The 7 Greatest "Self-Esteem" Building Songs of all Time

To refer to this list as the 7 greatest "self-esteem building" songs of all time is a bit of a misnomer, for the notion that one should sing a song to themselves about how great they are, or offer counseling advice on how to elevate one's self-importance is not what is traditionally done in music. In the past, songs were written on any number of subjects, none of which involved psychological navel gazing. So this list really only covers the last four decades, because prior to that time it would have been inconceivable to the balladeer to write a love song to himself (actually it would have been an abomination). If we are to give this self-nurturing mentality a charitable read, we should say that many such individuals are simply trying remedy the apparently popular trend of self-loathing. Yet the real question for these Oprah disciples is whether or not going to a spa and declaring one's undying love for one's self is the key to escaping the aforementioned pit of despair.


7. Firework - Katie Perry

The worst aspect of the self-help mentality is also the best part. For example, it is quite commendable to offer encouragment to someone in need of it; "Do you ever feel like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, wanting to start again? Do you ever feel so paper thin, like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?" So why is there a problem? Because she provides a remarkable diagnosis, but fails to offer any real path to health other than; "Hey, you're great, and all you have to do is believe it!" That is not to say that many young people wouldn't be comforted by such words. Indeed, anytime we feel that someone understands us it can bring great solace. However, if your doctor after correctly diagnosing your disease then told you that the prescription for health was simply to "feel better," then you might get a second opinion. In the same way, no one can be commanded to "love themselves" or to accept that they are "beautiful in every single way" by decree of a pop artist. Quite the opposite; one ceases to feel "like a waste of space" when they realize that their sense of worth comes not from themselves but from God, and one ceases to feel like they are "buried deep" when they get outside of themselves and reach out to people who have an even greater need than they- which brings me to my biggest beef with all of this inner-child worship. The key to feeling like a "firework" is not through self-admiration, nor is it by way of glorifying yourself and realizing how wonderful you are. The solution is the exact opposite of what is suggested in this and other songs. What makes people so miserable is not their failure to think about themselves enough (especially adolescents). That's practically all they do. Rather it is their failure to move beyond that terrible self-pitying isolation and into the world of others. If you want to "ignite the light" then do it by being a "light" to others, not by basking in the flame of your own personal glory.


6. Hero - Mariah Carey

It is not a tremendous surprise that artists who themselves spend a great deal of time looking in the mirror, should try to convince us that we too should do the same. In fairness to Ms. Carey, however, "Hero" is not so much about admiring one's self, as it is about convincing her listeners (and perhaps, sniff sniff, herself) that they have something "special in their soul". And that would not be so bad were she only recommending that her listeners keep their chin up, but alas, it goes well beyond that; "You can find love if you search within yourself and the emptiness you feel will slip away... And then a hero comes along with the strength to carry on, and you finally see the truth, that hero lies in you." The implication in this song is that one really doesn't need other people in the end (except a Diva who writes a song about it). All they need to do is "search within themselves" (really deeply) for a magical wellspring of love and hope; a wellspring that for some unexplained reason is there in the first place. I thought that the point of the song was that these sad individuals ultimately felt terrible about themselves. So why would it make sense for them to look even deeper into the pit of despair? Perhaps if she explained why there is something "special" within each of us I could make sense of it, but indeed there is no rhyme or reason; it's simply there because it's there. When I hear this song it reminds me of the type of person that will only say "bless you" because they want to offer you a blessing without acknowledging the one who blesses, or someone who tells you to have "faith", but never tells you in what. Incidentally, if this song were looking for a date (though it seems quite pleased to go stag), I would probably set it up with Five For Fighting's "Superman", for he too is a "hero" who is looking for "special things inside of himself."


5. Big Girls Don't Cry - Fergie

In this song by Black Eyed Peas singer, Fergie, we receive a lesson in complete narcissism. If you want  tips on how to sacrifice everyone and everything on the altar of your own quest for self-discovery, this is the tune for you. The general theme of the song revolves around Fergie's need to leave behind a relationship that leaves her feeling like she is spinning her wheels. Anyone can sympathize with being stuck in a relationship that is going nowhere, but what is entirely unsympathetic is the fact that she seems to be imputing courage and virtue to herself for breaking the poor guys heart; "... You're probably on your flight back to your hometown. I need some shelter of my own protection, baby, to be with myself and center; clarity, peace, serenity." So whoever this guy is, he'd better understand that she's thinking about him, yeah, but he dare not come between her and her precious time with herself, which will probably include at some point a massage and pedicure. "I hope you know, I hope you know, that this has nothing to do with you." Oh, but I think it does... "It's personal myself and I. We've got some straightening out to do. And I'm going to miss you like a child misses her blanket, but I've got to get a move on with my life..." There are no wasted words here. It is inconceivable that anyone could fit so many self-serving statements in such a small space. Right off the bat, she delivers a most patronizing sentiment; 'I just don't know what I want right now, maybe I'm just too messed up to be in a relationship right now.' I suppose you could tell him point blank that the relationship has hit a dead end and then face the consequences for it. But no, you take the "nobler" path by breaking someone's heart and at the same time pitying yourself. Fergie then commits one of the most egregious sins referring to herself in the third person; the unholy Trinity of me, myself, and I. Apparently, Fergie has no time for relationships unless that relationship involves the various personas of Fergie. And then to cap it all off she has the audacity to tell this guy (as if she hadn't done enough to make him feel about as valuable as a napkin) that she's "gonna miss him like a child misses her blanket, but she's gotta get a move on with her life." Whoever this lucky chap is, at least he can take comfort in the fact that this long term relationship means about as much to her as a used up old rag from childhood, albeit a nostalgic rag.


4. Dance - Lee Ann Womack

It is a little difficult for me to criticize this song because I have to confess I kind of like it. Admittedly, the chorus is rather weak, but the song in general is remarkably pleasant and uplifting; "I hope you never lose your sense of wonder, get your fill to eat but never lose that hunger... I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean, whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens, promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance. So when you get the choice to sit out or dance. I hope you dance... I hope you dance." What makes this better than most of the songs on this list is;  a) the song is not about encouraging self-centeredness, but an attempt to inspire perseverance and fight;  b) The recommendations are generally good ones. She is encouraging awe at the beauty of creation, hope in the face of adversity, and an invitation to get in the fight as opposed to "sitting it out." So you might be asking yourself, why then is it on the list? The song itself is simple and sweet enough, were it left at that... but alas, nothing can just be simple these days. Instead, it has been turned into a kind of Chicken Soup for the Soul classic, a Hallmark moment for those who like vaguely spiritual sounding lyrics, as well as nebulous advice that really doesn't demand anything of you. For example, few could argue with the demands put forth in chorus, namely that we should "dance" (I know it's meant to be metaphorical, but one can practically impute anything to such a metaphor). They could not just leave the song alone, but had to lionize it, like some innocent child pushed into modeling because she is just too adorable. Thus, instead of only having to hear the song on the radio occasionally, we have to see the book "Dance" enshrined in the windows of Barnes and Nobles and every local country book shop. And what does this book of wisdom consist of? It consists of the lyrics to the song distributed throughout a book with fabulous pictures of landscapes and the distinct impression that we have truly pondered the deep mysteries of life. The only thing missing from the book is a picture of a cat clinging to a branch with a caption which reads; "Hang in there!" Sadly, by elevating it beyond what it should have been, it comes off a little bit too much like a glorified fortune cookie- or one of those wizened calendars that seeks to enlighten the reader with sage words on a daily basis; "Remember, to every acorn there is tree, and to every tree an acorn, and the love you make is the love you take... blah blah blah."


3. Silent Lucidity - Queensryche

Who would ever expect a metal band to be on the list of self-help songs? But remember- most 80's metal bands also had power ballads. Silent Lucidity was Queensryche's so called "power ballad." Even so, what makes it different from other power ballads is that it is not about romantic love, but about exploring one's dreams (literally). Heavy metal and the New Age (which is the spiritual arm of the self-help sensation) are strange bedfellows, but they do have their commonalities. The New Ager is into mysticism and the occult, while heavy metal certainly dabbles in the mysterious forces behind things. In the case of Queensryche, their little detour into the realm of dreams, stands out if only because, well, it really does stand out. Indeed, nothing else they wrote could be classified as a "how to" manual on dreams, or be mistaken for something you might find in the New Age section of a book store. "Hush now don't you cry, wipe away the tear drops in your eyes. You're lying safe in bed, it was all a bad dream spinning  in your head... So here it is another chance, wide awake you face the day your dream is over... or has it just begun?" Do you have chills now? I know I do. This should be the theme song to the movie Inception. At any rate, he calms the little boy in the song by insisting that he can help him achieve "dream control" if he will only sets his mind to it. Yet what is not calming about this song is a series of creepy voices in the background, coupled with the lead singers intentionally Pink Floyd-esque vocal stylings. It is, I am guessing, their attempt to create a dream-like atmosphere; "If you open your mind for me, you won't rely on open eyes to see. The walls you built within come tumbling down and the new world will begin." I'm glad to know that I have a dream expert here with me who can help me perfect and master the art of dream manipulation: a rather trippy prospect. Why am I trying to achieve "dream control" again? Is it so that I can manipulate reality and bend it completely to my will, is that the important lesson here? Dreams are obviously important to us, but I always thought that the awe-inspiring thing about them was that they went beyond our imagination, not that they were constricted to it. Yet that is precisely what self-help is all about, bending everything to fit your vision of reality. The chorus of the song is the spookiest of all, though I think it is supposed to be soothing; "I will be watching over you, I will protect you in the night... I'm smiling next to you in silent lucidity." Yeah, I'm about as comforted as a boy who is watched over at night by a smiling clown. Who's watching over me again? Is he a parent (best case scenario), is the singer making himself into God (worse), or is it some dream expert hired to loom over me as I sleep at night and make sure I dream the right way? Whatever the case, this emphasis on controlling your dreams is right up the alley (or aisle) of the self-help section of any bookstore.


2. I've Never Been To Me - Charlene

This song would be #1 on the list were it not for the fact that, far from telling herself how wonderful she is, "Charlene" is actually criticizing herself and the life she has led. She is not saying that a little more regard for herself is the perfect tonic for happiness, she is lamenting that she wasted her early years on a dissolute lifestyle. This is hardly the recipe for self worship. Rule #1 in the book of Self Help is you never blame yourself when there is a perfectly good relative to blame (or dead horse to beat). The key point is this: everything that is right in your life is because of you, and everything that is wrong is because of someone else. That is the yellow brick road of happiness. You are God, and everyone and everything else should just accept this glorious fact! Unfortunately, Charlene grew up in an era where one inevitably attempts psychologize everything and use phrases that are more at home in the theatre of pop psychology than a ballad about regret; "Oh I've been Georgia and California and anywhere I could run. I took the hand of a preacher man and we made love in the sun. But I ran out places and friendly faces because I had to be free. I've been to paradise but I've never been to me." It is a noble and understandable sentiment to want to go back and have a "Come to Jesus" talk with yourself, especially at those times when you were most reckless. However, having a conversation with yourself in a song can't help but to feel a little like the type of role playing exercise that a psychiatrist (or New Age guru) employs in order to familiarize you with your inner child; "Now I want you to imagine that you are here with yourself at age seventeen (these are my lyrics not hers). Talk to yourself and give yourself a little advice." It feels, well, just so 1970. Your heart can't help but to break when she speaks about how she weeps for "children she will never have," but the problem with her weeping is that she is not doing it for her children unborn, but for the fact that those children would have "made her complete". Which leads to, in my opinion, the most glorious self-help line of any song. Charlene has been to paradise, but you know where she's never been? "She's never been to me." I get what the sentiment is supposed to represent, but I have to disagree profoundly with her conclusion. The problem is not that she hasn't "been to herself." From the sound of it that's practically all she's been to. There is a reason the phrase, "I've never been to me", is grammatically incoherent, because it is a logical contradiction. The primary way you "get to you" is not by grieving over children that would have made you complete, but by grieving for all the people that you could have unselfishly served. Because she has spent all of her time serving herself, she has, as is noted Scriptures, lost herself; "for those who save their life will lose it, and those who lose it for my sake will save it." Now if she could just turn some of that 70s solipsism into something a little more pro-active, something which employs her regret in a more reform-minded way rather than despairing over a past she cannot change, then she may actually get somewhere.


1. The Greatest Love of All - Whitney Houston

If Satan wrote a love ballad this would be it. I say this with full recognition that people romanticize this song about as much as they do John Lennon's Imagine. Originally performed by George Benson in the late 70s, Ms. Houston was the one who ultimately made it famous (kind of like "I Will Always Love You"). The song starts off innocently enough, celebrating youth and recognizing their role in building the future; "I believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way, show them all the beauty they possess inside..." I'm with you so far. "Give them a sense of pride to make it easier. Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be..." OK, now the message is a little foggier. What is the topic again? "Everybody's searching for a hero. People need someone to look up to. I never found anyone to fulfill my needs; a lonely place to be, and so I learned to depend on me." This has to be one of the weirdest trojan horse songs of all time, for at one stage we are musing about the beauty of childhood, and then the next moment we are talking about how the songwriter never found anyone worthy of his trust and so concluded it was best to look up to himself (I'm trying to imagine what that would look like); "I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadow, if I fail if I succeed, at least I live as I believe. No matter what they take from me they can't take away my dignity..." Now it sounds like we're getting a little paranoid. But fear not, oh mighty navel gazer, thankfully you've got yourself to protect you! "Because the greatest love of all is happening to me. I found the greatest love of all inside of me. Learning to love yourself it is greatest love of all." Forgive me, but I have the greatest video montage of all in my mind for this (somebody please make it). It would include a series of images representative of what is being spelled out here. First you would see a man in a field with his arms wrapped around himself, dancing and leaping for joy. Then you would see a man in a straight jacket embracing himself in a mental institution. Then the scene would shift to a woman holding flowers, boldly proclaiming that she bought flowers for herself because she deemed herself more than worthy. The video then would conclude with a recent news story about a women who recently proposed to and married herself with many emotional onlookers. There is a lot to be said for recognizing your own worth and value, but is that really achieved by becoming Stuart Smalley (see above)? We should no doubt love ourselves in the sense that we should recognize who and what we were made for. But whatever you do, please do not declare that worshipping yourself is the "greatest love of all." Worship the moon for all I care, but please do not light incense to yourself. By the way, I always thought that the greatest love involved laying one's life down for one's friend or dying for some cause greater than yourself, but I could be wrong. How can anyone be so brazen as to suggest that the ultimate goal in life is to be selfish? Can you really die for yourself? Such is the nature of the self-help genre that even when it acknowledges God, God tends to look suspiciously like ourselves.              

   

What I Learned from Mr. Miyagi

Beyond some incredible montages, the 1980s are probably best known, at least film-wise, for their attention to adolescent adventures. From Back to the Future to the Goonies to Sixteen Candles, it is difficult to deny their appeal. Even today, when I ask some of my students about these films, they seem to be at least moderately aware of their existence. I think that this is due in large part to the fact that they don't make too many "coming of age" films anymore, unless it involves some young man's "courageous" quest to explore his sexuality identity. Give me Sloth and Chunk any day over that crap. In any case, one such film that is almost universally loved and remembered by high school students is the Karate Kid. What is appealing about this film, no matter what the generation, is the fact that it involves, an underdog, a mysterious and wise teacher, and some nasty bullies that really do a get a fabulous, one footed, crane-kicking butt whooping in the end.

But apart from the fabulous closing scene, there is one other scene (or series of scenes) that looms large in my mind. Simply say to someone out of nowhere in a wizened Miyagi-like voice; "Wax-on Wax-off", and rest assured your friend will provide a demonstration without any further encouragement. Yet beyond the entertainment of having a friend show you karate moves of which he is incapable (think Star Wars Kid in his Garage), there is something else about these scenes which undoubtedly captures our collective imagination.

As campy as this film may be, Mr. Miyagi is a truly an unforgettable character. Even more unforgettable is the method he uses to instruct the young lad. For his part, Daniel (san) Russo wants to learn karate in order to confront some bullies that have been hassling him relentlessly. Fortunately, it turns out that his landlord, Mr. Miyagi, just so happens to be a black belt in karate and is more than capable of training him. So Daniel approaches him and expresses his desire to become his disciple. Reluctantly, Miyagi accepts Daniel's request, but only under one condition; "I tell you, you do. No questions, Okay? Walk on left side of road, fine, right side, fine; walk in middle, get squish like grape (insert grape squishing sound)." In other words, he tells the boy, either you give yourself completely to this, or don't do it at all. But whatever you do, don't do it half way.

Miyagi's first command is that the boy show up at sun rise the next day to begin instruction. Enthusiastic about his training, Daniel shows up at dawn ready to begin, but when he arrives, to his and the audience's surprise, he receives a very different kind of instruction. Miyagi hands the boy a sponge and a bucket. Apparently this mysterious man is some sort of collector of classic cars [that he appears to be fixing up] and he wants Daniel-san to wash all of them by hand and then wax them; a task that the boy must perform in a very particular manner. Indeed, it is not enough that the boy wash them and wax them haphazardly- he must use a technique whereby with one hand he "waxes on" and with the other he "waxes off". Of course this only makes his task all the more annoying and burdensome, prompting Daniel-san to initially protest. However, his protest is short lived, for Mr. Miyagi responds with a stern rebuke; "Daniel-san, remember our deal!" Consequently, Daniel resigns himself to the task.

The next morning Daniel shows up at the same time only to receive an equally onerous task. This time he must sand Mr. Miyagi's deck. Mind you, this is no small deck- it is a deck that extends throughout his backyard (it is part of an intricate Japanese garden). A slight variant of his original task, "sand the floor" involves the following motions; "right a circle, left a circle, breathe in, breath out." But as the day wears on, and all the work appears to be finished, Mr. Miyagi approaches Daniel-san who is clearly tired and sore and tells him "Good work, Daniel-san, go home, get some rest, start early tomorrow... six o'clock." Daniel says nothing, but it is clear by the look of dismay on his face that he is quickly losing patience with his master's regimen.

The following day is no easier for the boy, for what should follow "sand the floor", but "paint the fence." Like the previous tasks, this one also involves a specific motion (along with the requisite breathing). The paint the fence motion is one that involves both an up and down pattern and a side to side motion as well. At this stage, Daniel-san knows the program so he doesn't quarrel, but when he finishes the fence in relatively short order and points this out to his master, Miyagi simply points to the rest of the yard, indicating with his hand that Daniel-san's work has just begun; "whola yard." The movie does an excellent job of keeping you in the dark just enough to feel the sense of burden and futility that Daniel-san must feel as he is once again given a laborious task.

However, the last straw for Daniel-san occurs later that night when Mr. Miyagi returns from an apparent fishing trip, only to comment, not on the boys good work, but on the fact that he apparently had "missed a spot". Understandably, this intentionally glib comment sets Daniel off. Embittered, he begins cursing and accusing Mr. Miyagi of essentially turning him into a slave and using his karate instruction as pretext for getting free labor. But just as Daniel is about to walk away into the night cursing his master, Miyagi, shouts brusquely at him; "Daniel-san, come here!" Calming down a bit, Daniel approaches his master still frustrated to a large degree. What follows, as many of you now, is one of the more pleasing and satisfying scenes in cinema. Unbeknownst to Daniel-san, Miyagi was teaching him the fundamentals of karate the whole time. Thus, when he tells Daniel to stand at the ready, he finds that all of the monotony was not in vain. In fact, his muscle memory is such that when Mr. Miyagi tries to hit him, he instinctively blocks all of his attempts. The scene concludes with a flurry of moves by Mr. Miyagi, all of which Daniel-san is able to deflect thanks to the three primary motions that he had been learning during those days of toil.

From this sequence I have learned three major lessons. First of all, it (along with the rest of the movie) helped me to appreciate the virtue in karate. In some ways it is the most moral form of hand-to-hand combat, and in fact mirrors the Christian principle of how to engage one's enemies. The first aim is that of defense and not of assault. It is the art of trying to bring your opponent to submission, not by brutalizing him, but by subduing him. If this fails, and he will submit by no other means, then yes, one may have to employ a more offensive technique. But the larger aim is to avoid such an unpleasant exchange altogether.

Secondly, I learned from this scene one of the more essential lessons about the practice of religion. Whether in school, at home, or on the practice field, we accept, more or less, that we will have to do things that seem futile or meaningless in order to succeed at them. In the case of sports and other activities, we perform these disciplines, not because we think they are meaningful, but because we see them as a means to an end. They are our golden ticket to doing the things we want to do- whether that be driving the car, starting in a game, or getting an "A". Ultimately, we do these things for the pleasure that they promise, not for the discipline they impart. But what this movie so wisely articulates is the fact that, despite our superficial reasoning, all that annoying busy work (sports or otherwise) is not merely "busy work." This is not to suggest that there aren't instructors who do this, but most good teachers give their students work that they know will benefit them. The challenge from the teacher's perspective is that the student quite often only vaguely (at best) comprehends why such discipline is imposed. Consequently, what is so deftly communicated in this film is the reasoning behind certain essential, though monotonous, practices.

Indeed, one might even apply this lesson to certain "monotonous" practices in our religious faith. Like, why do we have to repeat the prayers of the Mass e-v-e-r-y Sunday. Or why do Catholics pray the rosary? Is God so hard of hearing that he has to hear the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be over and over again? And what's the deal with the Church's excessive focus on sexuality and the sanctity of life? One reason you could argue is if we say it enough times, someone might take the remarkable step of actually seeing the wisdom in these words. Another reason, I would suggest, is more pertinent to the movie. Men are, as it were, spiritual and psychological amnesiacs, and unless we tattoo certain principles in our very heart, mind, and body they will not find a permanent residence in our thoughts and actions. If there is such a thing as muscle memory, then there must also be a parallel in the spirit. And so the purpose of these little repetitive exercises is that they become second nature to us. An actor doesn't learn a script inside and out so that his performance is rote; he does so in order to make it as natural and spontaneous as a real life encounter. And indeed, what a joyous occasion it would be if we too were find (along with and Daniel-san), that all of this repetitious "nonsense" really had a purpose after all.

The last lesson I learned from the master- that is, Mr. Miyagi- is perhaps the most subtle and interesting one of all. Why didn't Mr. Miyagi just tell Daniel-san from the outset about his agenda? Why did he keep the veil of ignorance over Daniel-san's eyes as long as he did- knowing that it would push him to his limit? As an audience we accept this approach as if it makes perfect sense, but in truth it is anything but an obvious lesson. Mr. Miyagi could have said; "Don't worry Daniel-san. I am teaching you Karate moves. It is a special technique I use, and it follows from you learning the moves through repetition (something essential if one is to be a master at anything)." But no, he doesn't do that! Instead, he leaves the audience and Daniel under the impression that he may simply be playing games with the boy.

The lesson he must learn is the rarely appreciated discipline of trust through blind obedience. If the student cannot trust his master in things which are beyond his knowledge, then how will he ever understand what is beyond his knowledge? Parents will sometimes tell their children; "Because I said so". This may not always be the best approach, but it is not always possible, nor beneficial, to present your children with some sort of essay or thesis that explains their rationale for everything. Indeed, there is virtue in obedience alone. What I am suggesting is not some zombie-like servility, but one in which the student actively learns how to be flexible in a world that often is not. The truth is there are some things that a young mind can't (nor particularly wishes to) understand. For example, when a three year old reaches for the electrical outlet, you do not go on about the nature of electrocution and the galvinization of energy, you simply slap their hand. Perhaps at later time such an explanation is apropos, but at that point it is only possible to create an association between the light socket and danger. And this, in varying degrees, is the case at any stage in life. Thus, this radical trust must go well beyond the student's comprehension of things, and reach into the realm of "I can't understand, but I trust you, and so will do what you say." Without this profound trust, the student is doomed to know only what he immediately comprehends. Yet coupled with this form of obedience, he can then move beyond his limited capacity and truly understand the mind of his master. Some may scoff at the notion that anyone should have blind trust in anything, but there is no one who strives for greatness, who doesn't believe that their personal heroes are worthy to be trusted completely in their area of expertise.

In the Gospels, Jesus (the divine Miyagi) has his own Daniel-san moment with his disciples when he gives them his teaching regarding the consumption of his "body and blood." When many of his disciples are understandably shaken and disgusted by such a proposition, some choose to return to their former way of life. In the course of all this, Jesus never says anything like; "Wait, stop, please, I want to explain to you what I really meant." Rather, he lets them walk, and then turns to his apostles and says; "Will you leave me also?" Or on another occasion, when Jesus tells his apostles about his plans to restore Israel; a plan that includes torture, humiliation, and death by crucifixion. One can understand why such a pedagogical approach might be greeted with some genuine skepticism. It is almost as if Jesus is trying to shock and offend everyone on purpose. And indeed in some sense he was. For just as Mr. Miyagi had pushed Daniel-san to his limits, so also Jesus does with his disciples.

But why would Jesus want to push them away? Actually, it would be more accurate to say that he is trying to "push" them, rather than push them away. Like a great coach who tells an athlete, "I don't think you have enough heart to make it", the goal is not to provoke despair, but to see if there is any fight in the boy. "This is a long grueling journey and if you don't buy in completely, it would be better for you to turn back now... lest you get "squish like grape." Talent and passion will only take you so far. Without the recognition that you should "always look eye" when it comes to your master, you will never see things from the eye of the master. Most of all, what is required of the disciple is a flexibility of spirit. You must be capable of taking anything that is thrown at you- not bitching and complaining about it, but confronting and accomplishing the task that is set before you. Moreover, you have to be willing to go on even when you no longer physically, mentally, or even spiritually want to. Hence, the secret to genuine excellence is not your own personal comprehension of every single law or dictate of religion, but a divine adaptability, an internal freedom that grants you the liberty to proceed with courage, even when a cloud of uncertainty is overshadowing you.    

            

A Fitting Tribute on the Memorial of 9/11

The above video was played on VH1 almost every hour on the hour in the days following 9/11. This tribute in particular features footage from that day coupled with the song "Overcome" by the 90's alt band Live. There were of course other beautiful attempts to capture the tragedy, but for whatever reason, this one struck me in particular...

In the past, when I watched this tribute I generally thought about the events of that terrible day and where I was when it all happened. I was in seminary at the time and it was just before breakfast when the towers were hit. At that point in time, I wasn't really sure about the gravity or the nature of the attack- because I had heard everything second hand. Even so, as I went to the chapel to pray, I could hear one of my classmates weeping, and I knew that there was more to this than some unfortunate aviation accident. I wondered if it was the beginning of World War III. Thankfully, my fears were allayed.

This year, however, I watched the footage with a different sense of sorrow. I was not so much moved about something that had happened in the past, but rather moved by something that is going on as we speak. For whatever reason, when I saw those two towers collapse over the weekend, I saw them as representative of all of the division and confusion that seem to permeate our culture. I saw those buildings as the embodiment of our beloved- though painfully divided- nation. I thought of Jesus' words as he wept over Jerusalem; "'If only you knew what made for peace, but even now it is hidden from your eyes... O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those who I sent to you, how often I have desired to gather your children together, like a mother hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were unwilling!"' Luke 19:41-44; Matthew 23:37

Unlike many today, Jesus demonstrates here the substance and source of true patriotism. He is not some moralist demagoguing the misbehavior and misdeeds of the Israelites, nor is he someone who is blind to their apparent weaknesses. He loves Israel for her own sake, and is therefore heartbroken that she seems so bent on destroying herself.

Lest we forget what true patriotism looks like, let us remember how people behaved on that day and the days that followed that tragic attack. Let us remember the men and women that went into those fiery buildings in order to save the lives of people whom they had never met. What healed our great nation was not the ideology of the left or the right, but something that is incredibly rare in our society today; a humbler and quieter spirit, the noble sense that there is something infinitely more beautiful and desirable than self-interest. It was like a tremendous jack hammer cracking the horrible shell of indifference in our society, and for brief moment, men actually remembered who they were meant to be. If we fail to recognize this, then the attack on 9/11- and all that was lost on that morning- will have been in vain. Consequently, we remember not simply because it was tragic, but because it reminds us of all that is at stake. It is not about the evil deeds of some wild-eyed god-forsaken terrorist, but about calling to mind the marvelous unity of our people that shined forth from the heart of that destruction.

But one way or another, we will have to learn this most vital lesson, whether it be through the spirit of true patriotism, or by, as it were, reducing ourselves to smoke and ashes. If  we choose the former, it will truly be a joyous and exuberant re-awakening; if we choose the latter, then we will sadly have to come to this knowledge in a most painful way. "For the days are coming when your enemies will surround... and they will not leave one stone upon another." And as we stand amidst the wreckage and rubble of that future Ground Zero, we will finally come to the realization that what held this remarkable structure together in the first place was not merely human ingenuity, but an unassuming, though undeniably essential crossbeam.

              

Dead Poets Society and the Romanticization of Suicide

One of my favorite films growing up was the classic coming of age tale "Dead Poets Society". It was one of those films that as a young man you could relate to even if you yourself weren't attending an exclusive all-male boarding school. To this very day I enjoy watching it if only for the excellent cinematography and Robin Williams' sterling performance as the engaging literature teacher named John Keating. Yet in spite of all of these positive attributes and the overarching romantic vibe, there is also something in it which, in a quite remarkable way, embodies the mistake of romanticism.

Romanticism is a literary movement that began in the late 18th Century and ran until the end of the 19th century. It is characterized by an almost primitivistic attempt to restore man via emotion and imagination to his original innocence. The romantic poet wanted man to return to a tabula rasa-like state, whereby man, unconstrained by the framework of modern categories, could finally see reality again with a fresh pair of eyes. For many romantic poets like Blake and Wordsworth it was also a movement which began as a direct response to the Industrial Revolution. Obviously, there is nothing wrong with embracing nature and opposing a vision of society which seeks to mechanize everything; the mistake that the romantic makes is that he seeks to do this using rather dubious methods.

As it relates to the film itself, John Keating represents the type of teacher of which most students dream. He seems to be a bit unpredictable and "out of the box", and better still, he incorporates humor into his lesson plans, all the while maintaining high academic standards.  In one of the early scenes, Keating tells his students to tear out the pages of the introduction to their literature book. He tells them to do this because the textbooks suggest that you can actually grade and/or measure poetry, which is an abomination from his point of view: "We're not laying pipe! We're talking about poetry. How can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? 'I like Byron, I give him a 42 but I can't dance to it!' " When the students realize he's not joking, most of them begin to tear the pages out enthusiastically. During this tearing frenzy, another teacher hears the noise and comes in the room demanding that they stop. At first he doesn't realize that Keating is already there, presuming that this is student led chaos. However, once he sees that Keating is in fact in the room, he quizzically backs out apologizing for his intrusion. Later, when both teachers are seated at lunch, he questions Keating's teaching methods, calling them interesting, though terribly misguided. He then goes on to point out that Keating is taking a big risk encouraging young men to be artists when few, if any, will succeed at this endeavor. Keating responds by explaining that he is not so much teaching them to be artists, as teaching them to be "freethinkers." The other teacher then laughs, and says rhetorically; "Free thinkers at seventeen John? Oh come on!"

In another scene Keating takes the men down the hall and shows them photographs of former students. The pictures are all in black and white and as the boys stare at these haunting photos, Keating stands behind them and whispers in a ghastly voice; "Carpe Diem. Seize the day." His point is- as he soon indicates to the students- that they too are "worm food," and that they had better take full advantage of the time given to them, lest they fail to leave a proper legacy.

On a superficial level, who could disagree with any of these premises? For example, does anyone really want to stand on the side of that cynical faculty member who thinks of the students as little more than a kind of receptacle for information- incapable of any real independent thought? And how could anyone dispute that boys of this age should be passionate about their lives and look to leave a lasting impression on the world? Hence, the message of this film is not only appealing on an aesthetic level, but also on a practical one as well. After all, who could object to the notion that young men should contemplate the meaning of their existence? Yet therein lies the perfect Hollywood deceit. It is like a beautiful car without an engine, or a bike without a bike chain. If something looks beautiful and has the whiff of something profound, then it must be. Dead Poets Society is so near the truth, that any teacher (including myself) could use a great deal of the movie as a perfect model for his students. It is the worst type of deception because it forcefully represents all of the beauty of romanticism, while feigning complete ignorance about the dangers.

The epitome of this self-deception occurs when Neil, one of Keating's students, inspired by his professor's romantic vision of life, looks to try out for the Shakespearean play A Midsummer Night's Dream. Nevertheless, there is one major problem with him pursuing this role; his father sees this as a distraction and a utter waste of time. The father is a typical Hollywood straw man, a robotic, one-dimensional character who envisions his son being a doctor and will not countenance anything else. The mother is a virtual doormat who doesn't have the courage to question anything her dictatorial husband decrees. And of course all of this makes Neil's predicament even more sympathetic. For though he wants with all his heart to be in the play, he knows his father will oppose him. And indeed, he is right on this account. When he asks his father's permission to be in the play, the father rejects him outright. Consequently, Neil approaches Keating for advice on the matter, and Keating tells him to go to his father and tell him exactly how he feels, assuring him that that will convince him. Unable to muster enough courage to do that, Neil opts instead to disobey his father and act in the play anyway. In the end the father finds this out and shows up to watch the performance from the back of theatre. At first, the audience is led to believe that the father may be swayed by his son's exceptional performance, but as the play concludes, the father swoops in to extricate him from all of the accolades he is bound to receive. Indignant by his son's blatant disobedience, he shuttles Neil through the crowd past Keating and his friends, declaring that Neil will be attending a military school, which, from a Hollywood standpoint, is probably the academic equivalent of the ninth circle of hell. As the car pulls away, the camera focuses on Keating's face who looks at the departing vehicle with an expression of complete bewilderment and helplessness.
                   
When Neil and his parents arrive back at home, the father digs in his heels lambasting him for his insolence and ingratitude. While all of this is going on the mother just stares vacantly into space. And as Neil attempts to make one final defense of his cause, the father abruptly shouts him down, provoking Neil to impotently recoil into silence once again. Later that night, the father awakes with a start only to find that his son has presumably shot himself to death.  

It may be true to say that there are plenty of one-dimensional fathers out there; it may also be true that there are plenty of families that are like dictatorships in which there is no room for a child to dream or determine for themselves what their future will be. Nevertheless, what is naive about this film is the suggestion that being passionate for the sake of being passionate is the key to life, while realism, coupled with tradition, is inevitably wrong. I understand why a straw man like this might seem appealing to a youthful mind, but as is clearly demonstrated in the film, an unfettered romanticism really does lead to suicide. I do not deny that there are people out there like Neil's father, nor do I deny that some teachers are miserable blowhards, but my sense is that movie is not simply addressing an isolated incident, but rather presenting a manifesto on life; a manifesto that I would argue is rudderless.

And yet as charismatic as Keating is, he offers little rationale for encouraging his students to "seize the day". His reasons are purely sentimental. We should because... well... it's great and romantic and because we are all going to be "worm food" anyway. But is "passion" the only thing that is necessary in life? Terrorists are very passionate about their cause. Mobs tend to be full of "feelings". On the contrary, passion completely freed from its intellectual constraints is little more than an invitation to moral anarchy. "Memento mori" is a fine directive, but why should we remember our mortality? From the Christian perspective, we remember it because, yes, we need to leave our mark on life. But more importantly, we remember it because we will need to live with that "mark" for rest of eternity.

From the perspective of the director, Neil has been placed in an untenable situation by a father who is asphyxiating his creative energy. The audience can't help but to feel disdain for the father's utterly stifling ways. Even so, is the father really the only one to blame for the suicide? Indeed, the movie never once considers Neil's part in this, or even Keating's (he is subsequently fired, but the movie implies that there is an injustice in all this). OK, the father is a jerk, perhaps even worthy of our contempt, but could not Neil have waited his father out? Could he not have decided to put up with his father's nonsense a little while longer, and then "elope" into whatever life or profession he chose? No. What he chose to do instead is quite the opposite of honorable or romantic. He decides that his dad will never listen to him; and thus he has no other option but to take his life. But he doesn't just take his life, mind you, before he dies he puts on what appears to be a crown of thorns (it is in truth Puck's crown). He does this just so everyone can remember what a victim he really is. Great message! If at first you don't succeed, kill yourself. Jesus never put a gun to his head, claiming that he would commit suicide in order to save mankind- yet that is what this scene curiously implies. This is not the spirit of the true romanticism, but rather the spirit of Veruca Salt.

The night of the performance, as Neil's father shuttles him away, Robin Williams' face tells you everything you need to know about naiveté of romanticism. In all of the time he spent selling the young students on passion and poetry, never once does he teach them about the virtue and value of order and structure. Instead he tells them in essence that there are no boundaries, and then acts surprised when one of his students goes off the rails. Humans, especially teenagers, are naturally romantic; they don't need someone to tell them to be passionate. What they need is for someone to show them how to harness their passion. The ultimate mistake of the film is not that it criticizes the father's "realism", or even the traditions of the all male boarding school- the problem is it fails to see its own part in Neil's miserable demise. Indeed, both views are contributing factors in his death because both views have falsely pitted themselves against one another (like a head going to war with a heart). Thus, realism without romance is as cold and dispassionate as the father on the night of play, and romance without realism is a crown of thorns on the head of a boy who strategically lodges a bullet in his brain.                        
          

A Video That Hitler Would Have Hated...

A video that has recently become quite popular on YouTube, and was even featured this past week on ESPN, details an Ohio boy with cerebral palsy who competed in a 400 meter race against children without any similar limitations. At several points in the race, it looks as if the boy will not make it and perhaps even stop on the track. But spurred on by his gym coach and a spontaneous gathering of fellow students, he manages to persevere and finish the race long after the others. You would have to be hard-hearted not to be moved by such a spectacle- either because of the struggle the child had to endure, and/or because of the support he received along the way. Yet why do I even need to bring this up? Is this not a response which is "self evident?" Does not a sentiment like this come naturally to the human race? The simple answer to that is no.

The truth is you don't need to be Adolph Hitler or Friedrich Nietzsche to despise what is being celebrated in this video. Indeed, the pagans of the ancient world would have found such a spectacle more than a little curious. The sad fact is a boy like the one depicted in the video below- far from being recognized as a symbol of courage- would have been perceived (if he had even been allowed to survive infancy) as a drain and a disappointment, a life devoid of any real virtue or meaning. Consequently, scenes like this should remind us that had Christ not come, a video like this would have been absolutely inconceivable. After all, let's face it, the boy is not Usain Bolt. In fact, he can't run to save his life. Forrest Gump is an olympic medalist in comparison to this kid. Going strictly on appearances, this event is little more than an exercise in futility, an undignified and useless struggle to finish last- an outcome, by the way, of which there was never any doubt.

And yet, here are all these people moved and inspired and walking along with him, not because there is any great accomplishment in coming in last place, but because it is part of the air we breathe as Christians. So long have we been psychological Christians that we no longer marvel or even recognize how Christ has changed our perceptions of power and success. Of course, people still measure success by the standards of the world (which is fine because we do live in the world), but what Jesus introduces is an altogether unique barometer for measurement. What I am referring to here is the somewhat mystical recognition that the most impressive virtues in life are not necessarily those that come most naturally to us (like good looks, or innate athleticism), but rather those that come least naturally to us, like running a race in a body barely built to crawl. It gets us no where to compare a kid like this to Usain Bolt, for his success is not to be measured by sheer speed, but by an interior strength. What moves us to tears does not consist in his ability to break any records, it consists in his ability to persevere and bravely run a race that he is guaranteed to lose... by a lot. Ultimately this story embodies the mystery of Christian triumph- a riddle hinted at by St. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians; "Run the race so as to win...They (the pagans) do it to receive a perishable crown, but we an imperishable one" 1 Corinthians 9:24-25.

If we were to be honest with ourselves and see things as heaven sees them, we might realize that the boy with cerebral palsy is not just some poor sap that was fortunate enough to be king for a day, but a symbol of our own fragile humanity. We are all, as it were, palsied and limited beings (especially as fallen human beings), and we all need the help of our divine family- otherwise uninhibited by the aforementioned malady- to spur us on and encourage us until we cross the finish line. Indeed, our unique gift to God is not that we should all be a bunch of Adonises or Greek gods; our gift to him is that in spite of our blatant and almost shameful vulnerability, we demonstrate a profound unwillingness to be conquered. Therefore, we do not win this particular bout by sending our opponents to the canvas, but rather by- in the spirit of Cool Hand Luke- perpetually lifting ourselves off of it.          

What I Learned from Marilyn Manson

One upon a time, there was a young man named Brian Warner who transformed himself into a disturbing character named Marilyn Manson. I say "once upon a time", because let's face it, no one really cares much about what Manson is up to anymore. He has gone the way of all shock artists, for there are only so many ways to offend someone. It is like someone who gets progressively immodest; they can only remove so many articles of clothing before they run out of clothes not to wear. Perhaps another problem for him is the fact that he can't sing to save his life, while someone like Lady Gaga can at least carry a tune. At any rate, it has been a long time (in pop culture reckoning) since anyone paid much attention to Marilyn Manson, but let us go back for a moment and give credit where credit's due.

When people think of Manson's music they generally think of the shocking and sometimes horrifying imagery in his music videos. But whether you consider his performances blasphemy or a work of evil genius, you certainly can't come away from it without feeling one way or the other. Therein lies the problem with shock art, and modern art in general. It is not designed to inspire the soul so much as to deliver a rush of adrenaline. There is no room for subtlety in such a genre. Indeed, you can no more muse over a video like "The Beautiful People" than you can ponder the mysteries of giving someone the middle finger. As a result, such public displays are doomed to get swallowed up with all the rest of the cacophonous "look at mes" that seem endemic to the airwaves.

I will admit that of all the bands that have successfully "tried to channel Satan" only Tool has terrified me more than Manson. Congratulations! Due in large part to his remarkable "talent" for creating such hellish imagery, many have regarded Manson and his music as the epitome of what evil must be like. Would that evil were that predictable; "...and no wonder, for even Satan masquerades as an angel of light" (2 Corinthians 11:14). I wish the devil always presented himself in such an unappealing manner. If that were the case, 99% of people with good sense would turn and run in the opposite direction. No, the insight of Manson really does not lie in the fact that he drags everyone through a veritable madhouse of disturbing imagery- it rather comes from something not directly related to the songs themselves.

When he's been asked about his name, Marilyn Manson generally says that his reason for choosing it has to do with his embrace of extremes. In other words, culturally speaking, who could have less in common than Charles Manson and Marilyn Monroe? He has also stated that he developed the name because it sounded like the phoniest stage name he could come up with. His point in all this was that everyone makes up their own identity according to their taste, and furthermore, they do this with lies that are largely driven by our ego and our desire to elevate ourselves (sounds like a bit of projection to me). Ironically, as is pointed out by Mr. Warner, not only is his name a total fabrication, but even the famous names that he has lifted are to a certain degree fraudalent (the birth names of the two people in question are Norma Jeane Mortenson and Charles Maddox).

However, amidst all of this mind-numbing relativism (which is really just warmed-over nihilism), Manson has tapped into a bit of a theological goldmine- even if he himself does not recognize it. By constructing an image of himself around two characters that are polar opposites, he actually uncovers a truth about evil which is far more subtle and thought-provoking than donning black makeup and wearing colored contact lenses. Marilyn Monroe represents the glamour of the world. She is, if you will, a mask, or a "masquerade" for evil. While I place no judgments on the soul of Ms. Monroe, I do think it is fair to say that her public persona was a pleasant, though undeniably superficial, construct. Indeed, the Monroe persona was created, not out of some deeply held conviction about life, but rather as a means to garner as much attention for herself as possible. Yet beneath that veneer of glamour and glitz, she was a shell of a person, a lonely soul, a "candle in the wind", who found temporary solace in the practice of wearing this particular guise.

By contrast, Charles Manson was the reality behind the mask. Am I saying that Monroe was really a monster deep down? No. What I am saying is that the glamour of the world, apart from any real virtue or goodness, is the perfect host organism for the work of the devil. Thus, superficial beauty- that is, beauty without any real virtue or substance behind it- is not only empty, but it is the perfect occasion for mass deception. People weren't drawn to Hitler because he was a scary white dude with a tiny mustache and a keen hatred of the Jews. To the contrary, people turned the other way when he tried to exterminate the Jews precisely because he was [to them] an attractive and charismatic leader who told them in a believable way exactly what they wanted to hear. And as unappealing as Charles Manson may seem today, the reason he was able to convince people he was a mystical guru, has less to do with the Swastika on his forehead, or his bizarre vision of an end times race war, and everything to do with his own very special brand of groovy mind control flower power.

Thus, we are led to an example which I think utterly epitomizes this strange dichotomy (which I would argue is in truth a kind of complimentarity). Just as Charles Manson with his so called "commune of love" added a chilling counterpoint to the hippie drug culture of the time, so also the concert at Altamont, in California, added a haunting contradistinction to the relatively peaceful and idyllic scene at Woodstock. Now granted, everyone at Woodstock was probably peaceful and well-behaved because they were simply too high to do anything else, but nevertheless the atmosphere- at least on the surface- was a very different one. Fast forward to later that year at a concert in Altamont, with a guest list which included, The Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, and the Rolling Stones. At first glance, one might presume that this would be a relatively sedate affair (pun intended). It was not to be. Now it is true that if you look at the footage of the audience, there seems to be no shortage of young people looking about as aware as a poached egg, but what you will also observe in the video is an unusually large contingent of men in Hell's Angels jackets, on or near the stage. One of the primary reasons for this was the fact that the Rolling Stones, on the recommendation of The Grateful Dead, had opted to hire this gang of bikers to be the security for the concert. At the time this must have seemed like an incredibly "far out" idea, but in retrospect it was anything but. Earlier that day there had already been a violent incident in which a few "Angels" took to beating some of the audience members with metal rods- who they deemed were too close to the stage. And so as night fell, and the Rolling Stones took the stage, there was already a tension in the air. Arrayed in his black and red cape- Mick Jagger stepped up to the mic and began to sing Sympathy for the Devil to a crowd virtually enveloped in darkness. It is not hyperbole to say that all hell broke loose. And despite trying to calm the crowd down with such soothing words as; "Just cool out babies... cool out..", none of them seemed to be pacified. I mean who wouldn't feel a greater sense of ease during a riot if Mike Jagger told them from some safe location; "cool out babies... just cool out!" Amidst all of the confusion, a man can be seen at the edge of darkness being stabbed to death by one of the Hell's Angels. The footage is worth watching if only to observe the eerie disparity between the intensity of the "Angels ", and the alarmingly vacant doe eyed look of many in the front row. Clearly the Stones didn't know exactly what was going on in the fracas, which makes it all the more chilling when Jagger declares to the crowd; "Something strange always happens when we start that song..."

Years later the "complimentarity" of the two faces of evil was made even more plain, when in 1999 Woodstock attempted a sequel. During this incarnation of Woodstock, however, both of the aforementioned events would find their ultimate expression. It is certainly worth noting, that the kids at Woodstock '99 were the offspring of those who attended the original. And in the spirit of the original, they too brought with them their own brand of free love and drugs. Religious people are sometimes mocked for their naivete about the world, but there is also a kind of naivete among secular folks as well. Just as the hippies of old thought that the way to encourage peace and love was to preach hedonism, so their posterity commited themselves to a similar Gospel, but with a considerably different outcome. And just as Mick Jagger couldn't figure out why something "funny" always happened when he sang a song about the devil trying to garner sympathy for himself, so Fred Durst couldn't figure out why so many people began to rape, pillage, and burn things down after he sang a song about doing all of the above. Ah, the dreadful innocence of it all. Yes, there is another face to doing whatever "floats one's boat", and for some, depending on their particular temperment, simply sedating yourself doesn't do the trick. What does seem to float certain boats is to bash other human beings in the head with a metal rod in the style of the Hell's Angels.

These are the two faces of evil, and as Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones so kindly point out for us, it does not necessarily come to us in the form that we suspect; "Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name. Ah, what's puzzling you is the nature of my game." The combination of these "two faces" are an odd couple to say the least, and for those less attune to the "nature of his game", all of this chicanry may slip by without being recognized as such. The song itself- Sympathy for the Devil-  is an interesting one and could do with its own analyzation, but suffice it to say for now that the Stones, coupled with their performance at Altamont, along with our original inspiration, Marilyn Manson, demonstrate in a most provocative fashion how the devil can be both beautiful and vile all in the same breath.                          

                                

10 Songs on the Topic of Postmodernism

Postmodernity is not easily defined- in part because it seeks to eschew exacting definitions. If one were to describe it in psychological terms, one might compare it to a Rorschach test. In other words, when it comes to perceiving reality whatever a man perceives to be true is true. Such an individual makes no distinction between his truth and objective truth. It is probably easier to understand this creature not by what they believe in but by what they deny. The postmodern is skeptical about all long standing traditions; particularly concerning science, religion, and politics. Truth is to be found in one's own impressions of reality and not in some universal objective norm. No one truth is superior to another. In fact, the only sin in postmodernism, if it can be called that, is to call something a "sin". But as appealing as this approach may seem, this "open-mindedness" comes with its own set of problems. With the loss of absolute meaning, one feels as if life has become one giant Jackson Pollack painting, a collage of colors without any real shape or form; like one truth heaped upon another but without any rhyme or reason (see the above painting). For this reason music provides a good venue for expressing the nature of this postmodern anxiety, for it can only really be captured with broad impressionistic brush strokes, and certainly not by way of a discrete formula.


1. It's the End of the World as We Know It - R.E.M.

Even the lyrics of this song have a little Rorschach in them. Simply look up the words to this number (much less try to figure them out for yourself) and you will find as many versions as you look up. God only knows if even Michael Stipe knows what he's talking about here. Beyond that, "It's the End of the World as We Know It..." expresses the spirit of post modernity, especially in its chaotic attempt to piece together a series of disjointed ideas that conspire together to bring Armageddon. Listening to it makes one feel as if they have entered a wind tunnel where the most random objects are unceasingly being hurled at you; "That's great it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane. Lenny Bruce is not afraid. Eye of a hurricane; listen to yourself churn, world serves its own need, regardless of your own needs. Feed it up a knock, speed, grunt no, strength no. Ladder structure clatter with a fear of height, down height. Wire in a fire represent the seven games in a government for hire and a combat site..." Written in the late 80s, this ode to noise pollution was penned several years before the dawn of the Internet, but nevertheless feels a lot like an Internet news feed spewing at you every piece of bad news that the world has to offer (think Drudge Report on steroids). Indeed, one can't help but to feel a little depressed (or a lot depressed) when all of this disjointed information is hurled at you from every corner of the earth. But this is what it means to live in the post-modern age. No "truth" must be discriminated against, therefore we must all force ourselves to ingest an endless amalgam of useless information for no other reason than the fact that it's there. Stipe has his own reasons for writing this song, but whatever the case, he is certainly not alone in feeling that the world has somehow fallen off its hinges, and that, worst of all, it feels perfectly fine about it.

  
2. Every Day is a Winding Road - Cheryl Crow

It would be a mistake to presume that the child of postmodernity has no interest in truth. Oftentimes they are very convicted about their truth- what is repugnant to them is the idea that one truth is superior to another. They cling with stubborn loyalty to their own sentimental view of the world, without ever really grasping that pure subjectivism is a philosophical dead end. Every Day is a Winding Road outlines the emptiness and melancholia that one experiences when traveling down the road of life without an actual destination in mind. Indeed, a road trip is only fun if you know where you're going; "Jump in let's go. Lay back, enjoy the show. Everybody gets high, everybody gets low, these are the days when anything goes. Ever day is winding road... I get a little bit closer... Every day is a faded sign." Here she captures perfectly that postmodern view of life; a place where "signs" are fundamentally faded, and where you apparently get closer every day, though in reality you never quite reach your destination (sounds a little bit like hell, but that's just me). Life, according to this song, is a kind of show wherein you "lay back" and watch it as if it were little more than a mindless form of entertainment. The people all do as they please, and Ms. Crow takes it all in as if this performance were put on for her amusement. "He's got a daughter he calls Easter, she was born on a Tuesday night. I'm just wondering why I feel so all alone; why I'm a stranger in my own life... I've been swimming in a sea of anarchy. I've been living on coffee and nicotine. I've been wondering if all the things I've seen were ever real; were ever really happening..." In these revealing verses you see a woman who clearly feels isolated- despite her earlier recommendation to simply "enjoy the show." The man in the song is a "vending machine repair man," whom she meets as a result of her hitchhiking adventure. During their conversation the repair man starts talking about his daughter- and while he is speaking- she wonders to herself why she feels "so all alone" (which seems pretty obvious in light of the fact that he is talking about his family and she appears to have none). In the end, we do actually find out where this "winding road" leads, and it ain't pretty folks. The truth is if one ultimately denies the existence of a larger Reality, then sooner or later one is bound to start questioning their own. And Ms. Crow is a grand example of this, for she begins the song with relativism, and ends it wondering to herself "if all the things she's seen were ever real; were ever really happening..."


3. 1979 - Smashing Pumpkins

"1979" is a song about nostalgia from the perspective of a postmodern alt-rocker. But this is not your grandmother's trip down memory lane- for it involves romanticizing behavior that would seem down right strange to prior generations; "Justine never knew the rules. Hung down with the freaks and ghouls. No apologies ever need be made..." There is an element of the goth thing in this song, a kind of romance with darkness- not in the sense of loving Satan, but in the sense of celebrating the art of looking dreary and disinterested. While giving off a generally emotive feel (one of their album titles was Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness), they seem to enjoy thumbing their noses at any and every convention in society...except their own; "Shakedown 1979. Cool kids never have the time. We don't even care... to shake these zipper blues. We don't know just where our bones will rest... to dust I guess- forgotten and absorbed in the earth below." Not only do they not care about the "rules," they seem practically indifferent to the prospect of even death itself. What Corgan spells out here is the motto of a generation that has never really experienced anything resembling a normal family life, nor anything even resembling a solid religious foundation. Thus, the theme of rootlessness runs deep among the Gen-Xers. There is also among this group a visceral distaste for anything that smacks of phoniness. Unfortunately, in the process of avoiding said phoniness, the "freaks and ghouls" that Corgan speaks of wind up striking a predictable pose of their own.              


4. Born this Way - Lady Gaga

If Marilyn Manson and Madonna had a baby it would look like Lady Gaga. Gaga is a woman that expresses all of the exhibitionism of the "material girl", with all of the grotesqueness of Manson. But that is not why Gaga is on this list. In a way, her entire persona is the culmination of everything that we mean when we say postmodern. In fact, I would argue that Gaga is postmodernity incarnate. As witnessed by the trajectory of her career, she clearly wants to avoid any exacting definitions. Is she feminine, androgynous, or a drag queen? I suppose it depends on the day that you ask. Indeed, she is like a living piece of modern shock art that exists not so much to move the heart as to offend the mind. Or maybe she is a human Rorschach test, like some living shape shifter? From her point of view, a person is ultimately genderless and should be able to define themselves in whatever way that pleases them at any given moment; "Don't be a drag, just be a queen...No matter gay, straight, or bi, lesbian- transgendered life. I'm on the right track baby, I was born to survive. I'm beautiful in my way because God makes no mistakes. Don't hide yourself in regret, just love yourself and you're set..." This is practically a catechism for understanding the post modern mindset. In the positive sense- these words remind me of a Flannery O'Conner short story about a hermaphrodite who declares adamantly, "If you're laughing at me, then you're laughing at God. He made me this way! I'm a temple of the Holy Ghost." The post modern person is certainly not off-base in celebrating the dignity and worth of every human being- regardless of their peccadillos; the problem arises when they confuse the peccadillo with the person, or the "drag" with the "queen." The postmodern certainly appears to have a natural affinity for the outcast (a thankful holdover from the Christian Faith), but caring for the outcast means leading them out of the shadows- not surrounding them with more. This is the basic error of the postmodernity. They have such a heart for the misfit's lonely circumstances, that they forget in the process to free them of it. Unfortunately, Gaga's only advice in this regard is the typical psychological claptrap about "feeling no regrets and loving yourself for who you are". Thank you Lady Gaga, but I liked it much better when Whitney Houston said it back in the 1980s.


5. Do the Evolution - Pearl Jam
                  

This song (and its accompanying video) could best be described as Planet of the Apes meets Watership Down. With its blurring of the lines between man and ape, it paints a grim picture of the evolution of man; "I'm ahead, I'm a man. I'm the first mammal to wear pants. I'm at peace with my lust. I can kill 'cause in God I trust. It's evolution baby!" Humanity is headed off a cliff because it is rife with hypocrisy, arrogance, and an insatiable thirst for power. From a technological point of view, the good news is man has progressed far beyond his wildest imagination; the bad news is he is using that "progress" to destroy himself. If this all sounds familiar, it should, for it mirrors the story line of just about every science fiction novel ever written. Science fiction is a genre generally dedicated to the cause of fighting/outsmarting the terrible Frankensteinian beast that we've created; the one that incidentally has no regard for moral or ethical concerns. The hero of the story is often of the Noir variety, meaning, his ethics are a bit blurry, though he knows one essential thing; he does not approve of all of this technological totalitarianism. Vedder is very definite in his condemnation of certain ideas, but what he's not so clear about is why he is so definite. Yet technology is not the only thing he criticizes in this song- for he critiques man as well.  On the one hand, he wants to remind humanity that he/she is little more than an ape, and on the other, he is genuinely disgusted with man for behaving  like a degraded animal. I know, it's a logical contradiction, but this group does not hold themselves to the standard of logical consistency; passion is their only truth. In any case, perhaps if humanity did act more in accord with his self-proclaimed dignity, men like Vedder might not be so inclined to call the human race a bunch of glorified monkeys.


6. Across the Universe - The Beatles

If the postmodern man practices the Christian faith at all, then his idea of Christianity is likely to include a wholesale rejection of the institutional church.  Institutions can't be trusted, but we can of course trust ourselves (or so we think) in any and all things to make the best choice. At any rate, the brand of Christianity that usually arises from this  mentality tends to be a kind of theme-park Christianity, a place where the whole family can be entertained, and perhaps even enjoy a latte in the meantime. If Starbucks were a denomination, this is probably what it would look like. Religion, like everything else today, must be engineered in order to suit our general disposition. However, many in our postmodern culture are not inclined to follow Christ (especially not the commercialized version of him), so they turn to the East. A prime example of this embrace of eastern philosophy can be seen in the Beatles religious excursion to India. With the longstanding help of their beloved guru Maharesh Mahesh Yogi, they were able to create a delightful syncretistic Christian-Hindu mish-mash and insert it into their music. One Beatles song in particular that was inspired by this encounter in India was Across the Universe. Throughout the piece Lennon seems almost as if he were mumbling nonsense in his sleep. Indeed, the words along with his vocal styling meander in a kind of aimless morphine-like haze. And yet the chorus accidentally, I think, clears up any confusion about what this song might be about; "Jai Guru Deva. Om. Nothing's gonna change my world. Nothing's gonna change my world..." The postmodernist is willing to be "spiritual", what he avoids like the plague is "religion." He likes the former because it involves making your faith in your own image, while loathing the ladder because it binds you to a set of  principles and ideas that you yourself did not create. Hence, the utterances of Lennon make perfect sense in light of this, for he and others have looked to the east in order to find a way to feed their natural hunger for mysticism (especially the trippy kind), while simultaneously rejecting any religious ideas that might, God forbid, threaten to "change their world."


7. Another Brick in the Wall Part II - Pink Floyd

There is not a single song from the Pink Floyd repertoire that doesn't suggest postmodernism. Their first album, Piper at the Gates of Dawn, is a sunny celebration of child-like simplicity. With songs about Siamese Cats, Scarecrows, Borrowed Bicycles, and Gnomes, you get the sense that Pink Floyd is playing in the sand box of childhood merely to have a good time... and in a way they are. But this is not a return to childhood in the natural sense. Children have the freedom to let their minds and imaginations wander without restriction, for their parents' inevitably inculcate boundaries (like someone on recess duty). Both principles must inevitably be in place for a child to develop normally. Thus, if a man who is no longer an innocent child unleashes the power of his imagination- without any recognition of its appropriate limits- he is in danger of becoming one of two things; a psychopath or an invalid. For the original lead sing of the Pink Floyd, the latter was his fate. Tragically, he lost himself in a misguided attempt to recapture childhood- which can't merely be attained by behaving as you please and turning your brain into a lab experiment by using drugs. Another Brick in the Wall highlights (at least as its visualized in the movie) how ugly this complete rebellion against structure can ultimately become. It may all begin in the land of gum drops and marmalade skies, but it ends, as the video suggests, in a riot of destruction. For those who "don't need no education" it is not a tremendous surprise that their march to "freedom" concludes in flames. Indeed, it is hard not to see a little of the Lord of Flies in all of this. The words of the song have the feel of kind of mass hypnosis; "We don't need no education. We don't need no though control... Teachers leave them kids alone". It is at once a rebellion against the education system, and a repudiation of the education itself. Hence, if the man is wicked, then so must his message be also! Where does that leave us then? We are left with kids who speak in barbaric speech, who lack the basic skills of logic and reason, and who engage in anti-social behavior, but at least, like good modern barbarians, they are quite capable of burning everything to the ground.


8. Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

If there were ever a song that was the perfect offspring of Another Brick in the Wall Part II, then it would be this one. While Another Brick in the Wall states; "We don't need no education", Smells Like Teen Spirit shows what someone sounds like when they don't "get no education." Lyrically the song "smells like" a parody of Cobain's own generation; "Load up on guns, bring your friends, it's fun to lose and to pretend. She's over bored, self-assured. Oh no, I know a dirty word. With the lights out it's less dangerous, here we are now, entertain us... A mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido...yeah." In the grunge subculture, to be cynical and sick of everything is just about the coolest thing you can do. You don't even need to say anything- you only need to sneer. As a matter of fact, even as he delivers the words, one gets the feeling he has grown bored even with the act of articulating his boredom. Hence, by the time he reaches the chorus it sounds like he's just making stuff up as a kind of mockery of speech... which only becomes more evident at the end of the song when he literally is uttering nonsense. His final words are "a denial...a denial", which eventually morph into "ayaya ayaya ayaya" (I'm not sure about the spelling there). By concluding the song with this kind of gibberish, he offers us a brief picture of what complete "denial" looks like. In any case, it is not a surprise that the grunge scene was so brief for where does one go with their imagination once they've scorned everything in the landscape?            


9. Fake Plastic Trees - RadioHead

In the spirit of post modernism RadioHead seeks to walk a fine line between form and formlessness (both musically and lyrically). If their song Creep is an homage to being an outcast and a "weirdo," then the song Fake Plastic Trees is an homage to another popular theme for the post modern critic: the phoniness of the modern world; "Her green plastic watering can, for her fake Chinese rubber plant, in the fake plastic earth... That she bought from a rubber man, in a town full of rubber plans, to get rid of itself. It wears her out..." The cold mechanization of everything is leading to a world that is inundated with "fake plastic trees." Yet what he is getting at here is not merely the phoniness of the outer world, but the phoniness of the inner world of man. There seems to be among many postmoderns a healthy phobia of things that are counterfeit (which explains in part their penchant for environmentalism). Perhaps the greatest evil from their point of view is leading a "fake plastic" existence. Of all the post modern critiques on society, I am most sympathetic with this one, for in this regard I too am inclined to be a "weirdo" and a freak if only to avoid the "fake plastic" conventions of society. If you want to know one of the reasons this crowd doesn't take religion seriously, it is in part because the previous generations passed on to them reflexively, without ever really understanding or believing what they were passing on. It is for this reason, among others, that organized religion is verboten in their community. From their perspective it is little more than one "fake plastic tree" on a planet that is overrun with them.            



10. Black Hole Sun - Soundgarden

When talking about postmodernism, it is quite difficult to avoid apocalyptic images. There is an element within it that says; "there's no going back... so I guess the only solution is to go forward into the darkness". Avril Lavigne has a song (yes, I'm going to quote Avril Lavigne) that expresses this tragic orphan-like rootlessness that many of this generation feel; "Isn't anyone trying to find me? Won't somebody come take me home? It's a damn cold night, trying to figure out this life. Won't you take me by the hand, take me somewhere new, I don't know who you are, but I'm with you." Ms. Lavigne finds the world around her cold and unwelcoming and thus wants someone to "take her home"- the problem is, as she indicates, is the fact that there is no one reliable enough to do it. Thus, she opts to put her complete trust in a stranger in the hope that he might lead her to a better place (father's hide your daughters). This is the condition of our postmodern generation in a nutshell. It senses something is amiss out there, but tragically it sees no dependable alternative. Perhaps if this younger generation saw in us a more credible witness of virtue and friendship it might actually be more open to a message that promises to "take them home". The song Black Hole Sun outlines the despair that can often accompany us when we see no positive solutions; "Black hole sun won't you come and wash away the rain". But amidst the surrounding darkness of this song, there is also a glimmer of hope in it; "In my shoes, a walking sleep. And my youth I pray to keep. Heaven send Hell away, no one sings like you anymore." In another song written lyricist, Chris Cornell, he strikes a similar note of hope; "And on my death bed I will pray to the gods and the angels, like a pagan for anyone who will take me to Heaven- to a place I recall, I was there so long ago, the sky was bruised, the wine was bled and they led me on...In your house I long to be." Despite the gathering gloom that seems to permeate the postmodern mindset, there is also an opportunity here, one that was clearly hinted at in the above verses; a distant, but indelible, memory engendering truth and perfection, an ideal that a "fake plastic" world could never deliver. What I am speaking about her is not merely some false image of innocence like the kind generated by the hippie drug culture. Not at all. What I am referring to is an innocence at once more pure and authentic than anything the secular culture has to offer. Yet what is being suggested here is not an encounter with some vague childhood memory, but rather a remedy for the ache that haunts all of humanity, a yearning so powerful that it can induce a dreary rock star to forget himself if only for a moment and call out for someone... anyone to take them "home."