timelessness?

It's baffling to me that I started this blog eight years ago as a way to balance being a leader in a grassroots activist LGBTQ organization in Chicago and not losing sight of myself or my passions, as my steady introduction to "being woke" left me confused, depressed, angry, and tired. Since then, it's been a chronicle of the times I almost didn't think I was going to make it- through heartbreak, depression, substance abuse, shame, and self-loathing- as well as a transformation of, dare I say, maturation, of my ideals, self-systems, and lazy analysis of my favorite songs. In this way, music has literally saved my life.

While I'm fortunate nowadays to be working a job that not only requires the skills I learned and ignored in Keyboard Harmony II in undergrad (yikes!), but challenges me to directly transfer my musical knowledge and humanity to another person every time I'm in a classroom, I realize that life never stopped being about balance. That we are complex humans with many masks, but I mean, in words of Future, fuck it. Mask off. My writing has gotten less metaphorical and romantic and more succinct and to the point- I think it's because I know the answers to the questions I've posed in musical form for many, many years- and for the first time probably ever, I'm confident, not only in my understanding, but my ability to succeed in the goals I set for myself.

But it didn't come without sacrifice. I don't do the things I used to do that made me happy, though perhaps that happiness was not real in the first place. It was a band-aid covering up these deep wounds I didn't even know were there because I was too scared to look at my body. At my own self. I did not know what brave meant. Despite the stigmas of oversharing, the need for validation, and the temporary here-today-gone-in-a-few-minutes design of social media, the act of opening up not only your thoughts, but your heart, your true, true love, your passion, your essence, and part of your soul for other people to see and critique, is part of the chemical... arrangement... of what makes an artist at large.

Never did I think that in August, 2017, I would be finding ways to fight neo-Nazis of the so-called "alt-right" with my gifts and my influence. But hey, this is the nature of how this blog originated: from conflict. We don't stop creating, we don't stop writing, we don't stop sharing, and we don't stop being examples of the real struggle- the inner, the outer, the micro, the macro- until the oppression stops.

So. Shall we continue?

****

Some music ages well; it's the kind that addresses issues concerning the intricacies of human psyche that are rooted in what is widely considered basic truth, correct? Love, heartache, struggle, success, loss, friendship, relationships, body movements, etc. Perhaps its function is educational: to teach younger generations the 26 letters of the alphabet, or how to tie their shoes, or a method of improving language skills so prevalent in the early years of human development and then locked up in the back of your brain with easy access. Based on your unique experiences, some songs may be memorable, but not relatable to your life (I don't think I would necessarily be surfin' like Californ-i-a if I had an ocean across the USA, no matter how much I respect Brian Wilson). Some may bring nostalgia and take you back to those angsty teenage dark moments in the past, but don't hold the same weight in your present (Max Bemis, you are no longer my hero). But in my opinion, the best songs are the ones that come back to you when you least expect them and somehow still apply to the reality of life outside of yourself.

Last week I tweeted that Beggars is still a solid album in 2017, in which my long-time mixtape-making buddy Rob agreed after giving it another listen for the first time in a number of years. With songs that address the madness of the world, human greed, suffering, the power of love, the redemption in faith, and lyrics that bring to light: "All you great men of power, you who boast of your feats / politicians and entrepreneurs / can you safeguard your breath in the night while you sleep / keep your heart beating steady and sure?" It's hard to listen to the title track and NOT think of the demise of the United States after Trump, though it was released in 2009. Perhaps theology and philosophy go a longer way than we think. This song cycle flows so smoothly, "thematically cohesive," in Rob's words, and is timeless because of, well, the times. Because of conflict. Because in a way, good music is good when its creators critique the world at large while conveying the harsh reality that if shit doesn't change, we're all fucked.

Someone once told me that artists are always talking to each other. It may have been my 12th grade AP English teacher, Brother Tom. Yeah, I went to Catholic school. It was fucking awful. Coincidentally, A Crow Left of the Murder and all its proverbial plays on words came out the last semester of my senior year of high school. It was the soundtrack of my short walk into the town square today to get sushi. Immediately, a sharp wind of nostalgia swept through me- Incubus was that band I had posted on my bedroom walls before moving out of the suburbs, and though I didn't follow them much after this album, I still know every lyric, vocal nuance, jazzy guitar solo, drum break. In a way, I guess the timelessness of "Talk Shows on Mute" is twofold: one, originating from the ideas of Orwell and Philip K Dick, so literally... channelled... in the animal farm that is this music video; the other, in Brandon Boyd's exposition of how the entertainment industry is ruining society and its inability to decipher reality from reality television. And as Number 45 continues this long-ass four-year episode of the Apprentice, the prophecies layered in this song have followed the exact course of events edging us toward the flame.

Why have I chosen bands with cis-white front men to illustrate the timelessness of the systemic demise of humanity? Because frankly, it has to be them who are speaking up now. Now. Today. Tomorrow. In this CIVIL WAR. It has to be those who live on the upper shelves of social construct to stand up and battle the psychopathic, entitled lunatics who have no sense of empathy beyond themselves. De-colonizing the standard is part of it, yes, but come on son, there are straight up racist rallies being supported by the government disguised as freedom of speech protests, and truth be told, it is not the minorities who are justifying their cause. I can sit here and make you a playlist of one-hundred songs that will spread the message of beauty in diversity; it will not stop white supremacists from marching through educational establishments holding fuckin tiki torches and driving cars into crowds of people with the intention of killing them. I can alter the goals of my lesson plans to include more songs of resistance; I can hope to empower and guide my students to owning their creativity; I can continue to tweet throwback alternative rock songs that have aged well throughout the years... but timelessness is not the goal. I don't want to be living in a life where "we are beggars all." I don't want human actualization to be "electric sheep dreaming up our fate." Let's write our own lyrics, accented with accents. Let's preserve integrity by composing melodies of social and human justice won. Let's be models of fierce warriors, citizens of the world, so our future generations can listen to Thrice and Incubus and think, "damn, that was a fucked up era in history."  It's time to stop swinging in the hammocks of oppression misconstrued as "how things are" and stand up.

Let's fight for real freedom.

(one-hundred track mixtape to follow)