Since You Slipped Away...

Billy Joel is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Thanks to Chuck Klosterman in September of 2002, we know that is a small comfort to Billy Joel.

"The happiest times in my life were when my relationships were going well - when I was in love with someone, and someone was loving me," said Joel in the interview that Klosterman wrote for the New York Post newspaper. "But in my whole life, I haven't met the person I can sustain a relationship with yet. So I'm discontented about that. I'm angry with myself. I have regrets."

... it is interesting to note that Billy Joel and I share some feelings, some sentiments, some regrets. But, really... where else does great art come from? The highs and lows of the creative mind, the romantic heart.

And, even with that said... I am better off than I was in 2002, or 2004, or 2006. Reading through my old blog, it is shocking how many snippets of my relationship with my then-girlfriend, and how before that my lack of a romantic relationship with someone, slipped into my writting.

Love is an all-consuming, all-or-nothing passion for almost every human being. It defines us, it defines life, it defines God, it defines all. Our relation to love, in all its myriad forms, plays an important role in how we view the world, and how comfortable we are in those moments when we consider ourselves in it (and perhaps, of it, though the hardcore religious fanatic would never say we were "of" the world).

As I look at myself in the world and perhaps of it, I see progress. I see love - in many of its myriad of forms, though perhaps not in the desparate, romantic form that Billy Joel and I dream of - all around me. And, though Mr. Joel and I lament, and write a tuneful sorrow for thine ears to hear, along with so many of our favorite songwriters... though my heart wants and needs what C.S. Lewis calls "Eros" in the Four Loves... though we all need a little "bang a gong, get it on" ... I can say I am loved, and I am happy.

There are always lonely, hurt, and joyous, fond corners of the heart to explore for the next sweet melody and pensive turn of phrase.

But the days and moments in between can be pretty sweet, too.

I'll Take The Varmint's Path

"Corduroy" is the greatest rock song of the '90's, and the second greatest live rock and roll song ever. Written and recorded by Pearl Jam, originally released on the album Vitalogy, "Cordoroy" represents everything that is good and right about '90's music.

Why is it, specifically, the greatest rock song of the '90's? It perfectly encapsulates the era - lyrics dealing with alienation, want and desire, a need to mean something, and fear of a controlling media; liquid, ethereal guitar-work that explodes into a powerful, pounding, riff, that turns into a hypnotic rhythm, and takes you for a ride the entire song; great rhythm section along with great lead work that is understated and yet perfect for the moment; great album artwork, even just for this song (though the entire Vitalogy album artwork is legendary); and, finally, it got better with age, and turned into Pearl Jam's greatest live song (and the second great live rock song ever).

From the eerie picture of a dental x-ray of Ed Vedder's teeth, to the shout of "I'll take the varmint's path!," the song is a salvo against media intrustion, a cry for being oneself and keeping oneself amidst turmoil. It is both furious and calm, reflective and pensive, open and closed off.

It struck me, listening to the live version from the 2006 New York show (2nd night), as the band described the feeling of the stage shaking the night before when they played the song, that "Corduroy" had become more than just a mission statement for survival and a "piss off" rallying cry to intrusion and invasion of privacy - it had become an anthem of a bygone era when youth was confused, and our heroes from Seattle didn't promise answers. They delivered comfort. Admitted they were confused, too. And as we've grown up, they've grown up with us... but we can always take comfort in that shared moment of youthful confusion, of energy, of lost-in-the-woods-but-don't-give-a-fuck bliss.

And, having experienced several Pearl Jam shows myself - and having felt a balcony shake, in the Fox Theatre in St. Louis, as the band played the song and crowd went insane with joy, pain, old confusion and musical connection - I can say without a doubt, that it is Pearl Jam's best live song (consistently, anyway), it's the best song of the 1990's and the era of Seattle rock (alternative, grunge, whatever you want to call it), and it is the second greatest live rock and roll song of all time.

As for the first greatest rock and roll song of all time... well, that's a story for another day.

Anyway, in closing, here is what I wrote on my old blog, back in September of 2005, in an article where I discussed how Vitalogy is the defining album of the '90's:

The booklet for the next song featured an x-ray of teeth - instead of a lyric sheet. "It is about a relationship but not between two people. It's more one person's relationship with a million people. In fact, that song's almost a little too obvious for me. That's why instead of a lyric sheet we put in an X-ray of my teeth from last January and they are all in very bad shape, which was analogous to my head at the time." Vedder and the band struck pay-dirt though - the song is arguably one of the greatest rock and roll songs of all time. "Corduroy" was born - and a million PJ fans would never be the same.

Ah, time will tell, as with everything... but yeah, that right there kind of says it all.

Some Die Just To Live

The existential journey continues, just like it should. Today, there's been some interesting thoughts swirling in my mind... about relationships, music, and cigarettes.

I am addicted to the promise of what could be. Say that again - the promise of what could be. It's a rediculous idea, almost, but it is so pure, so simple, and so very real, at the same time.

For instance: Jeff Buckley. I mean, really, does any more need to be said? Jeff Buckley. A pure shot of genius, gone before it was fully realized and developed, gone before we could fully appreciate it. Of course... we would've grown bored, maybe even angry with it, maybe tried to destroy it. Isn't that the American way? (Is produces isn't?)

For me, many things are like Jeff Buckley. I am addicted to the promise of what could be. I don't see it as a bad thing, but it can sometimes be a sad thing. I have high expectations, for myself, and sometimes for others.

But mostly, like anyone else, I want to do something meaningful, want to be remembered.

I think Reznor said it best: "I want to fuck everyone in the world, I want to do something that matters."

Sure, that's a little extreme, but damn, the sentiment hits home, very hard.

I just hope that I am never left as the promise of what could be. As I said... I am. Hopefully, what I am is good, becoming great. Fully Realized. And destined for destruction at the hands of American Culture.

Don't Sell Me There Can't Be Better Ways

I recently had a discussion with a close friend of mine. In this discussion, she brought up that I frequently seem to be trying to make everyone around me happy - that I focus more on trying to please everyone all the time, and in doing so, frequently stretch myself beyond my means. She may be very right - case in point, she reminded me that I seem to shut everyone out on the last day of the week, just to be able to do my household chores and, more importantly, have some time for "just me."

It strikes me as odd... I fear being a selfish person. I mean, I want what I want, but I don't want others to see me as selfish. I have standards, goals, values, ideals of near-perfection I would like to see met - and, truthfully, differing levels of drive and ambition to find or reach the goals (my on again-off again exercise schedule can attest to that). Some things I stay locked into and refuse to let go of, and others get pushed away or but aside until a more convenient time.

Maybe I should be more selfish, and try to seize what I want? I like to think that a balance is needed in this realm... as in all realms in life. But... maybe I have let myself go for to long, that is is time to do something for me?

You know, like reading ancient chinese philosophy...

Who are you... who you are.

"Is and Isn't produce each other.

Hard depends on easy,
Long is tested by short,
High is determined by low,
Sound is harmonized by voice,
After is followed by before."

from Tao Te Ching

I recently read that stanza. It really hit home, especially "hard depends on easy," and "after is followed by before."

When I get into my existential moods, my mind tends to turn in circles. This weekend was very existential... with a little more prayer than I've been used to lately, some philosophical reading, and watching some good television that made me ask all the right, big, important questions. Of course, my parents grilled me a little about girlfriend issues, and I spent time with a married couple I am friends with, and heard another friend's "going out" stories. It is all relative, and is yet not.

I am who I am. I am. Simply. Inexplicably. Forever, and yet finite. I am the long and short. I live the hard and easy. I am the after and the before.

But, best of all... I am.