Crossing the Tiber

Halfway through my senior year of college, a freshman I was starting to get to know ended up moving in down the hall from me. Ladybug and I were both part of an a cappella group together, but other than that we moved in different circles and it was nice to have the opportunity to spend more time with her now that we were on the same floor. One evening with her I remember vividly is when another friend and I knocked on her door, with the intention of seeing if she wanted to join us for food and conversation at the student center. We heard some shuffling around, and some odd noises, but no one answered or came to the door. "Are you all right?" we asked. After some coaxing, she let us in, and even though there was only one small desk lamp on in the room, we could see the tears coming down her cheeks. Slowly the story came out: she had been on the phone with her mother. The church she grew up in, back home, had been going through a nasty theological and political civil war over the leadership of the church, both clerical and lay, and her parents were caught in the middle of the whole thing. "They're talking about leaving," she said quietly. "They feel so defeated and so confused. My dad was in a shouting match at a deacons' meeting with a man who was one of the first to welcome my parents when they moved to town. He and his family were one of the reasons they decided to worship there." Ladybug had been able to keep from crying with her mom on the phone, but once she hung up, had been overwhelmed. She'd been sitting alone in her room for the past half hour before we'd knocked. "Where will your family go?" my friend asked her. There wasn't a response. She didn't know, among the frustration and pain of everything, if there was an answer.

There are reasons why I'm a Christian, and there are further reasons why I'm a Catholic Christian. Something I learned from my own parents pretty early on is the appropriate placement of those words: which one is the noun and which is the adjective. In the past few days I've been very proud of my faith community and our leaders in Rome. The Catholic Church definitely takes its sweet time on these sorts of things, but that seems to me to be counterbalanced by often coming to the right decisions. Last week Pope Benedict XVI announced that Anglican and Episcopalian Christians now have an opportunity to be rejoin the Catholic Church while maintaining their ordinations (if they are already clergy, even the married ones) and maintaining most of their liturgy and liturgical structures, while the hierarchical structure will be akin to what is used by Rome already for military parishes, affiliated organizations and the Eastern Rite Church. This structure involves a diocesean structure with bishops taken from within the Anglican liturgical community, so both local and regional oversight will be part of the responsibility of those who decide to cross the Tiber, as the saying goes.

If you're curious about it, there's been a bunch of really useful articles written in print and online, in both the secular and Christian media. Several excellent short articles can be found at Damian Thompson's blog at the Daily Telegraph (the link is to his header page; scroll down to find all the links). Two good articles from the WSJ include one by Francis Rocca and one by Stacy Meichtry. The always precise and interesting John Allen Jr. writes for the National Catholic Reporter, and Deacon Keith Fournier reports for Catholic Online. If you want the news from someone at the press conference and to read the announcement text, check out Robert Moynihan at Inside the Vatican.

The divisions in the Anglican Communion are most evident in Africa and in the U.S., but also to a degree in England and the British Isles as well. (A quick update: Ross Douthat in the NYT is picking up on these facts and their implications quite well.) Amid all the news coverage, what I've been thinking about is what conversations, pro and con, are happening in Anglican and Episcopalian homes in this country and across the world. When I first heard about it, I thought of Ladybug and her family. After the night I described above, she and I had a number of conversations, about faith, and about church in both broad and specific ways. At the time, one of the possible options she and her family were considering was becoming Catholic. I lost touch with Ladybug after I graduated, but hope that wherever she is, and whatever her family decided to do 9 years ago, this development will give them comfort, and perhaps even an opportunity they didn't have then to retain distinctives of Anglican worship while reuniting with their Catholic friends. May God bless all the families who are affected by this news and give them guidance in the decisions to be made.

Can't Believe I Missed These

On my computer I have just under five thousand songs loaded into iTunes, and the majority of them are complete albums, because that’s usually the way I roll. Yet, among those albums there’s this one category called “PS” which stands for Postscript. These are various individual songs, most of them radio singles, I’ve run across over the years and liked without having gone further into the albums they came from. Currently there’s 557 of them in PS, divided into five “albums” based on the when I found them: high school, college, grad school, ’03-’05, and ’06-’09. And though over the past few months I’ve had an unexpected but good run of finding singles I can’t believe I missed the first time around when they were released, but am glad to have found now. And I thought I’d share those. In chronological order by release year, of course. Playlist at the end.

song title – artist name – year released

Running on Empty – Jackson Browne – 1977
If the guy who was the sports editor of my high school newspaper knew I didn’t have this song on my radar until now, I shudder to think about the width of the locker he would have convinced the football team to stuff me into. Jackson Browne and the Boss were his two music gods, and apparently this is one of Browne’s signature tunes. I was amazed to learn it was made the year I was born, because it still sounds completely relevant, musically, lyrically, and even in terms of production, over 30 years later.

Sleepwalking – Gerry Rafferty – 1982
If you know of Gerry Rafferty, what you probably know is “Baker Street,” a song from 1978 that made his reputation as a solo artist (he was previously in Stealer’s Wheel), which contains probably the best known saxophone hook in pop music. Sleepwalking is the title track from his 1982 album and is a fun little mix of heavily synthed drums, keys, and guitar, with a catchy chorus and the kind of production that screams “early 80s.” Though that era of pop music isn’t my favorite, I like the compactness and musical economy of this song.

Just Like Heaven – The Cure – 1987
This may be cheating, but I’ve actually known this song since college, but only because one of the a cappella groups at Bluebell used to sing this. The actual, original version is only something I stumbled across recently, and I think what I like best about it, other than the rich tone of the guitar, is the laconic feel to the vocals. The drums drive the tune, but the melody line seems in places to be floating. Which is a strange but effective construction for a love song.

Ball and Chain – Social Distortion – 1990
This is the song that gave me the idea for this post, because after I found this on a mix CD which went unclaimed in the library lost & found, I started wondering, do people know about this song? This is such a great song, people have to know about this, right? I’m sure there’s some out there who do, but it was brand new for me and I’m seriously considering looking into one of Social Distortion’s albums because of it. A classic early 90s guitar wash, great hooks, an oddly captivating vocalist, and strong lyrics.

She Talks to Angels – The Black Crowes – 1990
The melody and lyrics were what really grabbed me here, as well as a spare but effective construction. And the harmonic chords used as an extra coda for guitar hook are a great touch. And I was pretty surprised that I actually liked a Black Crowes song – I can remember hearing bits and pieces of one of their albums in the mid-90s and can remember being unimpressed.

Only Happy When It Rains – Garbage – 1995
Oh, Shirley Manson, you’re beautiful in so many ways. Back before there were hipsters or emo kids, when Generation X wanted a kindred spirit to channel our teenage angst and restlessness, there you were like a dark sneer in the sunshine. I’m not sure how I missed this song, as it was definitely a big single at the time, but it’s aged really well.

Sail Away – David Gray – 1999
So, calling this next track “switching gears” would be an understatement, but before this fall I’d only heard this song once, as the first-dance song a good friend from college chose for her wedding a few years back. And that’s still what I associate it with. I don’t know it’s that great a pop song, but it has its moments. The line “I put my heart in your hands” is cheesy but I think it works well in the context, and referencing “Que Sera, Sera” scores him points.

I Want You to Want Me – Letters to Cleo – 1999
The original version by Cheap Trick never did much for me, but frankly I think that’s because it just works better when a woman is singing lead, giving the song an edge and a playfulness the original just didn’t have. Amping the guitars helps too. This was another track on that poor lost CD from the library, and I’m told the song itself is from the 10 Things I Hate About You soundtrack, one of the few revamped Shakespeare movies I haven’t seen. I must confess to driving late at night and blasting this song in the car while singing/screaming the lyrics in my best Debbie Harry voice. And now that you’re rightly scandalized by imagining that, let’s move on…

Somebody’s Baby – Phantom Planet – 2001
…to the other cover song in the list, this one yet another Jackson Browne tune. Don’t worry; I’ve known the original for a long time, as it was written for the Fast Times at Ridgemont High soundtrack, and will forever be associated with Phoebe Cates for me. But the Phantom Planet cover version, made as a tongue-in-cheek reference to that film for the Not Another Teen Movie soundtrack, is really good in its own right. Even though it’s 2001 it has that great late 90s jangly guitar thing going, and some pop punk sensibilities, especially in the vocals, which shift the song and reinterpret it well.

After Hours – The Bluetones – 2002
So, in September I decided to take a second spin through the British TV series Spaced, which Sugarbutt had introduced me to a few years ago. Enjoying it once again, I started looking around online for other things related to the cast, and found that the director, Edgar Wright (who has gone to direct Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, who were also in Spaced), has a website he’s involved with on a daily basis. He had just posted some Youtube links to music videos he’s directed over the years, one of which was for this song. I like the musical build and release, and lyrically it reminds me both of rewatching Spaced and my own little barfly moments this summer with some friends. Disclaimer: those barfly moments did not include getting wasted, but did include libations with the bar staff after closing. Good times.

Brighter Than Sunshine – Aqualung – 2003
This is another song I remember being huge when it was on the radio, but I never really listened to it at the time. Maybe it needed a few years to grow on me. The lyrics aren’t anything special, but I like the music, specifically in the way it shifts tone a few times during the song. Incorporating some strings is also creative and easy to get wrong, but I think the way they’re used here sounds pretty good.

Wagon Wheel – Old Crow Medicine Show – 2004
OCMS was on my radar as a band for a while because when they were starting out they were given a real boost from Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings, two of my favorite folk artists. And this song, crafted (with permission) out of an uncompleted Bob Dylan chorus called “Rock Me, Mama,” became the signature tune off their debut album. But it didn’t really get into my head until this year’s Christian Fellowship retreat before school started with the student leaders, up at Bryant Pond. One of the senior guys loves OCMS and during lunch one afternoon picked up a stray guitar and began playing and singing the song. The nice thing was, a handful of the other students knew it and joined in. And it was so down-home and lyrically raw and fun, I just had to acquire the single for myself.

Bastardo – Charlotte Hatherley – 2004
This was another song I was introduced to through a music video by Edgar Wright. First off, Charlotte Hatherley has the best British name I’ve heard in a while. It’s wind-tossed and full of honey and aristocratic all at once. And the song, again with the catchy punk pop thing, strikes that perfect balance between whimsy and absurdity, truly a gift God gave only to the Brits.

Apologize (remix) – OneRepublic with Timbaland – 2007
The last of the trilogy of songs I culled from the lost & found mix CD, I like the pop grandeur of the song, which of course is a little overblown because it’s pop, but the voicings and beats Timbaland provide help ground it a little more for me. In other words, accenting the cheese with synthetic sounds but not overdoing it makes the whole thing sound more cohesive within itself, which is of course the key guideline for anything grandiose.

Remains – Maurissa Tancharoen & Jed Whedon – 2009
This one also may be a slight cheat, as I’m not sure I can include something released this year on a “can’t believe I missed it” list. But I think it’s mitigated by the fact that no one caught this song when it was released, because it never was. The writer/performers are staff writers on Joss Whedon’s current show, Dollhouse, and the show’s first season included an unreleased 13th episode called “Epitaph One” that had to be made for contractual reasons but was never aired. However, it was a bonus on the season 1 DVD box set, and the song, which plays over the closing scenes, was quietly added to the iTunes store. It’s just a really pretty song, and can stand on its own without the context of the show. It’s cinematic and nicely constructed, and even a little powerful at the end.

cant believe i missed these

Sun

The flesh and fur of the dog, the side of the dog,
heaving as the animal panted beside me on the grass,
was like the grass, a series of fine goldenrod stalks

the same consistency as the summer, end-of-summer,
the about-to-be-autumn grass left uncut by my father

tired of mowing these patches of lawn over and over,
and my hand there in the living scruff was warm
with the heat of myself and of an old mutt dog mixed

together with the sunshine on us both, hand and side,
mingled shades of yellow in the glow of more yellow,

and I felt for an instant in my hand, in the warmth
underneath and on top and in the middle of it how it
must be to never die and how quiet and natural that felt.

Bowl

I know spring is coming; my sinuses shift.
They clog after sundown; I put the humidifier on
when I go to bed, and schlep the device from
room to room the next day as I change, eat,
work at my desk. The shower is one huge humidifier;
I take long showers. On weekend spring mornings
growing up I would find my mother in the kitchen,
her head under a dishtowel and suspended over a fat
mixing bowl, steam curling past the towel edges
hanging lightly on her ears. She would wish me
good morning from under the towel, her face red
and her voice congested. I call her now during
the day randomly, since she retired. In spring
she taps the scrub of maples at the back of the yard
and brings in a few buckets of sap each day,
boiling them down through the afternoon,
a few tablespoons of syrup for ice cream,
dad’s ginger tea, or mixed with the salad dressing.
She tells me that now when she’s all stuffed up,
she puts her face over the sap as it boils
and knows her sinuses are clearing when she
begins to smell sweet maple faintly in the vapor.
I tell her I remember as a child seeing her
with her face over the bowl of steaming water.
She apologizes for passing on her bad sinuses.
I like that I can call and she’s there to talk to.

Weeping

Tonight a collapse, screaming,
ping of satellites around us somewhere
echoing the darkness and metallic
sounds from inside themselves.

The wet ground is soaked with those
who cannot speak, matted leaves, pinwheels
in their addled minds and brittle to touch,
to taste, to smell, flat.

Tonight a plunge, suddenly,
from layers of earth and air beyond
emptiness, into more emptiness,
the fall unending, the end of the world,

cascade of silence and water,
ancient and modern mariners alike
directionless. There’s the inhuman ping,
sounding again, every night.

Kairos

You, crucial instant in time, notch on an arrow,
words put for thoughts, outward expressiveness
of inner reality: good day and welcome.
Your presence shows further presence above.

Order smashed in coincidence or forethought
is order smashed, and not chaos, not some Titan
castrating his father as if harvesting crops.
Confusion about time or gods is just confusion.

Argument is sequacious, not aphoristic.
Except when you appear.

Come, metonymy; reign in thoughts and minds,
tend toward analogies spoken, degraded yet
honorific imitations: a scepter standing for the king.
Your presence shows further presence within.

Chaos smashed in coincidence or forethought
is order born, and not chaos, not some burrow,
some insatiable family grave for all under the sun.
Confusion, dissembling, may reorder in an instant.

World Enough and Time

She’s closed the door of her room today, which means
you’re being tested. Don’t call through the door,
don’t seek to enter by action, word, or thought,
the three intentions necessary for sin. Or sit outside
and wait; she hates that, tells you you’re a lost puppy.
The language you must use evokes intentionality

but doesn’t make a specific claim. The steps you take,
quietly down the hall, argue you have a right to touch
hands, lips, the bent arch of her back, Pleistocene joints.
Behind the wood and walls she pores over her anatomy,
her thick tongue clucking in its eerie patois, Baba Yaga
in her hut preparing to infuse the stew with bone marrow.

Her hair will further bleach in the sun, another reason
she’s inside. She’s inside today, and this is less a test
than a drill, your body prone to victory by dint of memory,
your body lurching, solemn through the paces once more,
she your sergeant, she your whore, she your princess
though you never asked her to be any of them.

You had only asked to touch hands, lips, the bent arch,
and that quiescence which was hers, which only she
could give, removed from all trappings of dress-up and
playing pretend. Truth be told, she’s your beloved drunk,
and the thousand deaths you die as you walk the hallway
separated from her by nothing but her own will

are nothing, nothing at all but a turn of the seasons,
sun behind clouds, rain behind clouds, banks of clouds.