losing the luxury of ennui
Feb. 26th, 2003 03:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gurdonark"I used to be a boy--my heart was young and supple then. Now it's stony cold; I'm old and I could use a friend. My world is not like yours, I come from somewhere long ago. Now there's no way back. I'm lost and I feel so alone". --Bill Nelson, from "Life in the Air Age".
I've always been attracted to rock songs about world-weariness. For some reason, being tired of it all has a real lyrical appeal to me. Although it is rather a different point, I think there's a synchrony that I am much more oriented to post-punk than punk and most of my favorite forms of rock have a modifying adjective preceding them, such as "art", "progressive" or "electronic".
As I get older, though, I begin to realize that many of the songs I love the best which deal with the sheer cosmic weight of time on one's shoulders, were in fact written by twenty five year olds. I have come to realize that world-weariness in the bistro sense is a luxury of the young. Perhaps it's no surprise that in general, the rock music industry has proven remarkable age-ist. But I remember being in my early twenties, listening to Bryan Ferry or David Bowie songs, thinking about how very old and tired I felt with life.
I now regard this form of ennui as a commodity I can no longer afford. I've gotten my bifocals, I've seen the lines begin to appear, and I've noticed how the kids behind the counter accord me near-fossil status. More importantly, I see real weariness a few short decades in my future, barring disease or an errant Buick. I simply no longer have the time for romantic despair, as there is too much actual day to day living (including the sometime entry into despair) to do. I read one of those on-line articles about a study that suggests that people who try to act happy and friendly end up feeling more happy and friendly than otherwise. I'm wary of such clever conclusions. But I am sure that even as the years make me like better than ever those sweeping lyrical expressions of contemptus mundi, the years also teach me that life is far too short. I must savor what little I am allotted while I can. Even the most optimistic faiths assure me this is only a passage--and I don't have time to tarry on the misplaced longings that sell records but do not save souls.
I've always been attracted to rock songs about world-weariness. For some reason, being tired of it all has a real lyrical appeal to me. Although it is rather a different point, I think there's a synchrony that I am much more oriented to post-punk than punk and most of my favorite forms of rock have a modifying adjective preceding them, such as "art", "progressive" or "electronic".
As I get older, though, I begin to realize that many of the songs I love the best which deal with the sheer cosmic weight of time on one's shoulders, were in fact written by twenty five year olds. I have come to realize that world-weariness in the bistro sense is a luxury of the young. Perhaps it's no surprise that in general, the rock music industry has proven remarkable age-ist. But I remember being in my early twenties, listening to Bryan Ferry or David Bowie songs, thinking about how very old and tired I felt with life.
I now regard this form of ennui as a commodity I can no longer afford. I've gotten my bifocals, I've seen the lines begin to appear, and I've noticed how the kids behind the counter accord me near-fossil status. More importantly, I see real weariness a few short decades in my future, barring disease or an errant Buick. I simply no longer have the time for romantic despair, as there is too much actual day to day living (including the sometime entry into despair) to do. I read one of those on-line articles about a study that suggests that people who try to act happy and friendly end up feeling more happy and friendly than otherwise. I'm wary of such clever conclusions. But I am sure that even as the years make me like better than ever those sweeping lyrical expressions of contemptus mundi, the years also teach me that life is far too short. I must savor what little I am allotted while I can. Even the most optimistic faiths assure me this is only a passage--and I don't have time to tarry on the misplaced longings that sell records but do not save souls.
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no subject
Date: 2003-02-26 06:06 pm (UTC)I enjoy lurking around your journal and reading what you have to say -- always interesting, always thought-provoking. Keep up the great work.
C.
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Date: 2003-02-27 04:11 am (UTC)I remember being in a record shop in Arkansas at age 16 or so, when somebody was playing Sunburst Finish.
I thought it was amazing, and picked up Live! in the Air Age! to take to college with me. It was an LP and EP combination, and I was one of the lucky ones who got the special "white" disks, although in hindsight, I cannot imagine how special that could have been. I don't know which I loved more, "Life in the Air Age", "Ships in the Night", or that wonderful guitar solo in "Adventures in a Yorkshire Landscape". I used to air guitar those records, but I also remember looking up the various literary references--Cocteau, Austin Osman Spare, etc.
I still listen to that record sometimes, and I must admit that I lurk the weblog at www.billnelson.com.
One of my personal trivia boasts is in that in the Creem Readers' Poll from 1981 or so, I'm quoted as saying "America still has not discovered compassion, literacy or Bill Nelson". One of my friends figured out how to get my poll quote published--he put a marshmallow into the mailing envelope, so that it would stand out.
Thanks for commenting. Those were fun times.
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Date: 2003-02-27 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-02-27 07:26 am (UTC)I'm glad I missed out on that.
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There is always Rimbaud - poetic and despairing.
Almost anything is more cheerful than that!