Sonic Youth - The Eternal

Despite Pete Townshend's famously-reneged-on promise, rockers get old - usually with informative, if not interesting results. The increasingly inappropriately-named Sonic Youth's latest album The Eternal is a thudding collage of times and places that paints us a compelling picture of a group of aging hipsters who've internalised tragedy for no loss of rage.

What struck me about the sound of this album, with respect to the few before that, is how much more stable this sounds. It's not that they've lost their penchant for the two-guitar-noisebox-freakout (they haven't) - but where these were inchoate screeches of rage on Daydream Nation, lovestruck soundscapes on NYC Ghosts, and structural punctuation on Rather Ripped, here they are the self-assured sonic statements of a bunch of musicians past their age but not past their time. It's as if Thurston and Lee's wild noise generations have ceased to become acts of rebellion but instead have become a fully-fledged language that the whole band speaks with the ease and looseness of long-time native speakers. Where a younger Sonic Youth might have delved into more extravagant textural fuckery, this older and wiser band seems content at times to sit back, make noises, and revel quietly in the chaos.

The effect of this is perhaps more in keeping with the general feeling of the album - less personal than Rather Ripped, less political than Daydream, more focused and more song-y than NYC. In many ways it is a retrospective - 'It's been quite a ride/with you my sweet, here by my side' Thurston sings on 'What We Know'. And the creepy Kim Gordon tour-de-force that is 'Massage the History' is a powerful lament of past grief. It's no surprise that they're looking back somewhat - Kim and Thurston are what, 50? and no serious philosophy would refuse to look back and make sense of a past that must have been wilder than anything I can imagine.

Lyrically, Sonic Youth have always been dodgy - the half-written jive-verse served to signify a rebellion against the very foundations of language at its best ('Teenage Riot') and a somewhat misplaced grandeur at its worst ('Rats' - also, 'werewolf commando poison tongue?' Really, Thurston?). Here they've perhaps given up on the idea of ever writing traditionally good lyrics. Instead, they've written several highly functional songs that eschew irony purposefully. It's refreshing in some ways that they've given up posturing, and where the lyrics grate they at least make you think about what they mean, and they never mean nothing (I wish I could be/music on a tree). It could be the fan in me being charitable, but of all the strange barely-coherent inhabitants of the alternative universe, I find that these guys are probably part of the few who've transcended the need for songform and parse-able lyrics. They're still pretty terrible at it sometimes. At its best though, the lyrics hint darkly at meaning the way the music hints at structure and beauty, and never fail to bubble up from the texture at the right moments.

And that's important because primarily the Youth are a music band rather than a lyrics band, and the lyrics are fundamentally un-divorceable from the music, unlike say Paul Simon. I for one am glad that they've decided to stick to song form after the brilliant-but-almost-horrible sprawl of NYC Ghosts. As in all of their work, the actual music is the (very) necessary counterpoint to their lyrics. Now that they seem to be content with what lyrics they can muster, they can relax and let the music carry the lyrics to wherever the hell they want it to with the assuredness of master inventors. When Kim Gordon whispers grief in 'Massage the History', Thurston's wide-eyed guitar reveals a persona not broken by grief but coming out of grief looking at the world with new hope and old anger. That's a hell of an achievement for anybody, never mind a 50-year old rocker who's led the charge himself on several occasions.

I'm sure Pete Townshend is sorry that he wanted to die before he got old. Now nobody will let him live it down. He should also be sorry for missing the best thing that could happen to a rock and roller - growing old, facing down your demons and shouting your triumph and your grief to the sky. That will be the legacy of our generation, and that's what Sonic Youth have done here. Kim Gordon sums it up herself at the end of 'Massage the History' - 'Come with me to the other side/Not everyone makes it out alive'.

xmas 2010

It annoys me that I should have to talk about my feelings up here where I have made the altar of reason. But I suppose I disposed with the sacrosanct along with the sacred... so what the hell.

This year has been the best and the worst at the same time, the highest and the lowest of conditions. Just 11 months back I was still 3rd Sergeant Adam, waiting for my release into the civilian world. And then it was a storm of music and friends and preparations and saying goodbyes. And then it was a storm of newness, and those were days of ecstatic freedom and then it ended.

Now it's christmastime and I'm carrying a grief heavier than my heart. It is in part a grief for the past and the familiar that I have left behind and the unfamiliar that is in my lungs and forces a new death with every passing day. But it is mostly a grief for the futures that will never happen. These days are the fulcra about which the rest of our lives revolve. Every lost opportunity is met with its echo - a wave of grief propagating ceaselessly into the future. I grieve for one particular future that is lost, in which I prophesied happiness that is now lost to me.

There are other things: the bittersweet feeling of letting the old year die and welcoming the new one. There are songs and fireplaces, and family and the sounds of children. There are the voices of old friends and the faces of the new. All of these things are the messengers of happiness. I am grateful for them, but I still grieve, and when it passes it will not be a restoration to life but the first step in preparation for death. In the meantime, I mean to live, and that may require tears.

I'm a long long way from home

and I miss my lover so

In the early morning run

when the cold wind blows

when the cold wind blows

- Singapore army song

I did not anticipate being this far away. I did not anticipate being this alone.

On Rage

There is much cause for anger for an atheist. Everyday I am confronted with new evidence of the unbelievable stupidity and ignorance (not to say violence) that religion causes. People around the world are suffering from the effects of religion, not just because religion is misappropriated by Bad People, which it is, but because religion and its texts are engines of extremism, in the words of Sam Harris. No religion that professes a text that supports slavery and capital punishment to be the Word of God will ever be free of extremism. It is not Bad People that are solely to blame: religion is inherently to blame.

The causes for rage are many - not always a personal rage, I must admit. These are things that are to some degree removed from my personal experiences. But isn't the idea of sociopolitical and humanistic awareness basically the expansion of one's own experience to include the happenings of wider society? The concern (and indignance) is valid, I feel.

Yet there is, from another point of view, little cause for rage for one such as myself. I have religious friends who are as much human beings as anybody I know. The ideological hatefulness of religion shouldn't negate my mostly-positive personal experience of religious people and religion in general.

What I'm saying I guess is that as an atheist I should be on my guard against the sort of dogmatic hate-mongering that is the mark of extremism. Which is not to say that I should not be highly outraged whenever a human being's dignity is compromised over some laughable point of theology. However, the quality of outrage is not personal, if it doesn't happen to me. It is a specific outrage directed at injustice, not a spiteful and personal vengeance. It is too easy to be monolithic about morality and blindly apply narratives across the spectrum of my experiences.

I think that the acceptance of reason as a guide to living necessitates accepting the plurality of experience. No One Thing is true - if it is we are incapable of understanding. This might mean that I find religion reprehensible on one hand and deeply love my religious friends on the other. It doesn't make much sense, but at times the reality of feelings and experience don't make sense. It is only human to make the best we can of it.

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

-Walt Whitman, 'Song of Myself'

Leo Igwe at the 2nd Annual Conference for the Free Society Institute of South Africa

'To the question that brought us here today – is a secular viewpoint our best guide to moral clarity? – my answer is yes. The secular, not religious, outlook provides us a reliable framework for the expression and realization of moral excellence. The secular viewpoint is based on evidence, reason, science, common sense and human beneficence. The secular outlook is open to revision and improvement. Secular morality is a morality for this world and of this world, not for the next; it is a morality for our happiness and well being in the here and now, not in the hereafter. It is a morality for this temporary life not for an eternal afterlife in an imaginary paradise. Secular morality is a morality by us, from us and for us, not a moral decree of God from God and for us ‘wretched’ humans. Secular morality is informed by the quest to be good and to do good for goodness’ sake, not the quest to be good and to do good for God’s sake or for heaven’s sake or to avoid going to Hell.'

There is nothing more to life than chasing down every temporary high

For a unbeliever,

life is a rush from peak to peak

backpacking up the steps and slopes

then a wild toboggan ride through the valleys and up some ways

I beg you not to think that that's so sad

as you daughters of the faith are wont to do

one climbs and falls

(one climbs, at any rate)

and, ascending to each peak one isn't concerned with

breathlessness and aching legs

but the sun reflecting off the lakes and the trees.

it will pass, as you say.

after the last ascent I will ride alone into the valley of death,

that cold and windy place -

but There is nothing more to life than chasing down every temporary high,

I am happy to say.

I get stronger with each ascent,

and looking out from the hilltops I know that the sun is rising

and say to myself 'It is good.'

for abigail

"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all gone to look for America

Gloria Gloria Gloria

Jimi Hendrix, Patti Smith and the Doors tackle what could be the greatest rock and roll song ever written - Them's 'Gloria'. I feel like I need to write this to figure out for myself what makes each of these so wonderful, because things like these sure aren't happening anymore.

So, the first thing that I should point out is that the songs are about sex. Not in an excited, teenage way at all. These are songs that elevate sex and place it at its rightful place near the centre of human existence. These songs aren't about sex so much as they cause a Copernican re-centering of the human experience around the sexual act. In this new existence. , love, anger and sadness are merely functions of something far more fundamental.

This is all highfalutin talk though. The specific manifestations of this spirit are far more interesting and (from a musical standpoint) far more analysable.

For example, Patti Smith and Jim Morrison of the Doors are both primarily vocal artists : their expression of the sacred sexuality becomes vocal intensity. When Jim screams 'Make me feel alright!' it is a moment of release. His voice suggests drunken rage; his lyric improvisations suggest the worst(best?) forms of crudity. Its justification is intensity and power - and the comparative sedateness of the rest of the Doors allows him to lapse into refractory periods that build into orgasm again and again.

Patti's vocal style is another thing altogether, partly because she's a woman, and partly because her femininity gives her a different perspective on the whole issue of sex. This is not to deny Patti credit for her own brand of wonderful violence, but that violence is refracted through a kind of poetry. Patti's version is much more symbolic - 'I heard those bells ringing in my heart' - 'i wanna tell the world that I made her mine, made her mine, made her mine' etc. Patti's message brings evangelism and religion into the sexual universe.

Give Thanks

1. A man sat across me on the crowded train out of the city, carrying a bouquet of roses. The two college girls sitting with us were eyeing it. 'It's for my wife. We've been married for 25 years.' 'Oh,' I said, 'That's wonderful.' 'It's a long time. Too long. I told her that.' 'Is that why you bought the flowers?' 'Nah. I got them... just cause. We're past all that apologising and stuff.'

2. 'You know, I swear I'm gonna end up playing funk banjo or something. I'll be playing in the park and someone will come up and be all 'You know any Seeger?' and I'll be like 'I don't, but I know Tower of Power'. 'You high? I asked. 'I'm pretty high' said Dylan.

3. Kim came into the room with a bag of M&Ms. Normally she'd buy me a bag for every week I quit smoking, but I'd fallen off the bandwagon recently. 'What's this for? I've been smoking, Kim.' 'I felt bad not bringing you anything.' 'Um, okay. Tell you what, I'll only eat them after I've quit again.' I ate them anyway, feeling a little guilty.

4. '...and in every generation of musicians, there's somebody who's the Ramblin' Man. He does a deal with the devil in exchange for being really good at music. And he always sings the blues. It was B.B for awhile. Then Dylan. and then Hendrix. Are we forgetting anybody?'
'You missed Robert Johnson.'
'Jim Morrison'
'Cobain, man. He was a saint.'
'What about now, who's it now? I think it's gotta be a rapper.'
'Mos Def. Definitely Mos Def.'

5. It's alright, it's alright - you can't be forever blessed. Still, tomorrow's gonna be another working day, and I'm trying to get some rest.

6.oh dear. sato's whining
aw
i go check on him okay
one sec
idk what's wrong with him?
could it be the rash?
i don't think so
he wldn't whine
he'd just scratch
could be something internal
he's a afraid of smthing
maybe he has a stomachache
its not a whine that's sick
its an anxious whine
oh
dunno then :(
and he keeps pacing
idk
i gave him a blanket
to cover with
so he'd feel safer.
:)
well you can't talk to him so there isn't much you can do
i did talk to him
but he's not really listening
do you want to go down to be with him for awhile?

7. Don’t know a soul that’s not been battered,
don’t have a friend who feels at ease
Don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered,
or driven to its knees

8. And now, Let the weak say "I am strong"
Let the poor say "I am rich"
Because of what the Lord has done for us,

Give thanks

9. her lymph node test results are out. all 27 are negative from any signs of the cancer spreading!

10. ‘You know, it’s my first thanksgiving.’
‘Is that so? Prepare to get fat, then’
‘Turkey coma. Watch out.’

Spiritual Dimensions preliminary

So I'm one and a half times through this album, and still deciding what to think.

On the one hand - when they get going (both bands) they are powerful and persuasively energetic. Check out the Golden Quartet version of 'South Central L.A. Kulture' for a great example of the band searing on a post-electric Miles sort of tune, which breaks down, then breaks up for no loss of effect.

For the Organic band, 'Angela Davis' is a driving statement where the 4 guitar format gets to unleash its inherent chaos to great effect.

On the other hand - Vijay Iyer's avant-gardisms sound a little trite to me at times. I don't think he completely lives up to the role. But where he's allowed flashes of tonality he demonstrates the same power heard on his solo albums.

The 4 guitar band works on the loud songs where chaos is rewarded, but every slow section quickly loses its erection and turns to mush. It seems like they're avoiding each other so much that no music happens - and the prog-rock-y sections just annoy me to no end because they're devoid of the dirtiness and grit that's the saving characteristic of Miles-ean funk, just like much of modern jazz (and indeed most of prog-rock. I mean you, Thom Yorke.)

Commentary on Harris vs Sullivan

http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Secular-Philosophies/Is-Religion-Built-Upon-Lies.aspx

This is a really good debate on the issues of religion. And Sullivan makes probably the most convincing argument about religion that I've ever seen, and he's greatly increased my understanding of people of faith.

On the other hand, Sam Harris pretty much demolishes him in the reason department, and Sullivan basically concedes the debate in his last post, saying that he is unequal to the arguments presented (or somesuch). I shan't make this another self-righteous atheist post crowing about some victory or other, though. I'm more interested in Sullivan than I am in Harris, although Harris is making clearer and better arguments.

Sullivan's argument cuts to the chase of a religious person's faith. He writes of the serenity of knowing that a benign power guides our lives, and that the keystone of that belief is that such a power demonstrated its concern by becoming human. If nothing, that is a beautiful, comforting belief. I can and do admit that much.

Let me offer my alternative though: I believe in the fundamental goodness of human beings. I believe that that goodness reveals itself when we submit ourselves with humility to the truth that we discern with our reason. We have never experienced a better way to do things. Sullivan argues that the point of our existence cannot be reduced to a quest for truth: ultimately, in the moment of death, we must have made peace with existence. Or, to put it another way, that the need for happiness, not the need for truth, is the most fundamental human need. Sullivan uses that to justify religion, which I don't agree with, but I agree with the principle. However, I think, as does Harris, that you can't untangle happiness from the truth. I have lived by this principle and it has never failed me.

Adam

everything is broken.

reassembling

I've had a pretty bad week. Still, when you pick the pieces up off the floor sometimes you find things you've never known were there.

I wish things could have been different. And I demand the right to could've and should've myself into whatever corner pleases me, leave me that much.

The quality of affection is not strained, however. I guess I can say that things will be alright, and that there will be smiles to come.

That is all.

I woke up sobbing again. I am running out of patience.

You can't be forever blessed.

Many's the time I've been mistaken, and many times confused
And I've often felt forsaken, and certainly misused.
But it's all right, it's all right, I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be bright and Bon Vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home.
I don't know a soul who's not been battered
Don't have a friend who feels at ease
Don't know a dream that's not been shattered
Or driven to its knees.
But it's all right, all right, We've lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road we're traveling on,
I wonder what went wrong, I can't help it
I wonder what went wrong.
And I dreamed I was flying. I dreamed my soul rose
unexpectedly, and looking back down on me, smiled
reassuringly, and I dreamed I was dying.

And far above, my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty, drifting away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying.
We come on a ship we call the Mayflower,
We come on a ship that sailed the moon
We come at the age's most uncertain hour
And sing an American tune

But it's all right, its all right
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's gonna be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest,
That's all, I'm trying to get some rest.

The Good News

is that there is no judgement other than our own

that we are free, as we have always been,

to love and be loved

to create and be created

and in every second that goes by

rings the joyous tumble of fears.

A statement of purpose

So a very very good friend of mind exhorted me recently to re-consider my religious beliefs. I felt it would be doing her and myself a dishonour not to do so sincerely and honestly.

I read the Bible (parts of it anyway - I AM in college.) I familiarised myself with apologetics. I revisited philosophy. Mostly, I spent a good amount of time thinking.

So I'm happy to report that no conclusion has been reached other than the current affirmation of my previously-unproclaimed atheism. I wish to put this out for the world to see today - I am coming out of the closet, so to speak. I am an atheist. I believe in no God, no creator, and I do not accept Jesus as my lord and saviour. This is not a fully-considered belief. I have not familiarised myself with all the arguments at hand; I have not read all the books on the subjects or spoken to all the experts. However, I have reflected and found that no observation of mine or knowledge that I claim to have in any way supports the doctrines of any religion.

I believe in the supremacy of reason. I believe that it will be mankind's salvation. I believe that life has a purpose and a meaning, and that every human being deserves to be treated with love, compassion and respect. I have not lived up to this always, but I believe in it. I believe that science is the highest discipline man can aspire to, and that logical reasoning is the key to a life well-lived. These beliefs have borne me through the most difficult of times.

I believe in the intrinsic value of all human beings, which derives from no God and no external power other than the happiness we are miraculously able to experience and the principles we derive for ourselves, through the exercise of our intellect.

This is by no means the end of any discussion - I look forward to a life fraught with doubt, the daily challenge, and the soaring joy of finding my own way.

Adam

My heart has broken many times for the plight of humanity, but perhaps never as badly as for the Christians, who suffer and only become weaker. If there is one thing mankind deserves it is the fruit of his suffering.