Preach Beauty Always and, When Necessary, Use Words

The difficult part of writing on, or discussing, a meaningful experience is that we run the risk of diminishing what was more amazing for us than we can attempt to match with the words at our disposal. “Awesome” is overused. “Crazy” sounds too frantic. “Righteous” rings a bit too much of the eighties. Though I don’t doubt your lexicon reaches beyond these clichés, a movie, a book, a poem, a concert that moves us (higher) incites some innate, beneficent desire to share, to want others to know the tingle, the warmth, the “a ha!”, the inside joke, the connection, the lift. This business of communication is an important one, indeed, and we constantly, consciously or otherwise, probe the limits of language when sharing what happens in our lives with others.

Seeing Explosions in the Sky is an experience beyond words, causing one to wish that there were some beauty-language (Hopelandic) that would successfully express to another a taste of what this band is about, what they create onstage, weaving wonders of aural alchemy that turn to some kind of gold when spread about enraptured audiences. The Texas-based instrumental band(connect to website) visited Congress Theater in Chicago on July 2nd. The day marked their ten year anniversary as a band which, with the difficulties that artists working together often face, quietly impresses. Standing at the lone vocal-microphone at stage right, Munaf Rayani, one of the three guitarists (there isn’t any obvious spotlighting of a frontman) softly spoke his traditional and ever-perfect introduction for the band: “My name is Munaf, and we’re Explosions in the Sky from Texas, USA,” walking toward the band to the rumble of an audience already roaring with anticipation.

For the next hour and a half, they soared, climbed, ventured into the sky, giving off radiant explosions of harmony the whole way. Not a word was spoken during the set – the band is entirely instrumental – yet their performance was evidence enough that meaning is deeper than words. Craig Detweiler, co-author of A Matrix of Meanings, says of ambient music, Sigur Rós in particular, “Without learning a new tongue, listeners get involved in the moods created by the music. Interpretations begin from feeling, not thinking, engaging “sentences of harmony.” The word “sentence,” after all, comes from the Latin verb “sentire,” meaning “to feel.”

For music void of lyrics, the possibilities for connection with the listener are as infinite and intricate as the tiny refractions in his personality and disposition, as intimate as the impact of words spoken and glances exchanged throughout her day. This approach makes the recipient the sole interpreter of the material, and each listener brings a different interpretation to each song. While it makes discussion difficult, this difficulty reminds us that music is about music, about a shared experience, not about our ability to dissect or describe or translate.

Language is not an absolute, nor is it static; it combines infinitely subjective and particular definitions, which is both its mystery and beauty. As I continue in life, I find that words are continually redefined and shaped: beauty, trust, faith, love, friendship. Language finds itself at a curious crux: we have “objective” definitions, what one might find in a dictionary, that give us some point of reference. However, the word “family” in your mind may be radically different from the concept I have in my mind, based on our diverse experiences, which outlines the importance of intentional communication, and the peril of assumption. We have to constantly learn one another’s language. As Carl Sandburg wrote, “When will we all speak the same language?”

The music of Explosions in the Sky leads to a necessarily idiosyncratic experience, one that all I was with at the time agreed was “Awesome.” Sometimes “Awesome” simply has to suffice for something so, well, explosive.

(Thanks to BA for the helps in editing this one)

PS - This passage is from Wendell Berry's essay, "Local Knowledge in the Age of Information," and, if I were a better writer I'd revise my essay to weave this one in, yet I think you'll make the implied connections and not mind the add-on approach:

"There is in addition for us humans [concerning knowledge], always, the unknown, things perhaps that we need to know that we do not know and are never going to know. There is mystery. Obvious as it is, we easily forget that beyond our sciences and arts, beyond our technology and our language, is the irreducible reality of our precious world that somehow, so far, has withstood our demands and accommodated our life, and of which we will always be dangerously ignorant."

Mm.

But Seriously, Let's be Ironic

For a long time, irony was synonymous with sarcasm, in all its cynicism and sometimes-subtle deprecation. It was difficult to reconcile a love for joking and absurdity with my love for others, especially when my dad maintained that "Sarcasm is a sin," quoting Matthew 5.37 (Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No'; anything beyond this comes from the evil one). How, I wondered, could it be sinful not to say what you mean? Don't we do that all the time? Is it ever possible to say what we truly mean?
Contemporary culture has been critiqued as pervasively ironic beyond any semblance of intentional sincerity (think: the hipster ethos, complete with Kanye West sunglasses, mustaches, Nike hi-tops, other tongue-in-cheek accouterments). However, in his editorial for Image magazine, Gregory Wolfe argues that irony is something quite different from that which is often labeled as such in contemporary postmodern culture. Irony, he believes, is something different from the "bad faith" we often see manifested through attitudes of evasiveness and biting insincerity. He writes,

"The simplest definition of irony that I’ve encountered is “the recognition of a reality different from the masking appearance.” The goal of the artist is to enable his or her audience to encounter irony as a moment of recognition, an awareness of the disparity between appearance and reality. Like many of the artist’s devices, irony is something of an interactive game, requiring a discerning mind that is willing to sift through the evidence and draw conclusions. When irony is used by the greatest minds, recognition can become revelation, a way of piercing through the ambiguities of daily life to a fleetingly-glimpsed truth."

Irony is not condescending or embittered. It "reminds us of how difficult it is to achieve the transparency of true sincerity" with our words. There is a playfulness to it, a recognition and acceptance of the limits of language and communication that can be used to great effect (see: "A Modest Proposal," and try to take it seriously). Sincerity is, I believe, one of the most noble aspirations in a relationship. And for a while, I believed that sincerity meant approaching conversation with a somber, no-nonsense attitude. However, after meeting certain people and seeing how they go about play-talking with one another, I saw the joy and imaginative liberation of irony.

Recently I've come across a few thoughts on Jesus' irony and playfulness, which breathe fresh air into the figure who is, more than maybe anyone else in history, painted as dull and vapid. This, from Wolfe's article:

"To my mind, Jesus is the supreme ironist. It is impossible for me to think of his parables, or the many koan-like conundrums he poses to apostles, Pharisees, and gentiles, without sensing his playful use of indirection, that teasing form of testing those who encounter him, that is the essence of irony."

And, from the book A Matrix of Meanings: Finding God in Pop Culture commenting on this passage: "The Bible is a subversive document with a wicked sense of humor that spares no one. Unfortunately, many of its pointed words shoot right over our heads and miss the opportunity to liberate our hearts." I don't think God didn't smile a little bit to himself when identifying himself as "I am that I am" to Moses in Exodus 3.

It seems that we need to recover this playfulness, this teasing indirection that relieves much of the tension of somber dialogue. There is a time for direct addressing of issues, when jocularity ought be put on pause. However, Wolfe's distinction between irony and "bad faith" is especially relevant when trying to figure a way of delightful indirection in a culture of cynicism and condescension. We would do well to learn from Swift, Sedaris, and even the Son of God.

Threw It in the Garbage Bin

My original idea for the title of this blog:

"A Dorn In Your Side"

Not sure how many people that one would have drawn.

Let's Start With a List

Working in the Boring Store at 826 Chicago is anything but dull. There are the ever-curious customers, quirky staff members, the endlessly interesting items scattered throughout the store and, of course, a shelf of McSweeney's publications. I was browsing through one, Created in Darkness by Troubled Americans: The Best of McSweeney's Humor Category, and came across a section of lists toward the end of the book. This one evoked an un-stifleable laugh or three, and I think you'll enjoy, too, oh currently-dedicated reader. Our lasting relationship is a constant in my life that keeps me going.

Music Industry Trends Not Yet Overexposed
by John Moe

Trance tuba
Self-deprecating hip-hop
All-dog bluegrass
Mild Salsa
Teamsta rap
Immature adult contemporary
Back hair metal
Gangsta polka
Amino acid jazz
Despairaoke
Barbershop quartet-core
Pyschedelic chamber groups
Hard on the outside but with a squishy nougat center-core
Graduate school rap
Halfway-house music
Reasonable speed metal
Jazz-crap fusion
Blank tapes

What is it that is so wonderful about lists? Is it the minimal effort : massive enjoyment? Is it the fun of making obscure connections? Is it the catharsis of organization? Who wrote the first list? Did Adam start one when he began naming animals? Does God have to-do lists? Did the Israelites have moral to-do lists that they left on their fridges but then became so used to them that they blended in with the rest of the family photos, which ultimately led to their numerous falls from grace? I'm reading a bit of the Old Testament now - don't worry, there aren't that many references I can make. Unless you dare me.

P.S. - And then someone showed me this: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/