by Anonymous Logician, Copyright January 09, 2008, all rights reserved.
In my last post I reviewed The Sun and the Moon by The Bravery, and the philosophy nerd in me can't avoid digging a little deeper into the track "Believe." Now, of course we're talking about a song, not a philosophy textbook. A song can have multiple layers of meaning, and I don't want to be the person who squeezes complex theories out of basic entertainment. Still, Endicott voices powerful doubts about modern man and shows us how empty materialism really is. While he's no Jon Foreman, Endicott is a capable lyricist: "The faces all around me, they don't smile; they just crack, / Waiting for our ship to come, but our ship's not coming back. / We do our time like pennies in a jar–what are we saving for?"
In this blog I've mentioned the "apologetics of Ecclesiastes," meaning that Solomon's cynical musings are actually a defense of biblical faith. The Preacher's rough skepticism undermines major non-Christian forms of thought, emphasizing that everything is vanity–lighter than air. As Kansas put it, "Everything is dust in the wind." Solomon's sarcastic critique would embarrass many "positive," "inspirational" Christian authors.
"Believe" does much of the same thing. Though I don't know whether Endicott writes from a biblical perspective, his words find fault with modern materialism and reveal man's need for salvation. When Solomon begins his own quest for salvation, he goes first to false saviors. He becomes thoughtful and philosophical. "I sought wisdom and knowlege," he says. "I was the wisest man you ever saw. Then I realized one tragic fact: the wise man and the foolish man both die like dogs. Vanity of vanities; all is vanity." Next Solomon devoted himself to pleasure. He didn't withold anything from himself–food or wine or sex or luxury. In the end these too were meaningless. Nor did workaholism help. "I was king in Jerusalem," he says; "I threw myself into my work. It was all emptiness and chasing the wind."
Endicott, in "Believe," finds the same emptiness, though (given the band's name) he tackles the subject from the angle of fear. "There's a smell of stale fear that's reeking from our skins; / The drinking never stops because the drinks absolve our sins / We sit and grow our roots into the floor / But what are we waiting for?" Endicott, like Solomon, dismisses both the life of philosophy and the life of pleasure, the pull of tradition and the hope of newness, as vain. Solomon describes human endeavor done "under the sun," or without reference to God, as a meaningless cycle that never goes anywhere. "Behold," he says, "there is nothing new under the sun." Similarly, Endicott points out ironically that "Something's always coming; you can hear it in the ground / It swells into the air with the rising, rising sound, / And never comes, but shakes the boards and rattles all the doors; / What are we waiting for?"
The promised newness never arrives. In fact, all of our human activities "under the sun" are pointless because we have no end–no goal. Human beings save their time and money–but what are they saving for? Endicott realizes that a central human need is going unfulfilled. In an age of the material, we need souls; in an age of fear, we need courage. In an age of cynicism, we need faith. "So give me something to believe, / 'Cause I am living just to breathe / And I need something more to keep on breathing for." Endicott realizes that his only reason for breathing is to take another pointless breath; he lives merely to continue his own existence.
We really do need something more. And getting to that point is a major goal of Christian apologetics.
Posted in Music & Film Theology & Philosophy • 3 Comments • Permalink • 5286 views
by Anonymous Logician, Copyright January 06, 2008, all rights reserved.
Be sure to check out The Bravery, a modern rock/alt group that hails from New York but sounds deceptively British. They first hooked me with "Time Won't Let Me Go," a well-written single with catchy melodies from their second album, The Sun and the Moon. Their other tracks aren't far behind; the guitar work is tinged with the sounds of U2 and Switchfoot, two of my favorite bands, and frontman Sam Endicott's rhymes echo the same thoughtful veins as Bono and Jon Foreman.
The band's thoughtfulness sets it apart from most mainstream music. Endicott can't stand pop; in one interview he compares viewing typical MTV fare to listening to an air conditioner. The Bravery–maybe due in part to Endicott's degree in psychology–breaks out of these shallow musical molds and digs lyrically below life's surface. Even the band's name, says Endicott, has to do with young people standing tall when faced with today's fears of nothingness and meaninglessness.
Expect a progressive blend of guitar, drums, and electronics. The follow-up single "Believe" is every bit as good as "Time Won't Let Me Go," and "This Is Not the End" merges sad and thoughtful tones. The band isn't afraid to dig into a retro feel in "Every Word Is a Knife in My Ear" and "Tragedy Bound," while "The Ocean" and "Fistful of Sand" rely on captivating melodies.
Now, while the primary role of music is artistic, not philosophical, it's true that art always expresses a worldview, and we can benefit from Endicott here as well. Sam engages difficult questions far removed from most music, especially in tracks like "Believe" and "This Is Not the End." Endicott's lyrics venture into the spiritual; he rejects postmodern meaninglessness, crying out, "I am living just to breathe / And I need something more / To keep on breathing for." Endicott also questions pseudo-scientific materialism: "Tell me, what does it mean to exist? / I am not a scientist; I must believe in more than this, / And I will not accept that everything that's real / Is only what our eyes can see and our hands can feel."
As a rock fan fed up with much of popular music, I can welcome The Bravery's innovative sound. Maybe there's a musical (as well a spiritual) side to Endicott's claim that "Not even Earth can hold us; / Not even life controls us; / Not even the ground can keep us down."
[Note: The Sun and the Moon contains occasional strong language.]
-----Posted in Music & Film • 0 Comments • Permalink • 753 views
by Anonymous Logician, Copyright November 27, 2007, all rights reserved.
I reluctantly watched The Condemned after a friend loaned it to me. "You'll like it," I was told, since I have a propensity for action-thrillers. Still, as I looked at the larger-than-life image of Stone-Cold Steve Austin on the cover, I began to play Doubting Thomas toward my friend's wisdom. What could I enjoy about a film starring a WWE wrestler and centered around a reality show in which ten prisoners fight to the death?
Aside from the whole WWE angle, the premise bugged me. When the trailers started playing earlier this year, they fooled me. I thought America had really gone over the edge. I thought the brilliant minds of reality TV had quit with disgust the dull worlds of dancing, decorating, and fixing motorcycles, and had crafted a new series in which inmates from death row battle it out for a chance at freedom. I was a little relieved to find out it was just a movie. Still, I figured, who'd want to watch it?
The answer is that you will, if you enjoy action but like to ponder what makes human nature tick. While no doubt some folks will watch The Condemned just for the fight scenes (and there are plenty), the film forces us to ask surprisingly deep questions about our own hearts. The stunts, camera work, and acting were also ably handled. And while Steve Austin isn't exceptional, he pulls off a competent, even nuanced, job as the story's hero.
Here's the gist: millionaire producer Ian Breckel, fed up with network TV, streams his own brutal, uncensored (and illegal) reality show live over the Internet. Ten death-row inmates are bribed away from third-world prisons and brought to a deserted island to compete for the grand prize: freedom. Only one will win. Breckel's goal is 40 million viewers–the same as the Super Bowl.
But if that's all the movie was about, it would be as cruel as Breckel. What makes the film good is how the characters respond to the cruelty of their situation. Director Scott Wiper gives us three different perspectives: that of the prisoners, that of the producers, and that of the audience. None of the three groups is unanimous; the characters within each group clash with themselves and each other as they struggle to come to terms with the show.
The contestants, for example, range from a bloodthirsty Brit (who uses brutality and deception), to the Columbian husband and wife taken from the same prison (who only care about each other), to Jack Conrad, the mysterious American played by Austin. Wiper makes us question what makes a criminal a criminal, and forces us to conclude that not all of "the condemned" are alike and appearances are deceptive. The movie also raises the issue of mercy. Can human compassion extend even to our enemies?
Breckel's crew begins on the same page. In Breckel's mind, it's okay to watch real human beings kill each other for entertainment because all of these prisoners were condemned to die anyway; he's being a nice guy by giving one of them a chance to live. His crew buys the same rationale. But as the inherent cruelty of the show unfolds, both Breckel's girlfriend and his chief technician face pangs of conscience. The girlfriend in particular is adamant: the show's manipulation of real human lives is wrong and can't be justified by Breckel's logic. Both people are forced to take sides.
But the real kicker is the reaction of Breckel's audience. The world loves the show. "Man's inhumanity to man" drives the ratings for Breckel's show. Some object, but the ratings climb higher and higher. And while Wiper's vision is fictional, humanity's love of bloodshed is real. From the Roman arena to the ordeals of the Middle Ages to today's UFC matches, live violence against other human beings has been welcomed. The film's ominous message seems clear: Such a show as Breckel's would almost work in today's reality-crazed TV world. And if it ever does, the problem doesn't lie with Hollywood, Washington, or some vague "them" out there.
We're the problem.
Posted in Music & Film • 2 Comments • Permalink • 538 views
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