For more than two centuries, the United States has, to one degree or another, embraced the concept of religious tolerance. It is, insofar as most people are concerned, one of the core tenets of our nation: all faiths are accepted here, and our society offers a framework within which all religions may interact in friendship and tolerance.
The dichotomy of tolerance, though, is this: should intolerant views be tolerated because they are a part of one's religion?
This is a dichotomy that is always bubbling beneath the surface, but it seems to be coming ever-closer to the surface with each passing week. It seems more and more evident that the most outspoken members of Islamic faith not only reject this concept of tolerance, but they violently (in every sense of the word) oppose it. And by not speaking out against this sort of extremism, more moderate Muslims are allowing their faith to be expropriated and reshaped into a religion whose most fundamental elements create conflict between the Muslim faith and other religions... and even more problematical, the Muslim faith is so inherent in the Muslim idea of government and culture for these extremists that the conflict is both religious and cultural.
Historically, cultural groups have come to the United States to enjoy our way of life without havingv to sacrifice all elements of their prior culture. However, the militant Muslim movement not only actively rejects the core aspects of our culture, it wants to change those aspects so that they mirror Islamic fundamentalism. If Baptist or Catholic fundamentalists acted with such intolerance, they would be excoriated and vilified; for some reason, though, this same behavior is tolerated from Muslims, and those who speak out against it are considered intolerant because... well, because they won't tolerate intolerance!
We are on a path towards a cultural conflict the likes of which we have never seen, simply because we have never seen another group of people attempt to launch what is, at its heart, a cultural invasion of the United States. It's a cultural invasion because in that its core purpose is to replace the established US culture with elements of shariah law, little by little; and it succeeds at certain levels because our culture is so afraid of the hobgoblin of intolerance that we feel obligated to accept it.
We're not.
I am not a religious person. However, I recognize the contributions that various religions have made to US culture, and I am amazed at the fact that Christian and Buddhist and Jewish and Bahai and Hindu and dozens upon dozens of other faiths have historically found common ground for peaceful co-existence here. Now an increasingly strident faction of Islam is allowing the entire faith to be redefined by their extremist views, and both religious and non-religious individuals are going to have to determine what lines must be drawn in order to preserve American culture.
And on the front line must be Muslims who reject intolerance. For if they aren't, then they're tacitly accepting this sort of intolerance and allowing it to become a central aspect of their faith. For many years, Dixie and the Confederate flag and other aspects of Southern culture and heritage were accepted as a part of cultural pride in this part of the country; however, those elements were expropriated by racially bigoted extremists who turned them into symbols of intolerance and hatred. Contemporary Islam is reaching the same turning point; how the Muslim majority stands up against it will determine the faith's future in our culture, and its hopes of dealing peacefully with other religions.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
Tomorrow's Just Your Future Yesterday
For the most part, late night talk shows have gone degenerated to garbage. David Letterman, who used to be absolutely brilliant, barely phones it in night after night; it's obvious that he's as bored as we are. Jay Leno has sacrificed comedy for biased political commentary and tedious skit humor. Conan O'Brien has replaced cleverness with schtick. And I know there are some other late-night mannequins on whose shows I've watched from time to time, but they're so cookie-cutter monotonous I don't even know the hosts' names.
I'd give up on late night television entirely if it weren't for Craig Ferguson. Clever, fresh, self-effacing, unpredictable, charming... he possesses many of the best qualities of Johnny Carson, delivered with a Scottish accent. His opening monologue is always good for numerous laughs, and his interviews are both interesting and informative. If you've never tried his show, you should watch it (or, if you don't feel like staying up until 12:37 a.m., when the show begins, you can Tivo it). If he doesn't hook you after two or three episodes, he's not going to hook you at all--his shows are so rock-solid and so steadily entertaining that by three nights you really feel like you know him.
If you miss late-night television's glory days, when television was actually worth staying up for, you need some Craig Ferguson in your viewing diet...
I'd give up on late night television entirely if it weren't for Craig Ferguson. Clever, fresh, self-effacing, unpredictable, charming... he possesses many of the best qualities of Johnny Carson, delivered with a Scottish accent. His opening monologue is always good for numerous laughs, and his interviews are both interesting and informative. If you've never tried his show, you should watch it (or, if you don't feel like staying up until 12:37 a.m., when the show begins, you can Tivo it). If he doesn't hook you after two or three episodes, he's not going to hook you at all--his shows are so rock-solid and so steadily entertaining that by three nights you really feel like you know him.
If you miss late-night television's glory days, when television was actually worth staying up for, you need some Craig Ferguson in your viewing diet...
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Art for Art's Sake
"Do you know much about Arthur?" Whitney asked yesterday afternoon. "A little," I replied, and we then chatted about Arthurian legends for about fifteen minutes. After a while, Whitney said, "You know a lot about Arthurian legend."
I guess I do. Amy deduced that I had taught Arthurian legend at one point, which is true--but my knowledge and interest goes far beyond what I taught. I found Arthurian legend, with its blend of possible history and impossible reality, to be absolutely enthralling; from the time I first saw The Sword in the Stone and read T.H. White in elementary school, I knew this was something deserving of further attention.
While it's the 19th and 20th century interpretations of the legend that appeal to me the most (particularly Tennyson, White, and Stewart), I enjoy Arthurian legendry from all eras. There's a certain brutal integrity to Malory, an inherent nobility in Chretien de Troyes that still has a literary allure.
I think Whitney is just beginning her exploration of Arthuriana. She has some great reading ahead of her...
I guess I do. Amy deduced that I had taught Arthurian legend at one point, which is true--but my knowledge and interest goes far beyond what I taught. I found Arthurian legend, with its blend of possible history and impossible reality, to be absolutely enthralling; from the time I first saw The Sword in the Stone and read T.H. White in elementary school, I knew this was something deserving of further attention.
While it's the 19th and 20th century interpretations of the legend that appeal to me the most (particularly Tennyson, White, and Stewart), I enjoy Arthurian legendry from all eras. There's a certain brutal integrity to Malory, an inherent nobility in Chretien de Troyes that still has a literary allure.
I think Whitney is just beginning her exploration of Arthuriana. She has some great reading ahead of her...
Look up the Numbers
I never expected to enjoy Numbers, but the show has grown on me in the past few months. If you've missed the premise of this one, the series focuses on an FBI agent and his brother, a math genius who is a professor... and of course, a consultant to his brother. In each episode, he use mathematical principles to lead to a solution.
Just as CSI will stretch forensic science to make its dramatic point, Numbers sometimes stretches mathematics for dramatic effect. However, even the most far-fetched episodes have enough mathematical foundation to make them effective and fascinating.
The cast is quirky but effective; for the most part, they avoid the "math-nerd" stereotype, as well as the "genius-with-no-common-sense" cliche. If you're looking for an entertaining crime drama with a different angle and less gore than the new norm, Numbers is worth a look.
Just as CSI will stretch forensic science to make its dramatic point, Numbers sometimes stretches mathematics for dramatic effect. However, even the most far-fetched episodes have enough mathematical foundation to make them effective and fascinating.
The cast is quirky but effective; for the most part, they avoid the "math-nerd" stereotype, as well as the "genius-with-no-common-sense" cliche. If you're looking for an entertaining crime drama with a different angle and less gore than the new norm, Numbers is worth a look.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Lonely Days, Dreary Knights
DC's recently-released Battle for Bludhaven #1 featured the return of the Atomic Knights. Or, to be more precise, the resurrection of the name "Atomic Knights" for a lackluster group of armored characters with nuclear abilities, I presume. But for those of us who know, these are not the Atomic Knights.
The real Atomic Knights appeared in DC's sf title Strange Adventures between 1960 and late 1963 (their last issue was dated January '64, but it would have appeared in November of the previous year, 'cuz that's the way comics dating works). The characters were noble warriors in a post-apocalyptic future world; their armor protected them from the hazards of their post-nuclear-war environment. They strove to bring order and justice to a future in which the nuclear war had thrust society backwards technologically; later on in their exploits, they rode about on oversized dalmations (the dogs were, of course, mutated by the holocaust) and basically fought to make the quasi-feadal world right.
John Broome was the mastermind behind the Knights, while Murphy Anderson supplied the visuals. The story set in the then-distant future of the 1980s, was both fascinating and thought-provoking in a distinctive way. This was a grim world, a post-nuclear-war wasteland--but even here, the indomitable human spirit rose above the devastation. And the stories had a marvelous adventure edge, blending chivalrous drama and science fiction in a fresh way.
The Knights never did graduate to their own series; as the superhero era began in earnest in the mid-1960s, the Atomic Knights fell by the wayside.
And ever since then, people who have resurrected the concept have done so with the intention of throwing away everything that made the series distinctive. The post-apocalyptic angle? A dream, according to one reboot of the series. And now, we have characters who have nothing in common with the original concept.
I've yet to figure out why writers will take a memorable concept, strip away everything distinctive, and then stick the name on a weak concept with no links to the original. But that's what's happened here... and the sad thing is, it prevents us from seeing a legitimate Atomic Knights relaunch for several more years, until the bad taste of this launch is forgotten.
The real Atomic Knights appeared in DC's sf title Strange Adventures between 1960 and late 1963 (their last issue was dated January '64, but it would have appeared in November of the previous year, 'cuz that's the way comics dating works). The characters were noble warriors in a post-apocalyptic future world; their armor protected them from the hazards of their post-nuclear-war environment. They strove to bring order and justice to a future in which the nuclear war had thrust society backwards technologically; later on in their exploits, they rode about on oversized dalmations (the dogs were, of course, mutated by the holocaust) and basically fought to make the quasi-feadal world right.
John Broome was the mastermind behind the Knights, while Murphy Anderson supplied the visuals. The story set in the then-distant future of the 1980s, was both fascinating and thought-provoking in a distinctive way. This was a grim world, a post-nuclear-war wasteland--but even here, the indomitable human spirit rose above the devastation. And the stories had a marvelous adventure edge, blending chivalrous drama and science fiction in a fresh way.
The Knights never did graduate to their own series; as the superhero era began in earnest in the mid-1960s, the Atomic Knights fell by the wayside.
And ever since then, people who have resurrected the concept have done so with the intention of throwing away everything that made the series distinctive. The post-apocalyptic angle? A dream, according to one reboot of the series. And now, we have characters who have nothing in common with the original concept.
I've yet to figure out why writers will take a memorable concept, strip away everything distinctive, and then stick the name on a weak concept with no links to the original. But that's what's happened here... and the sad thing is, it prevents us from seeing a legitimate Atomic Knights relaunch for several more years, until the bad taste of this launch is forgotten.
Monday, April 17, 2006
God Is a Concept...
It's appropriate that my thoughts should turn to religion; it is, after all, Easter.
I ran across a reference today to Rousseau and Locke and their belief that religion exists to encourage ethical behavior in the masses; it was Rousseau, I believe, who went even further and said that religion exists as a motivation for ethical behavior because without the fear of punishment in the afterlife, the average person would not see any reason to follow the rules of ethical conduct.
Marx dismissed religion as the opiate of the masses, but I have come to think see Marx as more and more off the mark in his analysis. Religion, regardless of one's beliefs, is a motivator for ethical conduct, which in turns allows society to operate in a civilized manner.
I am not a religious person, although I do hold spiritual beliefs (it's complicated, and not something I'll go into right now). However, even though I have been non-religious since I was about twelve years old, I recognize the value that religion brings to modern society, and I have a tremendous respect for most religions. As the basis for an ethos, I can accept many aspects of religion, whether I believe in the mythic and/or metaphysical aspects of the religion or not.
I think, though, that the existence of religion and religious beliefs is crucial in the formation of society. In many ways, I accept Rousseau's point; religion gives many people a powerful reason to do the right thing. And for that, even the most non-religious should be appreciative of the existence of religion...
I ran across a reference today to Rousseau and Locke and their belief that religion exists to encourage ethical behavior in the masses; it was Rousseau, I believe, who went even further and said that religion exists as a motivation for ethical behavior because without the fear of punishment in the afterlife, the average person would not see any reason to follow the rules of ethical conduct.
Marx dismissed religion as the opiate of the masses, but I have come to think see Marx as more and more off the mark in his analysis. Religion, regardless of one's beliefs, is a motivator for ethical conduct, which in turns allows society to operate in a civilized manner.
I am not a religious person, although I do hold spiritual beliefs (it's complicated, and not something I'll go into right now). However, even though I have been non-religious since I was about twelve years old, I recognize the value that religion brings to modern society, and I have a tremendous respect for most religions. As the basis for an ethos, I can accept many aspects of religion, whether I believe in the mythic and/or metaphysical aspects of the religion or not.
I think, though, that the existence of religion and religious beliefs is crucial in the formation of society. In many ways, I accept Rousseau's point; religion gives many people a powerful reason to do the right thing. And for that, even the most non-religious should be appreciative of the existence of religion...
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
First Impressions
Have you ever been so content with an impression that you actually don't want to know more, lest your impression prove untrue?
This evening, while picking up a CD at Target, I saw a woman with her young daughter. She had a slightly round face--not fat, but not fashionably thin by any means--and thick, dark, wavy hair. Her daughter was energetic, enthusiastic, and determined, holding on to her mother's hand and pulling her in the direction of something... I never did see what. Some parents, in a situation like this, look impatient, or distracted, or even slightly aggravated. This mother, however--it's rare to see a face so filled with satisfaction and empathy and love and happiness combined. At that moment, her daughter's childlike vitality was her whole existence; in that youthful glee, she appeared to have found everything that she wanted in her life as well. It was an almost beatific expression, one that an artist might continually endeavor to convey. And it was authentic; I don't think she was aware that anyone saw her face at that moment.
It was a beautiful face. This was not beauty in a superficial sense; most would have dismissed her full, rather unadorned face as plain. No, this was a beauty born of the moment, a beauty was so encompassing that I didn't want to know anything more. I didn't want to see what the child wanted. I didn't want to hear the mother's voice. There was a chance that anything else I saw would have proven that transcendent moment to be illusory, and I didn't want to risk it.
This evening, while picking up a CD at Target, I saw a woman with her young daughter. She had a slightly round face--not fat, but not fashionably thin by any means--and thick, dark, wavy hair. Her daughter was energetic, enthusiastic, and determined, holding on to her mother's hand and pulling her in the direction of something... I never did see what. Some parents, in a situation like this, look impatient, or distracted, or even slightly aggravated. This mother, however--it's rare to see a face so filled with satisfaction and empathy and love and happiness combined. At that moment, her daughter's childlike vitality was her whole existence; in that youthful glee, she appeared to have found everything that she wanted in her life as well. It was an almost beatific expression, one that an artist might continually endeavor to convey. And it was authentic; I don't think she was aware that anyone saw her face at that moment.
It was a beautiful face. This was not beauty in a superficial sense; most would have dismissed her full, rather unadorned face as plain. No, this was a beauty born of the moment, a beauty was so encompassing that I didn't want to know anything more. I didn't want to see what the child wanted. I didn't want to hear the mother's voice. There was a chance that anything else I saw would have proven that transcendent moment to be illusory, and I didn't want to risk it.
An Eventful Year in Comics
The transition from isolated comic book series to "big events" began back in 2004, although I don't think any of us realized how significant the transition would be. As it turns out, this transition was the second major transition of the 21st century, following up on the shift in emphasis from artist to writer that took hold in earnest in 2000-2001.
Right now, the industry is driven by events. Not gimmicks, mind you, but legitimate comic book events that are story driven, continuity focused, and line affective. The story has to be good; if it's not a good story with a strong hook, the event is DOA. Image made an earnest effort to link their teen superheroes in The Pact, but an unfocused story made it difficult for the series to be taken seriously by fans of any of the characters involved.
Readers are also looking for continuity links; they want to know that what happens in the event story will have ramifications in other books featuring those same characters. This is why Identity Crisis succeeded where House of M didn't, for the most part. Identity Crisis shook up the entire DC Universe, and its affect led directly into the next even larger event. House of M affected no one outside of a few mutants, and the most significant mutant effects were either negated ("I just thought I lost my powers," Iceman said unconvincingly) or mitigated by later happenings (Quicksilver doesn't run fast any longer, but his new powers give him much the same net outcome). Identity Crisis will stand as a turning point; House of M will remain largely a dead end.
A "line affective" story is the measuring stick that readers use to determine the significance of an event. How much is the universe shaken up? How many characters are changed? How significant are the changes? Infinite Crisis has changed everything in the DC Universe; it is the ultimate "line affective" story. Spider-Man: The Other changed nothing except the superficial; a character got sick, he got better... he died, he was reborn. Ultimately, same old same old... except he has a new costume for now. Years ago, DC was criticized for having a stagnant universe while Marvel's universe was praised as dynamic and changing; in more recent years, though, it's DC's universe that has been truly dynamic, while Marvel's universe has struggled to present the illusion of change in big events that ultimately take us full circle back to where we began.
Will Civil War be the series that changes that? I hope so. DC has reached a crescendo with Infinite Crisis; even though I expect the interest to continue into 52's weekly storyline, it won't have the same line affective impact because we already know how it turns out. We'll be enjoying the journey, not wondering where it's going to take us. So ultimately, the comics market needs Civil War to be the Marvel event that delivers. Readers need that element of uncertainty, I think, to keep them coming back. And from what editor Tom Brevoort and writer Mark Millar have said in interviews, they're aware of that, and they seem to have taken plenty of notes over the past year as DC hit all their marks.
DC is in an interesting place. They've deconstructed and reconstructed their continuity; they've taken their line to a dark, ominous place, and then they've brought it back from that brink. Now they've shaken up everything, and they're gambling that, once we know where everything is going, we can't look away as we see how it got there. But there's also a downside to the gamble: their year-long event exists without their three "big guns," since neither Superman, Batman, nor Wonder Woman will play a role. Having seen the deftness with which they launched their One Year Later titles, I'm confident that they can make 52 a success. But most of all, I admire them for the gamble that they're taking; they're showing a boldness rarely seen in comics.
Marvel is also in an interesting place. They all but dismantled continuity in the first five years of this century; characters were so dissimilar from one title to another that it seemed difficult to believe that anyone in charge at Marvel was even reading the titles, much less guiding them. Early this year, it seemed like they were throwing anything against the wall to see what would stick; Annihilation and Planet Hulk, two event stories, launched at the same time, and neither seems to meet any of the three crucial requirements for event success. But Civil War... it's already starting to resonate with fans, even though its full impact will be spread over more than six dozen comics. In some ways, it seems almost too big... but I think the gamble may pay off. If the first month delivers enough significant story development to convince readers that this time the event really matters, then I think that Civil War will do for Marvel what the Crisis storylines have done for DC.
And if it does, I hope that continuity-conscious editors like Tom Brevoort have enough clout to see it through to the next level, rebuilding the almost-lost continuity that was once the company's stock in trade. I may be a DC fan first (hey, it's what I grew up with before there was a Marvel superhero line!), but I was also a Marvel completist who was there for FF #1 back in 1961, so I have a history with the company. And as a retailer, reader, journalist, and observer of comics, I see benefits for the whole industry if both of the Big Two are really on their game.
Right now, the industry is driven by events. Not gimmicks, mind you, but legitimate comic book events that are story driven, continuity focused, and line affective. The story has to be good; if it's not a good story with a strong hook, the event is DOA. Image made an earnest effort to link their teen superheroes in The Pact, but an unfocused story made it difficult for the series to be taken seriously by fans of any of the characters involved.
Readers are also looking for continuity links; they want to know that what happens in the event story will have ramifications in other books featuring those same characters. This is why Identity Crisis succeeded where House of M didn't, for the most part. Identity Crisis shook up the entire DC Universe, and its affect led directly into the next even larger event. House of M affected no one outside of a few mutants, and the most significant mutant effects were either negated ("I just thought I lost my powers," Iceman said unconvincingly) or mitigated by later happenings (Quicksilver doesn't run fast any longer, but his new powers give him much the same net outcome). Identity Crisis will stand as a turning point; House of M will remain largely a dead end.
A "line affective" story is the measuring stick that readers use to determine the significance of an event. How much is the universe shaken up? How many characters are changed? How significant are the changes? Infinite Crisis has changed everything in the DC Universe; it is the ultimate "line affective" story. Spider-Man: The Other changed nothing except the superficial; a character got sick, he got better... he died, he was reborn. Ultimately, same old same old... except he has a new costume for now. Years ago, DC was criticized for having a stagnant universe while Marvel's universe was praised as dynamic and changing; in more recent years, though, it's DC's universe that has been truly dynamic, while Marvel's universe has struggled to present the illusion of change in big events that ultimately take us full circle back to where we began.
Will Civil War be the series that changes that? I hope so. DC has reached a crescendo with Infinite Crisis; even though I expect the interest to continue into 52's weekly storyline, it won't have the same line affective impact because we already know how it turns out. We'll be enjoying the journey, not wondering where it's going to take us. So ultimately, the comics market needs Civil War to be the Marvel event that delivers. Readers need that element of uncertainty, I think, to keep them coming back. And from what editor Tom Brevoort and writer Mark Millar have said in interviews, they're aware of that, and they seem to have taken plenty of notes over the past year as DC hit all their marks.
DC is in an interesting place. They've deconstructed and reconstructed their continuity; they've taken their line to a dark, ominous place, and then they've brought it back from that brink. Now they've shaken up everything, and they're gambling that, once we know where everything is going, we can't look away as we see how it got there. But there's also a downside to the gamble: their year-long event exists without their three "big guns," since neither Superman, Batman, nor Wonder Woman will play a role. Having seen the deftness with which they launched their One Year Later titles, I'm confident that they can make 52 a success. But most of all, I admire them for the gamble that they're taking; they're showing a boldness rarely seen in comics.
Marvel is also in an interesting place. They all but dismantled continuity in the first five years of this century; characters were so dissimilar from one title to another that it seemed difficult to believe that anyone in charge at Marvel was even reading the titles, much less guiding them. Early this year, it seemed like they were throwing anything against the wall to see what would stick; Annihilation and Planet Hulk, two event stories, launched at the same time, and neither seems to meet any of the three crucial requirements for event success. But Civil War... it's already starting to resonate with fans, even though its full impact will be spread over more than six dozen comics. In some ways, it seems almost too big... but I think the gamble may pay off. If the first month delivers enough significant story development to convince readers that this time the event really matters, then I think that Civil War will do for Marvel what the Crisis storylines have done for DC.
And if it does, I hope that continuity-conscious editors like Tom Brevoort have enough clout to see it through to the next level, rebuilding the almost-lost continuity that was once the company's stock in trade. I may be a DC fan first (hey, it's what I grew up with before there was a Marvel superhero line!), but I was also a Marvel completist who was there for FF #1 back in 1961, so I have a history with the company. And as a retailer, reader, journalist, and observer of comics, I see benefits for the whole industry if both of the Big Two are really on their game.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Guilty Pleasures (Music) #2
The late 60s and early 70s gave us numerous underrated albums, but none was more underrated than Badfinger's Magic Christian Music. I must have listened to this album a hundred times in the summer of 1970; it was one of my half-dozen favorite albums at the time, and has only grown more appealing with the passage of time.Badfinger's roster included Pete Ham, Mike Gibbins, Joey Molland, and Tom Evans (Ron Griffiths had been a part of the group in their earlier days, but left prior to the release of this, their first album). Their specialty was Beatles-esque harmonies and strong guitar-centered power pop tunes; their big hit from this album, "Come and Get It," sounded particularly Beatles-esque because it was written by Paul McCartney. If you get a chance to listen to McCartney's demo of this song, you'll see that Badfinger followed McCartney's lead very closely, making minimal changes while adding their own soaring harmonies. If this were the only good song off the album, it would be as forgettable as Jackie Lomax's work on Apple Records. However, the entire album is eminently listenable.
My personal fave is "Carry On ('Til Tomorrow)," a wistful and melancholy retrospective. It's a beautiful cut built on acoustic guitar and sensitive harmonies, punctuated by a sharp guitar solo. Other gems on the album include the fast-paced "Rock of Ages," the beautiful ballad "Walk Out In the Rain," the quirky faux period-piece "Knocking Down Our Home," and the punchy "Crimson Ship." The truth, though, is that there's not a bad song on the original album.
That doesn't mean that there's not a bad song on the CD, however. They'd added a few bonus tracks of weaker material, including "Arthur," "Give It a Try," and "Storm in a Teacup," none of which match the quality of the core album's tracks. The completist in me is glad to get the extra tracks; however, their presence brings the CD to a very weak close, and it's recommended that you skip them until you're familiar with Badfinger's better work.
The star of the group was Pete Ham, a talented singer/songwriter/guitarist whose sound blended the best of Lennon and McCartney. Alas, he committed suicide in the mid-70s, despondent over legal issues that kept the group from releasing new material. It's a shame; he's a power-pop genius, and I can't help but wonder what he might have done in the 1980s and the 1990s.
However, this isn't a one-man group. Molland, Gibbins, & Evans each bring a distinctive sound to the group, taking a turn at lead vocals as well as harmonies. Again, the Beatles comparisons come through; like the Beatles, Badfinger had its two starring members—Ham and Molland—and its two lesser luminaries. Nevertheless, all four display amazing talents.
If you like power-pop, you can't do better than this album.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
In My Time of Dying....
A friend asked me a few minutes ago if I had any memories of a profound experience from those dead moments. The truth is--no, I don't. I cannot recall any specifics of a near-death experience, as much as I'd like to be able to. What I can say, though, is that the experience totally removed from me any fear of death. That doesn't mean that I'm eager to die, or that I'm not reluctant to experience a painful demise; however, the idea of being dead no longer disturbs me. My only worry, I think, is my fear of dying without having done the things I'd like to do for those whom I love; any trepidations I have about dying revolve around leaving my loved ones unprepared for their own lives to continue as comfortably as possible.
That's probably true for many of us, actually; it's how our deaths affect those who go on living that concern us as much as the art of dying.
But no stories from me about bright lights, out-of-body experiences, etc. I do recall a bright light, but that was the ceiling light in the ambulance, which was shining in my eyes quite intently when the paramedics finally brought me back (they said that my eyes had dilated quite a bit during those minutes, which is why a routine vehicle ceiling light seemed so bright). Nothing mystical or profound there... but the experience was strangely comforting, because I felt remarkably peaceful about the prospect of dying.
That's probably true for many of us, actually; it's how our deaths affect those who go on living that concern us as much as the art of dying.
But no stories from me about bright lights, out-of-body experiences, etc. I do recall a bright light, but that was the ceiling light in the ambulance, which was shining in my eyes quite intently when the paramedics finally brought me back (they said that my eyes had dilated quite a bit during those minutes, which is why a routine vehicle ceiling light seemed so bright). Nothing mystical or profound there... but the experience was strangely comforting, because I felt remarkably peaceful about the prospect of dying.
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