciting year, and we want to thank you all for reading and, if applicable, posting comments on our blog.  Once again, we would like to close out the year with summary remarks about good and bad stuff related to film, music, books, politics, and family. 

Best Film Experiences:

• Jim:  Slumdog Millionaire, Inglourious Basterds, and The Blind Side. Three very different films with one thing in common: a compelling story.  See my March 2 post for extended comments on Slumdog, and our joint review of Inglourious Basterds in our October 29 post.  As for The Blind Side, I confess that I went to see it begrudgingly, figuring it would subject me to two hours of eye-rolling melodrama.  On the contrary, this simple but powerful film had me in tears the entire evening.  And I’m no sentimentalist…
• Amy:  Jim chose the ones you’ve heard of, so here are a few older ones you might not have seen: 1927 Academy Award winning Sunrise.  I am not a big fan of silent films but this one is amazing, a perfect movie. Another oldie but goodie is The Red Shoes.  Finally, Murder!  I am slowly working my way through all the works of Hitchcock and this was one I marked off the list this year.  It’s classic Hitchcock, which is to say, suspense with heart and soul.  Finally, this one isn’t an oldie, but since I spend a great deal of time watching children’s films I will give a shout out to my friends Charlie and Lola.

Worst Film Experiences: 

• Jim:  Little Children—Three of my pet peeves in contemporary Hollywood films are:  1) stilted dialogue, 2) gratuitous sex scenes, and 3) plotlines that encourage viewers to root for a character to commit adultery.  Well, this movie features all three of these vices.  Some thematic originality or insight into truth might have helped to redeem the film despite these flaws.  But, alas, this one was disappointing down to the last, contrived and implausible, scene.
• Amy:  The Reader, Japanese Story, and Summertime are three that standout in their badness.  There are bad movies which are flawed in one way or another (poor writing, bad acting, etc.) and then there are movies that are faulty on a deeper level; like people who are really smart that you enjoy being with as long as you don’t think about what they are actually saying.  These films would fall into the latter category.

Best Musical Experiences of the Year: 

• Jim:  Wilco (The Album).  Jeff Tweedy & Co. have been making great music since the mid-90s, and their latest effort is more of the same.  2009 is also the year that I discovered the Kings of Leon.  Thanks to Jason Fortner for his insistent introduction to the beauty of the Followill brothers’ musical world.
• Amy:  It isn’t a specific album but I loved my Christmas music this year. One of my faves included Sufjan Stevens Songs for Christmas, “What Child is This” by Andrea Bocelli, and Mary J. Blige and Emmylou Harris’ Light of the Stable.  They all strike the chords of awe, sadness, and rejoicing that I love about the season.

Favorite Songs of the Year:

• Jim:  “Breathe” by U2.  This song slaps you in the face, spins you in circles, then sits you down and caresses you into ecstasy.  What begins as an almost tuneless rapid-fire narrative resolves into one of the most melodically satisfying songs in the U2 repertoire.  Check out that entrancing combo of cello and guitar as well as the memorable lyrical images—e.g., “people born of sound” wearing songs “like a crown” and “the roar that lies on the other side of silence.”  Oh yeah.
• Amy:  See my comments above about Christmas songs.

Jim’s Favorite Sports Moment of the Year:  The season-long dominance of the Saints and Colts (two of my favorite teams), both of whom earned home field advantage throughout the NFL playoffs.  I’m not naïve enough to think both will make it to the Super Bowl (#1 seeds almost never meet in the championship).  But I’m hopeful that one of them will play on Super Sunday.

Jim’s Most Disappointing Sports Moment of the Year:  The Detroit Tigers’ squandering their division lead on the last day of regular season.  It wasn’t so much a moment as a week-long, fated collapse.  Ugh.

Amy’s Best Eating Experience of the Year:  New Orleans’ restaurant Mona Lisa’s eggplant parmesan.  Spicy marinara sauce, crispy eggplant in a creative setting with friendly folks.  And the service is great—at the Mona Lisa everyone is treated like a regular.

Amy’s Worst Eating Experience of the Year:  “Zucchini and Basil Soup.”  In an attempt to cleanse our bodies of toxins, Jim and I did a cleanse diet which excluded all cheese, eggs, wheat, soda, and basically anything you might enjoy eating.  The diet was actually not that bad, but this cold “soup” was definitely the low point.

Most and Least Satisfying Reads of the Year:

• Jim:  Antony Flew’s There is a God, in which the former atheist chronicles his journey to belief in God and masterfully summarizes the three main considerations which prompted him to embrace theism.  I’ve also greatly enjoyed the Arts and Letters Daily blog.  My least satisfying read was Kwame Appiah’s Cosmopolitanism—an attempt to salvage shared moral values while affirming cultural relativism.  I kept waiting for an argument, but it never came.  And until the very end I hoped Appiah would rescue his project from incoherence.  My hopes were never realized.
• Amy:  Elizabeth Gaskell’s Ruth, Charles Dickens’ Little Dorrit and Same Kind of Different as Me were all inspiring.  They just don’t write them like that anymore.  I didn’t like The Girls from Ames.  Also, on three separate occasions, I began reading The Shack, but I couldn’t complete it.  Bad theology and even worse writing.

Political High Point of the Year:  Our hopeful sides want to celebrate the seemingly grass roots movement afoot in our country against government expansion and irresponsibility.  But our cynical sides tell us that it’s all just more talk that will, in the end, be undermined by profiteering.

Political Low Point of the Year:  The revelation that (now former) Green Czar Van Jones was a Marxist…or perhaps the revelation that (now former) White House communications director Anita Dunn was a Marxist sympathizer.  Or (speaking of Marxism?) perhaps the real low point was the health care bill.

Most Outrageous News Events of the Year:  The balloon boy hoax (what can you expect from a couple who would name their kid “Falcon”?) and Bernie Madoff (an appropriate surname, until the Ponzi schemer artist got busted) and climategate (when scientists feel they have to fudge numbers, this should give pause to even the most dogmatic believers in their theory).  Ah, the hits just keep on coming, don’t they?

Our Kids’ Most Memorable Statements of the Year:

Bailey:  “I think cussing is just adults’ way of whining.” 

Sam:  “Dad, just try to name a breakfast cereal I don’t like.”

Maggie:  “I think the wind is God whispering ‘I love you.’”

Andrew:  “I never want to get married, ‘cuz you have to kiss someone every day.”

Most Satisfying Shared Experiences of the Year: 

• Jim:  Walking around the French Quarter together at the ETS conference in November.  Also, our August vacation in Houston with the incomparable Newcomb family. 
• Amy:  Our various bike rides together as a family; also, seeing two of our kids become communicant members of our church and sharing the communion experience with them.

New Year’s Resolutions:

• Jim:  To get to bed before midnight more than half of the time
• Amy: To put Ranch Pringles behind me once and for all

Happy 2010 everyone!  And happy new decade as well!!

It’s the end of the ‘00s, which means it’s time for top ten lists.  Below are my picks for the best albums of the last ten years.  Honorable mentions: Bob Dylan’s Modern Times, The Killers’ Day and Age, Neko Case’s Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, The Strokes, Is This It?, Red Hot Chili Peppers’ By the Way, The Shins’ Chutes Too Narrow, Arcade Fire, Funeral, and Modest Mouse’s Good News for People Who Love Bad News.

10. Aha Shake Heartbreak (2004) – The Kings of Leon Just when it appeared that no one would make a great rootsy, blues-based rock again, the Followill boys arrived on the scene to prove it can still be done…and how.  Aha Shake Heartbreak was the sophomore effort from the Kings of Leon, a marked improvement on their debut which earned critical acclaim in its own right.  These guys are the full package, soulful at every instrument with the chemistry of kin to boot.  This album soars from the start and never lets up.  Highlights:  “King of the Rodeo” and “The Bucket”

9. Ringleader of the Tormentors (2006) – Morrissey For his second album since his return from a seven-year hiatus, the Moz put legendary ‘70s producer Tony Visconti at the helm.  The results lived up to the hype, as Visconti built innovative orchestral elements into most of the song arrangements.  Combined with the fact that the songs were among Morrissey’s strongest compositions ever—both technically and emotionally—it’s no surprise that some critics hailed it as the best ever from the Pope of Mope.  Highlights:  “The Youngest Was the Most Loved” and “In the Future When All’s Well”

8. No Line on the Horizon (2009) – U2 Following two strong but less than groundbreaking efforts, the legends from Dublin looked to find some fresh musical inspiration in the unlikely country of Morocco.  Setting up camp in a studio in Fez, some of the songs on the album bear the marks of Arabic musical influence.  During the long recording process the band invited producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois to make songwriting changes as well in hopes to make the material still stronger.  The results on No Line speak for themselves, as it is the most fresh and inspired U2 album since Achtung Baby.  It is also less commercial than anything they’ve done since Zooropa, which explains the cool reception of the album in some quarters.  But let’s hope this doesn’t discourage the band from further musical exploration.

7. Hail to the Thief (2003) – Radiohead On the heels of their landmark Kid A and Amnesiac albums, what could the Oxford quintet do next?  How about create another masterful album which is even more unified than its predecessors, if only because it’s creative explorations are not as multifarious.  The album also has a discernible theme, which is evident in its title.  And the interpretive Rosetta Stone for the 16-song cycle is “A  Punchup at a Wedding,” where the most sacred of events is marred by a drunken brawl.  For Radiohead the wedding is nature, and human beings are the intoxicated fighters.  A powerful image, even if it does seal Yorke & Co. as misanthropes.  Such a dark theme, however, does not diminish the sheer beauty of this album.  Highlights:  “Go to Sleep” and “Scatterbrain”

6. Retriever (2004) – Ron Sexsmith This unsung Canadian songwriter’s songwriter has yet to make an album that isn’t at least very good.  Retriever features a dozen artful tunes which demonstrate why everyone from Elvis Costello to Paul McCartney count themselves among Sexsmith’s biggest fans.  Producer Martin Terefe effectively created an organic warmth which perfectly reinforces the wistful melancholy of most of the tracks.  Several songs are achingly beautiful.  Some still move me to tears.  Highlights:  “Imaginary Friends,” “For the Driver,” and “Wishing Wells”

5. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002) – Wilco Recorded in 2001, Wilco’s record company, Reprise Records, refused to release the album because of its perceived lack of commercial viability.  Eventually the band was released from their Reprise contract and signed with Nonesuch Records, who released the album the next year.  Naturally, the album sold like hotcakes.  It’s a brooding, sometimes dark record with plenty of atmospherics and interesting turnarounds.  Probably the very things that turned off the Reprise execs are what turned on listeners.  So much for the convergence of market sense and aesthetic sensibility.  If you haven’t discovered the raw rock paradise of Jeff Tweedy and friends, this album is a good place to start.  Highlights:  “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” and “Pot Kettle Black”

4. Neon Bible (2007) – Arcade Fire After the critical exultation over their first album, Funeral, most fans of the indie band Arcade Fire braced themselves for a let down with their follow-up.  But Neon Bible proved to be even stronger than their debut.  Both albums are melodically and emotionally rich, but Neon Bible is more mature in terms of lyrical vision.  The album’s abiding theme of spiritual angst is especially compelling, with several songs wrestling with the realities of sin, death, and redemption.  Highlights: “Intervention” and “The Well and the Lighthouse”

3. Return to Cookie Mountain (2006) – TV on the Radio This unique outfit from Brooklyn, New York blends progressive rock, jazz, hip-hop, and electronica.  The song’s lush textures, thanks to the production wizardry of band guitarist Dave Sitek, reward repeated listening.  Layers of melodies, rhythms, and vocalisms create a unique and hypnotizing soundscape for stream of consciousness lyrical explorations.  One of the album’s standouts, “Wolf Like Me,” is quite possibly the song of the decade.  Other highlights: “Hours,” “A Method,” and “Dirthywhirl”

2. Love and Theft (2001) – Bob Dylan Just prior to the album’s release, the Bobster was quoted as saying Love and Theft felt like a greatest hits album.  This seemed like pre-release hype at the time, but he turned out to be correct.  Each song feels like a classic, whether the style is rockabilly, swing, bluegrass, parlor jazz, or blues.  Dylan and his band—featuring the incomparable tandem of Charlie Sexton and Larry Campbell—move effortlessly from genre to genre, humbly serving each tune.  Lyrically, Dylan is at the top of his game—which is no small boast—spinning captivating yarns, tossing off wise proverbs, telling jokes, and creating an abiding feeling of riverboat adventure and Old South nostalgia.  All in all, a flawless album.  And to think he did it as a man in his sixties.

1. Kid A / Amnesiac (2000-01) – Radiohead Okay, so these are two albums rather than one, but I’m combining them because all of the music was recorded during the same sessions.  The band didn’t want to release it all on one double-length CD, so they divided the songs into two separate albums.  In actuality, it’s more like a time-released double album, with half of the songs appearing about six months after the others.  The novelty of the release format only hints at the originality of the music itself, which felt at the time—and in many ways still does feel—as if it had been recorded in the year 2050 and sent back to our time to blow our minds.  Amazingly, the albums have “aged” well.  The truth is, as with all great music, it doesn’t seem to age at all.  Kid A highlights:  “Optimistic” and “Idioteque”; Amnesiac highlights:  “I Might Be Wrong” and “Knives Out”

Reflections by Jim of different sorts—on music, nature, books, and sports

In the last few weeks I have attended two excellent concerts.  On September 12 I saw U2 in Chicago, as they commenced their 360° tour—a predictably fine show by the beloved Irish foursome. This was my fifth time to see them live, and while falling short of the magic of the Joshua Tree tour (what could live up to that?), they remain the greatest live band on the planet.  Also, last week I attended my first Kings of Leon show—at the Verizon Center in Noblesville, Indiana.  Lead singer Caleb Followill said it was the biggest crowd they’d ever played for.  Indeed, it was a sprawling sea of humanity, half of us slip-sliding in the muddy lawn area.  K.O.L. played a strong 20-song set, living up to their reputation as the heir-apparent to U2’s throne.  We’ll see about that.

Last week Amy and I were back in Chicago, this time for her best friend’s wedding.  We stayed high atop the downtown Holiday Inn overlooking the Chicago River.  Just outside our 17^th story window an Orb Weaver spider (Araneidae family) was perched in the middle of a giant web, which we measured at 3 x 2.5 feet.  Judging by the spider’s bulky appearance, s/he had managed to catch plenty of bugs way up there.  Early the next morning I marveled at the massive buildings in downtown Chicago.  In doing so, I looked through that Orb Weaver’s giant web, and then it struck me.  Both were magnificent feats of engineering, and they shared some of the same structural features: footings, girders, and symmetrical design.  And both ultimately testify to the genius of our common Creator.

I recently posted a review on David Kinnaman’s book unChristian, which has generated a lot of conversation in the last year or so.  Among the authors responding to this book is Russell Rathbun, who has recently authored unChristian: Finding Faith in a New Generation.  (Judson Press).  I have been invited to participate in Rathbun’s blog tour, so I will comment on the book and interact with him the week of October 12.  Rathbun is an emergent church pastor and author, so I’m very curious to see his response to unChristian.  Stay tuned.

Finally, the major league baseball season is drawing to a close, and as I write this my Detroit Tigers’ lead in the American League central division has dwindled to one game, with two games left in the season for both the Tigers and the Minnesota Twins, who have been hotly pursuing them the last three weeks.  Having had my baseball heart twice broken by the Twins—in ’87 when they drubbed Detroit in the ALCS and in ’91 when they squeaked by the Braves (also a rooting interest of mine)—I am quite keen on seeing the Tigers return the favor, if just for this season.  Will they do it?  Time, as they say, will tell.

The death of Michael Jackson last week is in some ways a distinctively American tragedy.  While there is nothing new under the sun about the soul-crushing effects of fame and fortune, the dynamics involved in the demise of the greatest pop icon of his generation are eerily familiar.  Anyone acquainted with the details of the decline and fall of Elvis Presley—who, oddly enough, was posthumous father-in-law to Jacko—knows that both men followed the same basic pattern of descent.  Like Presley, Jackson was surrounded by a posse of enablers—people who catered to his whims, including providing him with drugs, while ignoring his declining health, just so they could maintain his approval and, of course, financially benefit.  Sadly, the parallels to the Elvis tragedy are many.

American mega-stardom is a soul-eating monster, and it basically works as follows.  The star rises to renown because of some talent, such as singing, acting, or athletic ability.  As his fame and wealth grow, so do media attention and the onslaught of paparazzi which destroy any privacy the star once had.  Along with this there usually come criticisms, rumors, and accusations of various kinds which make the star defensive or even paranoid about his personal safety and perhaps the safety of his family.  This prompts the star to form an inner circle of advisors to guard his interests, thus creating the celebrity “ghetto effect”—completely insulating him from the “real world.”  At this point he lives in an artificial private world, where all those  around do his bidding.  At the same time, the star’s accountability for personal behavior is diminished, perhaps even lost, as the inner circle is paid exorbitant amounts of money by the star.  Fearing dismissal and a loss of their own fortune, the inner circle becomes a team of “yes” men.  What was intended as a protective belt of security for the star is now a lethal nest of parasites, whose success in feeding off their host must eventually destroy him.

This pattern is not reserved for mega-stars, by the way, but seems to apply, to some degree, to anyone who finds himself in a position of power and prestige.  Remember that money fuels this machine, so the more money, the more ugly the potential results.  The likes of Howard Hughes, Elvis Presley, and, now, Michael Jackson just happen to be the more glaring cases, because of the circumstances of their deaths—tragic neglect despite their many “caretakers.”  But as tragic as these stories are, who knows how the moral neglect in these and similar cases has resulted in deaths of an even more tragic nature—the deaths of the souls of the rich and famous.

To what shall we compare celebrity in the American entertainment culture?  Celebrity is like a tidal wave that rises in part by its own force but gains most of its strength and momentum by its surroundings.  All of these forces which make its crest so impressive also guarantee its disastrous crash.

A while back Amy and I discussed some of the vocations that we envisioned our kids heading into when they become adults.  As we shared our thoughts, we found that we had many conflicting intuitions and expectations.  Then one of us posed the question, “What profession would you least like to see your son or daughter go into?”  Here we easily agreed:  Any line of work that encourages self-exaltation and, when successfully done, brings enormous wealth.  In short, we just don’t want our kids to have fame and fortune.  Some rare celebrities do appear to make it through this “eye of the needle” with their faith and moral compass intact (Bono seems, thus far, to be an example—though at a dear price, I’m sure he would admit).  But we would prefer that our kids—or anyone we love, for that matter—not be subjected to the moral-spiritual poisons of celebrity.

As Morrissey once sang, “Fame, fame, fatal fame—it can play hideous tricks on the brain.”  Indeed, so does extreme wealth.  As we consider the tragic case of Michael Jackson, it would be good for all of us to remember that, for all its macabre circus-like twists and turns, his story is not unique in this crucial sense:  He succumbed to the temptations and mind-warping influences of his mega-stardom.  And I suspect that the overwhelming majority of the rest of us would do so as well.

A few months ago Bob Dylan surprised everyone—including his record company—with the announcement that he had recorded a new album, and last month Together Through Life was released, to the jubilance of Dylan cronies like me everywhere.  At nearly 68 years of age, the great rock bard is nearing the end of his extraordinary career.  So each new album is a yet more precious gift.  What is most remarkable is that late-period Dylan is arguably his very best.  The most recent trio of albums—including Love and Theft, Modern Times, and Together Through Life—form what I have begun calling Dylan’s Americana Trilogy, all having been produced by Jack Frost (Dylan’s pseudonym as record producer) and showcasing a rootsy, relaxed kind of energy to match consistently strong compositions.  However many more albums he records, the first decade of the 21st century will surely go down as a peak Dylan period.

Dylan’s voice is now a gravelly rasp but still quite capable of delivering powerful emotions, startling metaphors, and home truths.  Dylan smartly surrounds his vocals with equally raw instrumentation, including David Hidalgo’s accordion which graces most of the songs on the album.  What no one seems to have noticed is the prominence of guitar work on this album, thanks especially to Mike Campbell (of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers fame).  No other Dylan album (among the 30+ he has recorded) features so many guitar solos.  In fact, there are multiple solos on most of the songs—gritty but melodic stuff that richly accents the lyrics.

Here’s a quick survey of the tracks, most of which Dylan co-wrote with Grateful Dead wordsmith, Robert Hunter:

“Beyond Here Lies Nothin’” – This minor-key tex-mex rocker is the ideal opener for this song cycle, setting the mood for the album which consistently makes the listener feel like he’s sitting in a smoke-filled border town café.  Think Carlos Santana meets Los Lobos, with a generous helping of 1950s Sun Records spontaneity:  “I’m movin’ after midnight down boulevard of broken cars; don’t know what I’d do with out it—without this love that we call ours.  Beyond here lies nothin’—nothin’ but the moon and stars.”

“Life is Hard” – This song was the seed crystal of the entire project, as Dylan and his band went into the studio to record to this tune for the upcoming film My Own Love Song and it ballooned into an album project.  This slow swinging romantic ballad is deceptively complex musically—one of Dylan’s most sophisticated ever.  An instant classic, really, that won’t be immediately recognized as such because Dylan’s voice isn’t strong or nimble enough to do it justice.  But in the hands of a capable jazz singer, the genius of this song would become apparent.  If only Nina Simone were still alive…

“My Wife’s Home Town” – This stark brooding tune works as an anthem for every husband who’s been tortured by his wife’s disapproval:  ”She can make you steal, make you rob, give you the hives, make you lose your job.  She can make things bad; she can make things worse.  She’s got stuff more potent than a gypsy curse.”  In spite of this, he confesses, “my love for her is all I know.”  In many ways, this song’s black humor typifies the entire album.

“If You Ever Go to Houston” – An upbeat nostalgic piece featuring a tasty interplay of classical guitar, organ, accordion, and pedal-steel guitar.  “If you ever go to Houston, you better walk right.  Keep your hands in your pockets and hang your gun belt tight.  You’ll be asking for trouble, if you look for a fight.”  But, as with most of these songs, the lyric redounds to his own emotions:  “Put my tears in a bottle, screw the top on tight; if you ever go to Houston, you better walk right.”

“Forgetful Heart” – Another minor-key meditation, at turns sad and angry, featuring a dark swirl of quiet guitar distortion.  In the face of lost love, Dylan sings “the door has closed forevermore, if indeed there ever was a door”—one of those lines with potentially endless applications to life situations.  Is it regret?  Exasperation?  A sense of futility in the hands of cruel fate?  Perhaps all of the above.

“Jolene” – In the refrain to this rollicking bluesy number the singer declares to his lover, “I am the king and you are the queen.”  But the irony is that despite his pronouncements, it is he who is ruled by his lover.  Dueling guitar solos punctuate the song and drive home the theme.

“This Dream of You” – A mournful quasi-waltz draped with accordion, violin, and a plaintive refrain:  ”All I have and all I know is this dream of you which keeps me living on.”  This is another song which, like “Life is Hard,” displays a surprising musical elegance.  While one of the greatest writers of blues music, Dylan’s reach as a composer extends into diverse genres, even parlor jazz and show tunes, as each album in the Americana Trilogy demonstrates.

“Shake Shake Mama” – A rocking blues tune with more gut-punching dueling guitars and humorous social commentary:  ”Some of you women really know your stuff; but your clothes are all torn and your language is a little too rough.”  But, at bottom, it’s a blues song, as Dylan declares, “I’m fatherless, motherless, and almost friendless too.”

“I Feel a Change Comin’ On” – This is a bouncy tune with an optimistic musical vibe offset by a melancholic lyric.  “Life is for love, and they say that love is blind.  If you want to live easy, baby, pack your clothes with mine.”  Again, however, the happiness is derailed:  “Well, now what’s the use in dreaming.  You’ve got better things to do.  Dreams never did work for me anyway even when they did come true.”

“Its all Good” – If Together Through Life is essentially a musical dark comedy, then its signature song is this closer.  Some reviewers have actually called it upbeat and positive.  Chalk one up for superficial assessment.  This is a sardonic jest at the shallow optimism behind the idiom of the song title.  But this seems lost on some listeners, in spite of lines like these:  “People in the country, people on the land, some of them so sick they can hardly stand.  Everybody would move away, if they could.  It’s hard to believe, but its all good.”  And this:  “The widows cry.  The orphans bleed.  Everywhere you look, there’s more misery.  Come along with me.  I wish you would.  You know what I’m saying—it’s all good.”  Right.  The truth is things are very far from all good.  In fact, nothing in this world is all good, as Dylan has been reminding us for almost fifty years.  This world is a tragic place, and we’ll eventually lose our sanity if we don’t follow the implicit advice of the album’s title.

When I heard last Fall that new albums were forthcoming from both Morrissey and U2, I was thrilled.  Not only are they two of my favorite musical artists of the last 20+ years, but they have established themselves as among the most important of their time.  Naturally, I was hopeful that their new records would be good, but being a realist about the fact that the quality of a band’s or songwriter’s work tends to wane over the years, I braced myself for disappointment.  If just one of these albums was strong, I’d be satisfied. 

Well, my most optimistic hopes were realized.  Both Morrissey’s Years of Refusal and U2’s No Line on the Horizon are excellent, once again proving the staying power of these artists.  In the latter case, however, it’s a more significant achievement.  I have noticed that most bands have approximately a ten year period of inspired creativity, after which the quality of their music begins to diminish.  This seems true of all the great bands which remained together for more than a decade, e.g. The Rolling Stones, The Who, Queen, Pink Floyd, REM, etc.  It also seemed true of U2, since after their 1991 classic Achtung Baby their work has been good but not great.  However, No Line on the Horizon breaks this trend, and the ten year hex just noted, in dramatic fashion.  From the mesmerizing and addictive opening title track to the eerie closer, “Cedars of Lebanon,” Bono and his mates seem inspired.  Lyrically, Bono has yet more to say and has found new ways to say the things he’s already said.  Musically, the Irish lads have managed—even in their 30^th year as a band—to explore new territory, both in terms of chord structures and production approaches.

Meanwhile, the Moz has made his own strides on Years of Refusal, which is one of the strongest of his solo career now spanning more than two decades.  It is also one of his most energetic, as many of the songs were tracked live, and Jerry Finn’s deft production preserves an immediacy of feeling on the other tracks as well.  Morrissey’s voice is as strong and rich as ever, and his slowly revolving cast of supporting musicians serves the songs well, filling the album with memorable hooks and phrases.

So I’ve been enjoying both of these albums immensely.  But as I’ve listened, I’ve been struck by the stark contrast in worldviews.  Interestingly, both Years of Refusal and No Line on the Horizontypify the personalities and values of Morrissey and U2, respectively.  In fact, one might say that each album is a definitive statement of sorts for each artist, at least relative to their output thus far.  And I would sum up the prevailing themes as follows.  For Morrissey, it boils down to temporality, resentment, and despair, while for U2, the thematic core is eternity, grace, and hope.

Temporality vs. Eternity

Morrissey’s preoccupation with his mortality was especially keen on his previous album, Ringleader of the Tormentors, but the theme shows up on Years as well, with such lines as these: “time grips you slyly in its spell and before you know, goodbye will be farewell, and you will never see the one you love again” (“One Day Goodbye Will be Farewell”).  For the Pope of Mope, life is a bitter struggle where “Only stone and steel accept my love” (I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris”) and “To the rescue nobody ever comes” (“When Last I Spoke to Carol”).  And the best he can do in the way of final comfort is to consider how death might end it all, and “we will be safe and sheltered in our graves” (“Momma Lay Softly on the Riverbed”).  But for U2, the expectation of afterlife is an abiding source of comfort.  In “Get On Your Boots” Bono assures us, “laughter is eternity, if joy is real.”  His joy is to “magnify” his Maker, as he sings, “I was born to be with you…  I was born to sing for you.  I give you back my voice.  From the womb, my first cry was a joyful noise” (“Magnificent”).  But perhaps nowhere is the theme of eternity more clear than in the title of the album and title track:  “No line on the horizon.”  For those who have eternal life, as is the hope of every Christian such as Bono, there is no such line because there is no end to what lies ahead for us.

Resentment vs. Grace

The Christian hope of eternal life is, of course, the result of divine grace and forgiveness, which comes to us through Christ.  Bono sings passionately about this grace, especially in “White as Snow,” the potency of which is underscored by the fact that the melody is a variation of that from the classic hymn “O Sacred Head Now Wounded”):  “Once I knew there was a love divine.  Then there came a time I thought it knew me not.  Who can forgive forgiveness where forgiveness is not?  Only the lamb as white as snow” (“White as Snow”).  In contrast to this, sadly, Morrissey’s world is one of self-loathing and resentment.  In one of his more sardonic songs on Years of Refusal, he sings, “It’s not your birthday anymore.  There’s no need to be kind to you.  And the will to see you smile and belong has now gone” (“Its Not Your Birthday Anymore”).  And his own refusal to forgive—perhaps offering the key to interpreting the album title—is plain in “Sorry Doesn’t Help”:  “Sorries pour out of you…like a QC full of fake humility. But sorry doesn’t help us, and sorry will not save us.  And sorry will not bring my teen years back to me….  Sorry won’t undo all the good gone wrong.”

Despair vs. Hope

So for the Moz, in the end there is only despair.  “There is no hope in modern life,” he tells us in “Something is Squeezing My Skull.”  And elsewhere he stoically declares “Disappointment came to me and booted me and bruised and hurt me but that’s how people grow up” (“That’s How People Grow Up”).  And in the closing track he sums up his own experience accordingly: “Could this be an arm around my waist?  Well, surely the hand contains a knife.  It’s been so all of my life.  Why change now?  It hasn’t!  Now this might surprise you, but I find I’m okay by myself” (“I’m OK By Myself”)  Or so Morrissey tries to convince us (and himself?).  These are the album’s lyrical book ends:  “I’m doing very well” and “I’m okay by myself.”  But in between its all angry despair.  Indeed, Morrissey’s world is a lonely one.  Things couldn’t be more different in U2’s world, where Bono proclaims, “I know I’m not alone” (“I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight”).  There is plenty of pain and sorrow, but it is redeemed:  “This foolishness can leave a heart black and blue.  Only love can leave such a mark.  But only love can heal such a scar.  Only love unites our hearts” (“Magnificent”).  There is a profound and exhilarating sense of purpose:  “Every day I die again, and again I’m reborn.  Every day I have to find the courage to walk out into the street with arms out.  Got a love you can’t defeat, neither down nor out.  There’s nothing you have that I need.  I can breathe” (“Breathe”).  And there is that final hope:  “We’re gonna make it all the way to the light” (“I’ll go Crazy”).

I recall reading a review of the Smiths’ 1986 album The Queen is Dead in which the writer gushed about the lyrical genius of their front man—a very young Steven Patrick Morrissey. The reviewer’s closing line stuck with me, because it rang true and because it struck me as a particularly bold prediction. “This guy,” he said regarding Morrissey, “is going to be around for a long time.” Well, over two decades later, Morrissey is still churning out great records and has proven to be one of rock music’s finest songsmiths. It all seems so obvious now, but how could that reviewer have been so sure?

Recently, I’ve come to a similar conclusion regarding the frontman of another band, coincidentally upon the release of their third studio album (as TQID was for the Smiths). The band is the Killers, and the frontman and main lyricist is Brandon Flowers. It wasn’t until last year that I purchased my first Killers album—their debut, Hot Fuss, by which I was pleasantly surprised, especially by the quality of songwriting. It didn’t take long for me to recognize that “Mr. Brightside” and “All These Things That I’ve Done” were instant classics and that there was an artistic vision here that transcended the band’s pop icon status. (Remember, folks, even the Beatles were very popular AND—eventually—avant-garde artists. And no, I don’t mean to put the Killers on the same level as the immortal Liverpudlians.)

Next, I picked up Sam’s Town, the Killers’ tepidly received sophomore effort, which is as underrated an album as I know of—though it certainly has its flaws (mainly the ill-advised “Enterlude” and “Exitlude,” the cheerful moods of which clash with the somber themes on the rest of the album). Sam’s Town, too, has its gems, including “Read My Mind” and the title track. But most significantly this album demonstrated the band’s willingness to explore and evolve, musically as well as lyrically. Certain thematic patterns also began to emerge, most notably Flowers’ disillusionment with fame and his sense of mortality—which is particularly acute for a guy in his mid-twenties.

With their latest release, Day and Age, the Killers have hit their stride, both in terms of matching musical form to lyrical content (the album has a strong dance vibe, owing to the production of Stuart Price) and in terms of songwriting subtlety. There are more instant classics: “Human,” “Neon Tiger,” and “Spaceman.” The latter of these is an especially brilliant piece of songwriting, as Flowers deftly uses an alien abduction as a metaphor for the corrosive effects of fame. And the ambiguous “Neon Tiger” might refer to the band themselves as they wrestle with the temptations of their own celebrity:

Far from the evergreen of old Assam
Far from the rainfall on the trails of old Saigon
straight from the poster town of scorn and ritz
To bring you the wilder side of gold and glitz

But neon tiger there’s a lot on your mind
They promised just to pet you, but don’t you let them get you
Away, away, away
Under the heat of the southwest sun

This sounds like a self-exhortation—from and for a band that hails from the “town of scorn and ritz”—Las Vegas. Ironically, in spite of the superficiality of their hometown, this is a band that does have “a lot on [their] mind.” Will they eventually succumb to the cruel vortex of fame and the relentless demons of celebrity? Time will tell. But for now, Brandon Flowers seems resolute in his will to resist, all the while growing as a songsmith. At this rate, it would appear, this guy is going to be around for a long time.

I love tradition. If ever we do anything the same way twice (the same holiday routine, the same vacation spot, the same meal two Saturdays in a row), I immediately want to canonize it and say that we have to do it the same way every year. When Christmas time rolls around, I try to find as many ways as humanly possible to “create” tradition while Jim huddles in a corner somewhere, waiting out the storm of my enthusiasm. We have to listen to the same Christmas CD while putting up the tree, eat the same foods, use the same ornaments, etc. This also applies to my church-going routine. If I could convince my family to attend a church that played only hymns from the first century A.D. sung in Latin, I would do it. I am greatly comforted by the knowledge that if I am in error, I can blame some guy with a funny name who died thousands of years ago who may or may not have shaken the hand of our Lord and Savior. Sadly there are no such churches in our area so we have settled on a reformed church with one foot solidly planted in traditional worship and maybe a big toe and a few smaller appendages dabbling in the territory of the more contemporary.

Anyhoo, when we are visiting my greatly esteemed parents, we have occasion to visit their church. It is a good church and the preaching is excellent but the worship style is definitely a stretch for my traditional tastes. On a recent visit, I was struggling with both the style and content of a string of choruses, when a realization hit me like a censer between the eyes. (According to Wikipedia a censer is a small metal or stone dish used for burning incense which in the Roman Catholic Church is suspended on chains.) The reason I object to so many of the modern choruses is what I perceive to be an overemphasis on our emotional response to God. It isn’t that I am against emotion in general. (Just ask my kids, who enjoy forcing me to read “The Giving Tree” or “The Story of the Three Trees” just to watch me blubber like a whale on hormones at the end of each.) I love classic hymns because they tend to focus our attention on God’s attributes and his saving works, and my pigheaded self-centeredness needs all the refocusing it can get. But what I hadn’t realized was that although there are certainly some doctrinally justifiable objections to a number of choruses making the rounds these days, I was not responding based on such reason. I was responding with my emotions. I don’t like that style and it doesn’t make me feel like I am worshiping God.

I believe that there are some objective standards by which we can evaluate sacred music. (Like, for starters, could we have an actual melody that most of us can sing? And is it mandatory to repeat the chorus fourteen times? Just a thought. Not that I am bitter or anything.) But I do believe that there is a lot of room for diversity here, and we (okay, I) need to be careful that worship is what it is meant to be—an expression of our obedience to God, not an expression of how we are feeling at the moment. And if I like to worship in the traditional (read: correct) ways and you like to worship in the contemporary (read: slightly less correct but perfectly within the bounds of orthodoxy) ways, then that’s okay. Yes, we should hold one another accountable to standards of excellence in both content and form. But within those standards there is a great deal of room for diversity, just as there is a great deal of diversity within the body as a whole. After all, we are a body of many parts, not just one big toe.

Two of the stalwart acts in modern rock will release new records this February: U2 and Morrissey.  And, as usual in both cases, the pre-release hype machine is already in full-throttle months in advance.  The U2 record, to be titled No Line on the Horizon, was recorded in Morocco, France, and Dublin, Ireland.  And sources close to the band are effusive with praise about it.  Co-producer Daniel Lanois is quoted as saying “it’s one of the great, innovative records from U2.”  Well, we’ll see about that.  But one thing is for sure, the song titles of likely album tracks are intriguing.  They include: “Get Your Boots On,” “The Cedars of Lebanon,” “Moment of Surrender,” “Love is All We Have Left,” and “If I Could Live My Life Again.”

The new Morrissey album is called Years of Refusal, and was produced by Jerry Finn, who manned the board on the Moz’s 2004 comeback record You are the Quarry.  Tragically, Finn suffered a brain hemorrhage shortly after finishing the project and died August 21.  But it appears Finn’s final production effort will be a strong one, if comments from Morrissey’s band are any indication.  Like Bono, Morrissey has a knack for interesting song titles.  Probable album tracks include: “Action Man,” “I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris,” “One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell,” “Something is Squeezing My Skull,” “Because of My Poor Education,” “You Were Good in Your Time,” and “Mama Lay Softly on the Riverbed.”

The coincidence of these two releases is a double pleasure.  And as I anticipate them with glee, certain similarities between the two Irish-blooded songsmiths have jumped out at me.  For one thing, both Bono and Morrissey are musical connoisseurs, and not just within the rock tradition but across genres, ranging from Broadway show tunes to Indian trance music.  It is fascinating to see how two men in their late-forties have remained hungry and innovative, both lyrically and musically.  Far from being “written out,” each continues to explore interesting themes and styles with each release.

Bono and Morrissey are both well-read fellows, faithfully observing that guiding maxim for all literary artists: good writers must be good readers.  No artist creates in a vacuum, and as Bono himself has said, “every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief.”  These two have mastered the skill of artistic thievery, drawing their inspiration from great poets, novelists, and singers without lapsing into cheap, transparent imitation.

Another trait they share is strong convictions.  They have keen interests in political issues, and both are social activists regarding certain causes, such as AIDS relief in Africa in Bono’s case (cf. “Crumbs from Your Table”) and animal welfare for the Moz (cf. “Meat is Murder”).  You might say that they are very judgmental people, as perhaps all moral visionaries are, and each has been guilty of mouthing off or being too harshly critical at times.

Finally, both Bono and Morrissey have a strong sense of mortality.  Human frailty and desperation in a dangerous and confusing world are recurring themes in the work of both artists.  There is a certain sorrow which pervades their songs, though the Christian faith of Bono and the other members of U2 preserves a sense of hope in their music.  But Morrissey, no less than Bono, is on a spiritual quest—though I’m quite sure he would resist this characterization—which comes through in his music as well.  Both of them have shared their journeys with us in aesthetically pleasing ways.  And for this I am thankful.