Religion

Freethink Media’s Dan Hayes tweeted about a great NPR article about a lasting ambivalence inherent in modern music:

Six years ago, Glenn Schellenberg decided to do an experiment. …

“Happy-sounding songs typically tend to be in a major key, and they tend to be fast, [with] more beats per minute,” he says. “Conversely, sad-sounding songs tend to be slow in tempo, and they also tend to be in a minor key.” …

But while the grad student had no trouble finding fast, happy-sounding music in a major key when he looked at older musical eras — from the classical period up through the 1960s — it got a lot harder when it came to contemporary pop music.

There were plenty of fast-tempo songs, but almost all of the songs he found were in a minor key, and didn’t sound unambiguously happy; they were more emotionally complicated than that. …

The question, of course, is why? Why would consumers connect more to conflict and sadness now than they did in the ’60s and ’70s? Schellenberg says he doesn’t think it’s because people today are any sadder.

“I think that people like to think that they’re smart,” he says. “And unambiguously happy-sounding music has become, over time, to sound more like a cliche. If you think of children’s music like ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ or ‘The Wheels on the Bus,’ those are all fast and major, and so there’s a sense in which unambiguously happy-sounding songs sound childish to contemporary ears. I think there’s a sense in which something that sounds purely happy, in particular, has a connotation of naivete.”

Personally, that’s an understandable but unsatisfying explanation.

The pace and focus of life has radically changed. We’re more connected now than ever before. This fundamentally changes our instincts regarding self-awareness, and our self-centered conception of the world.

Today’s society is intensely self-aware. Therapy and mind-altering medications from adderall to xanax are all widely accepted, and we have creative outlets for all of our internal thoughts, down to the most inconsequential tweets and instragram photos.

At the same time, we’re intensely connected, through many of the same avenues. In real time you have access to most anything you could imagine, be it art or politics, a favorite comedian’s best joke, and what your co-workers are having for lunch.

It’s no wonder we approach emotional messages with a higher degree of sophistication than prior generations. We’re more aware of our own reactions to these inputs, while also being more aware of outsiders perception of our reactions. Emotionally complex inputs allow us some measure of psychic guardedness. It becomes more and more difficult for others to completely or definitively interpret our inner state. It gives our emotional state a protective ambiguity, which is part of what John Cusack discusses in High Fidelity.

In writing this, I thought about art that mean something to me, and what they’re trying to say. The stuff that I cherish most, like The Avett Brothers, Laura Marling, and Mumford & Sons, are all freighted with questions and ideas that are complex, and I think, important. Songs like The Once and Future Carpenter or Timshel ask questions about what it means to be good, to be happy, or fulfilled. I feel these ways only occasionally, and I frequently churn these questions over and over. So maybe it’s just basic solipsism; we listen to the music that makes us most comfortable in our heads?

I don’t think the comfort contention is necessarily true, because I know very smart people who regularly deal with heavy thoughts, but also enjoy emphatically vapid songs like Party Rock or Call Me, Maybe. It could be escapism, or a vehicle for aspirational emotional states, that is, the opposite of John Cusack’s question. I listen to the Black Keys to make me happy.


The Black Keys – Gold On The Ceiling (Official… by Warner-Music

Buy The Avett Brothers The Carpenter

Buy Mumford & Sons Sigh No More

Buy The Black Keys El Camino

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Pastor Ben Dueholm has a fascinating, and frustrating, review/critique/homage in Washington Monthly, discussing the career and ethics of Dan Savage’s weekly sex/relationship advice column Savage Love.

Savage Love is … well, it’s a lot of things. It’s part advice, part cultural/sexual criticism, part diatribe. The questions Dan fields are often so far from “normal” that they couldn’t see it with a telescope. And yet Dan consistently reaffirms a basic humanity and decency inherent in even the most “indecent” behaviors. It’s not Ann Landers, and it’s not for everybody. It’s an enthralling window into what it means to happy, normal, and good. As Dueholm writes:

While he built his following by talking without fear or euphemism about the technical aspects of intimate life, Savage has moved inexorably over the years toward focusing on the moral ones. In so doing, he has carved a unique place for himself in the culture’s discourse about sex. For years, there have been moralizing voices on the right standing athwart the rush of sexual freedoms yelling “Stop,” and there have been others whose policy is to remain nonjudgmental toward sex as a form of expression. Savage yields to no one in his sexual libertarianism, but he has not been content to relegate the ideas of right and wrong to cultural conservatives.

Those are big, never-ending questions, and Savage has been chipping away at answers for two decades. The pastor claims that Dan has “codified a remarkably systematic—and influential—set of ethics where traditional norms have fallen away. The question is, into what kind of world do his ethics lead us?” Unfortunately, if unsurprisingly, he gets plenty of basic facts, first principles, and analysis wrong, about sex, about Dan’s writing, and about libertarianism.

As a libertarian writer who enjoys sex and philosophy (MARKET NICHE!), I feel compelled to respond to these points. At length. Be warned. Read the article, so you’re also prepared.

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Most people are forced to read Catcher in the Rye during awkward adolescent periods of rebellion. People either love it or hate it. Either you think Holden, with his existential angst, is a whiny bitch, or you understand the kind of dark void that youth can see looming behind the grown-up world and responsibilities. As good as Catcher is, I think the two short novel collection Franny and Zooey is better. It’s a more adult, subtle, and obtuse look at the same dynamics of community, isolation, authenticity, conformity, and self-definition. In Franny’s words:

It’s everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so — I don’t know — not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless and — sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you’re conforming just as much only in a different way.

The two novels deal with the titular Franny’s mental breakdown. In her anguish, she’s reached out for a book called The Way of a Pilgrim, a Russian religious text that explores the idea of continuous prayer and spiritual illumination. She becomes fixated on something called

Now Comcast and Verizon Fios are showing a documentary that explores the Jesus prayer:

A major motion-picture about divine wisdom, timeless insight, silence and prayer, entitled, “Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer” will premiere for three-months on Comcast and Verizon Fios Video-On-Demand, beginning on December 15, 2010.

His All Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew offers a foreword and introduction to this story as it travels to the far reaches of the east, discovering the Jesus Prayer firsthand with Emmy award winning theologian and author, Dr. Norris J. Chumley, and renowned historian and priest, Very Rev. Dr. John A. McGuckin. They take a modern exodus to the ancient lands where Christianity and the Church began, witnessing the Jesus Prayer directly in monasteries and chapels, many places that are off-limits to the outside world.

If you liked Franny and Zooey even a little bit, it’s probably worth a watch. I plan on checking it out at some point. There’s also a teaser trailer on youtube.

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