I've started working. A real job. Real Job. All capital-lettery! With the feeling of being appreciated and being part of something! This is extremely novel, after 8 years of contracting.
I knew it was going to be a fun place when I walked in for the interview and saw the place covered with concert posters, including Queens of the Stone Age, Social Distortion, Foo Fighters and No Doubt. The President of the company is one of the only people I know who reveres Arcade Fire more than I do.
I have to hide in sound often to be able to concentrate, and I've been getting much music, because many of my favorite bands have been releasing albums. So I thought I'd write a short entry about some of the music that I've bought lately.
We're in the concert dull zone. Next month we have Austin City Limits festival, Henry Rollins' spoken word event and Interpol.
The new Interpol album, Our Love to Admire, was something I was anticipating with quivering joy. They are brooding, owe perhaps far too much to Bauhaus and Joy Division, and have obtuse lyrics. And I love them. Intensely. Let me be more specific: I loved their first two albums, Turn on the Bright Lights and Antics. The third album is fine, and I definitely love, so far, several of the tracks. But I'm not sure whether it is as stunning as I had hoped. I will have to give it more listens, but I was not overwhelmed. It almost hurts to type that, since I was so looking forward to it. Ah well.
Editors' sophomore effort, An End Has a Start, impressed me far more than I expected, especially after the first single didn't excite me nearly as much as Munich did more than a year ago. Smokers Outside the Hospital Doors is not quite the Coldplay-esque anthem some have deemed it, but there are some far better tracks on the album. In fact, the only song I could skip is the last one. Roy is not nearly so fond of it.
The National is a fairly recent discovery. I have all their albums, I think, but I need to listen more to give a better critique comparing them. This little piece isn't really an in-depth anything anyway. MY blog, MY lazy! HA! Anyhow... I suppose I enjoy the morose in music. And somewhat obtuse lyrics. The Bauhaus/Joy Division/Tom Waits/Smiths influence is obvious in this band. The vocal range of the lead singer, Matt Berninger, is perhaps limited, but it does seem to exceed that of Interpol's Paul Banks. Yes, a recovering opera singer is fond of lazy vocal stylings. The fact that they must be coupled with exceptional, heady lyrics speaks more to the writer/poet I might be than the vocal craftsperson I was.
Other worthwhile new music: Crowded House's Time on Earth, an emotional but highly listenable elegy to their former drummer, Paul Hester, who committed suicide some years back; The Black Dog Book of Dogma, appealing if a bit mellow electronica; Mocean Worker Cinco de Mowo, drum and bass with heavy 50s-60s lounge and jazz influence (with "Tickle This", "Shake ya Boogie" and all tracks with flutist Rahsaan Roland Kirk being my faves... and not at all because of my fondness for China Mieville's King Rat).
I'm eagerly awaiting more material from Louis XIV, Future of the Left, and Bob Mould. What's a post-punk gal supposed to do with herself?? I suppose I'll just get more black clothing, practice the irony and the mope, and.... go to bed.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
For goodness' sake
He has said, “You’re a good person,” meaning me, more times than I can recall.
A couple of weeks ago, while walking the puppy and feeling impatient, violent, angry, and any number of other unpleasant emotions, I said out loud to myself, and to Vlad, “I’m not a good person.” The dog didn’t much care what I said one way or the other, as long as it didn’t mean anything bad was going to happen to him. But I started ruminating.
Was I berating myself? Why did I feel impelled to come out with that statement three-quarters of a mile into our walk? And I wondered, “What is a good person? Is anyone I know truly good?”
I think goodness, pure, at-heart goodness, is something that comes naturally. It’s unstudied. It’s not a reaction to some learned moral imperative. It’s not what a person does to avoid unpleasant reactions from others. Pure goodness is something that flows easily from within.
And I don’t think it’s common among humans. It’s by far the exception and not the rule. It seems counter-intuitive, from a survival standpoint. If you give your share of the food away out of the goodness of your heart, how will you survive? Most of us want that food. We realize being nice to other people increases our chances of getting the food, but our primary instinct is to bash other people on the head in order to get it. That assumption is not comfortable. My initial reaction was to deny that was how I was. But, honestly, it’s true. At least for me, it is. Much of the structure we call society is in place so we can get our share of the food while not cracking the heads of others. Morals and ethics have, at their root, a goodness I believe we have inside—but it is deep under the other instincts at whose whims we act out, subversively, passive-aggressively — and, of course, just aggressively. The small, sweet voice of goodness is more often than not drowned out by the frightened caterwauls of “Do I have what I want?” and “Is that person going to keep me from getting it?”
So what about the people whose instincts seem to incline them, naturally, toward selflessness? Why was that behavior not bred out of humanity long ago? Without the drive for acquisition/food as the chief motivator, how does a person survive?
I think also of the spiritual centers of communities who are fed and cared for by the ones who adulate them. They sometimes are good. Perhaps it’s the goodness within those few people that makes their communities revere them as spiritual superiors. Per haps it’s why that tendency survives, in very few people. I may have known one, perhaps two, whose goodness outweighed their drive to acquire and outperform others. One was looked upon as eccentric and not quite within the realm of sanity. The other was one of those people who could operate in the world in which most of us operate. However, concerns I would consider practical, like making sure to eat somewhat regularly and having a place to live, didn’t really top her list of priorities. We may have considered her lucky to have friends who would see that she was fed and cared for, but I think she was just happy to have friends.
I think of people who sacrifice themselves, figuratively or literally, and don’t view what they do as sacrifice. It’s just what they do. That is goodness. Those of us who make sacrifices as a matter of choice practice goodness, but it doesn’t seem to me as though that is intrinsic goodness.
There is another way to look at the issue. In my experience as an opera student and a somewhat professional opera singer, I may have met one person who was a “natural singer.” All the rest of us had to learn the manner of singing that would allow us to project over a 100-piece orchestra for hours and still be able to sing beautifully the next day.
Similarly, there are few people who naturally run very fast. I never hope to be a true race contender, but I strive to do better than the last race. Runners, like me or like most professional racers, can train to increase speed, but the natural propensity for tremendous speed is a rare attribute.
I’m not saying the people who are natural singers, or natural good people, or natural fast runners, are superior to the rest of us. And there is something noble about striving to better one’s self. Reaching beyond that which comes comfortably to us is part of what makes us human. Just like those not-so-noble impulses to bash our neighbors on the head and take their tasty treats for ourselves.
And you can say I try to do good things. Sometimes I even succeed. Just don’t call me a good person. Or I might just disappoint you… or take your ice cream while you’re not looking.
A couple of weeks ago, while walking the puppy and feeling impatient, violent, angry, and any number of other unpleasant emotions, I said out loud to myself, and to Vlad, “I’m not a good person.” The dog didn’t much care what I said one way or the other, as long as it didn’t mean anything bad was going to happen to him. But I started ruminating.
Was I berating myself? Why did I feel impelled to come out with that statement three-quarters of a mile into our walk? And I wondered, “What is a good person? Is anyone I know truly good?”
I think goodness, pure, at-heart goodness, is something that comes naturally. It’s unstudied. It’s not a reaction to some learned moral imperative. It’s not what a person does to avoid unpleasant reactions from others. Pure goodness is something that flows easily from within.
And I don’t think it’s common among humans. It’s by far the exception and not the rule. It seems counter-intuitive, from a survival standpoint. If you give your share of the food away out of the goodness of your heart, how will you survive? Most of us want that food. We realize being nice to other people increases our chances of getting the food, but our primary instinct is to bash other people on the head in order to get it. That assumption is not comfortable. My initial reaction was to deny that was how I was. But, honestly, it’s true. At least for me, it is. Much of the structure we call society is in place so we can get our share of the food while not cracking the heads of others. Morals and ethics have, at their root, a goodness I believe we have inside—but it is deep under the other instincts at whose whims we act out, subversively, passive-aggressively — and, of course, just aggressively. The small, sweet voice of goodness is more often than not drowned out by the frightened caterwauls of “Do I have what I want?” and “Is that person going to keep me from getting it?”
So what about the people whose instincts seem to incline them, naturally, toward selflessness? Why was that behavior not bred out of humanity long ago? Without the drive for acquisition/food as the chief motivator, how does a person survive?
I think also of the spiritual centers of communities who are fed and cared for by the ones who adulate them. They sometimes are good. Perhaps it’s the goodness within those few people that makes their communities revere them as spiritual superiors. Per haps it’s why that tendency survives, in very few people. I may have known one, perhaps two, whose goodness outweighed their drive to acquire and outperform others. One was looked upon as eccentric and not quite within the realm of sanity. The other was one of those people who could operate in the world in which most of us operate. However, concerns I would consider practical, like making sure to eat somewhat regularly and having a place to live, didn’t really top her list of priorities. We may have considered her lucky to have friends who would see that she was fed and cared for, but I think she was just happy to have friends.
I think of people who sacrifice themselves, figuratively or literally, and don’t view what they do as sacrifice. It’s just what they do. That is goodness. Those of us who make sacrifices as a matter of choice practice goodness, but it doesn’t seem to me as though that is intrinsic goodness.
There is another way to look at the issue. In my experience as an opera student and a somewhat professional opera singer, I may have met one person who was a “natural singer.” All the rest of us had to learn the manner of singing that would allow us to project over a 100-piece orchestra for hours and still be able to sing beautifully the next day.
Similarly, there are few people who naturally run very fast. I never hope to be a true race contender, but I strive to do better than the last race. Runners, like me or like most professional racers, can train to increase speed, but the natural propensity for tremendous speed is a rare attribute.
I’m not saying the people who are natural singers, or natural good people, or natural fast runners, are superior to the rest of us. And there is something noble about striving to better one’s self. Reaching beyond that which comes comfortably to us is part of what makes us human. Just like those not-so-noble impulses to bash our neighbors on the head and take their tasty treats for ourselves.
And you can say I try to do good things. Sometimes I even succeed. Just don’t call me a good person. Or I might just disappoint you… or take your ice cream while you’re not looking.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)