Arguing with the Gods: A New,
Irregular Feature
Ultimately a hero is a man who
would argue with the Gods, and so awakens devils to contest his vision.
-- Norman Mailer
A few weeks ago, Johnny Cash died and I was commissioned to
write an obituary
of the great country icon by Stereophile. That's not unusual -- I'm a professional
writer, of course, and music is part of my beat. I can write to length and on deadline and
my tastes range all over the place, so for certain publications I'm kind of a
one-stop-shopping obituary source.
Not that I'm complaining -- I need the work.
But I get tired of writing appreciations of my musical
heroes after they have died. There's a sense in which it seems so paltry. After all, these
people have spent their entire lives developing the talents that have added so much joy
and meaning to my life, it seems like the least I could do is express that
appreciation while they are alive.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not so egotistical as to think that
Brian Eno, say, or Steve Earle or Emmylou Harris or Charles Rosen have been waiting around
for my approbation. It's unlikely that any of them will ever even notice anything I might
have to say about what their music means to me. That seems only fair somehow -- after all,
they produce their art for their own reasons, which have little to do with me (nothing to
do with me personally, not to put too fine a point on it). Why should any little scribbles
I might write about that work be done for different reasons?
Also, it might be interesting. I hope it will be.
So, starting on November 1 and appearing irregularly in
this space after that, I'm going to insert Arguing With the Gods, a series of
ruminations about musicians who matter to me -- focusing most intensely on those who are
still alive and productive. I seem to rebel against rigid structures, however, so I'm sure
that I'll occasionally slip in someone who isn't on this mortal coil, or even someone who
is still alive but no longer musically active.
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
I hope I won't just be talking to myself. It would be nice
if I could make the musical case for at least a few musicians you might not have otherwise
discovered or "gotten," but I have to confess I'm doing it as much for myself as
anyone -- to understand why I love some music so much.
It always saddens me to write obituaries of my musical
heroes -- it means they're dead after all -- but the process of attempting to
describe the power and impact of their legacies frequently forces me to understand aspects
of their art that I simply had not encompassed until I attempted to share them with my
readers. That process of discovery can be thrilling.
That's what I hope to get out of this whole exercise
-- and what I hope you get out of it, too. That, and the chance to say thank you to
people who have made my inner life the rich and raucous playground it has been over the
last 40+ years.
And I hope I won't just be talking about good songs, good
lyrics, good arrangements -- blah, blah, woof-woof, the same old tired stuff we
writers always trot out when discussing music. That implies that there's something logical
about music, whereas the truly thrilling thing about it is the way it can subvert logic
and create meaning even when you don't understand it.
Maybe that's too ambitious for a puny little monkey-mind
like mine, but I guess we'll know for sure before too long. Even if you don't get a kick
out of the music I write about, watching me crash and burn might be worth a few chuckles.
Fasten your seatbelts; it could be a bumpy ride.
He may no longer be among the living, but Frank Zappa, the
musical idol of my youth, is never far from my thoughts, and he said it so well in Joe's
Garage:
Information is not knowledge
Knowledge is not wisdom
Wisdom is not truth
Truth is not beauty
Beauty is not love
Love is not music...
Music is the BEST.
...Wes Phillips
wes@onhifi.com
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