[Punkrockmonday #5] Henry Rollins- What Am I Doing Here; Willie Nelson- Me and Paul; Rainbow Connection (orig. Kermit the Frog)

If I remember right, somewhere Heidegger quotes Novalis to the effect that philosophy is nothing else than homesickeness, an urge to be at home. I don't really understand what that is supposed to mean, and moreover am deeply suspicious of all strains of Romanticism. . . but dangit there really is something to the claim that humans suffer an almost primal sense of feeling out of place, a visceral feeling of "what am I doing here?" even sometimes where the "here" in question is standing in front of a mirror (cf. Leonard Cohen's "Dress Rehearsal Rag"). And Novalis is probably right to the extent that this has some connection with the reason many of us are motivated to try to hear what the philosophy muse will share with us.

And it's certainly a common trope in good music. I've seen live performances of all three of the songs I'm featuring today.

First is Henry Rollins in 1987, still aglow from the sheen of immortal rock avatarness achieved while fronting Black Flag. Like so much of Rollins, or Rollins era Black Flag for that matter, the lyrics could have been written by Morrissey (and that's a good thing!).

This is the glorious snarl of the (talented) teenaged existentialist who refuses to accept breakdowns in her quest for meaning. Going through it is part of being human I think.

But Willie Nelson draws humor from the incongruity of life and our expectations:

I fricking love it when he gets to "I guess Buffallo aint geared for me and Paul" as if a whole geographical location could somehow decide that it's not for you. In the context of the surrounding lyrics it's hilarious. But also true. Sometimes events can conspire to make you feel this way. 

Example- Last Saturday I'd been working in my office on Lee Braver related stuff, and I decided to take a break by walking somewhere to purchase a sandwich. But I didn't want to buy anything from the LSU Student Union because they installed all these blaring televisions and I'm one of those people who simply feels violated when unwillingly subjected to militantly stupid cacophany. I'm not happy paying for the displeasure.

So I trecked north of LSU to get to a sandwhich shop where at least the televisions didn't have the volumes on, enjoying the beauty of the day and the fact that the jerks in charge of what passes for civilization haven't found a way to put intrusive blaring televisions on public streets yet (they will! at the last APA I realized that the taxicabs in Boston already have them now, and there's no way to turn them off or down; you can pay money to turn the volume louder or change the channel but not to turn it off).

Anyhow it really was beautiful outside, with the azeleas in full riot mode. There weren't many cars on campus so I could hear some of the sounds of the earth, and so I was just perambulating pretty slowly, forgetting about the televisions, the sunshine and beauty leading me into a state of grace, like a single ski sliding down a mountain side. That was me, just for that brief moment.

But when I got half way across Dalrymple Drive on the north end of campus all these people sitting by the road started yelling at me. There were no cars, and I had no idea what they were yelling about, and it was so cacophonous that I almost didn't make out the very loudest "GET! OUT! OF! THE! ROAD!" (this from a police officer) until the microsecond before I almost got ran over by twenty bicyclists, all wearing those ridiculous shorts, who had just turned a corner. They were going really, really fast and had numbers on their silly scuba type shirts. It was some kind of bicycle race, which is an oxymoron, since you're supposed to ride a bike because you don't like having to be in a hurry to get to places.I mean, if you're in a hurry drive a car or something. Let us bicyclists and pedestrians enjoy the blooming azaleas.

Anyhow, independently of my feeling about bicycle races, it was pretty embarassing. I almost caused an injurious pileup and ruined the whole thing.The group of people sitting by the road and that one police officer yelling at me were all pretty steamed.

I could have reacted the Henry Rollins way. But in my middle age I've found the Willie Nelson way is often more practicable. To someone who knows both musicians this sounds like nothing so much as a ringing endorsement of marijuana over black coffee; it is not meant to be. What I mean to say is this. Both the buildings and roads were inhospitable to me. The whole day conspired to make me feel that deep sense of not belonging, of living in a culture just designed for radically different creatures than myself. A freak. But not in that cool sense of being a freak from the wonderful time period when grown African American men routinely called one another "baby" in casual conversation. No, more like a freak in the sense Novalis was trying to make himself feel better about with the ludicrous claim about the consolation of philosophy. That kind of freak.

And I really don't know what the solution to that kind of feeling is. Heidegger built a hut, which is pretty charming, and something I could see looking into. But then he started forcing his students to go Volksmarching with him, concluding in all of them singing the Horst Wessel song in front of a big bonfire. And we all (should) know what that leads, and in fact led, to. . .

But perhaps my fears are misplaced. . . one shouldn't make existential homelessness too difficult. After all, there is an infinite distance between Horst Wessel and Willie Nelson. I mean, if your Romanticism allows you to sing Kermit the Frog songs around a fire, maybe it actually is all to the good. Check this out, the anti-Horst Wessel. Willie doesn't enter and start singing until the 2:00 minute mark. But it's well worth the wait.

This song actually fits my APA presentation, since I'm focusing on Braver's Heidegger versus Meillassoux on stars (the morning one of which is sung about in the song). Meillassoux argues to my mind persuasively that the epistemic straightjacket of phenomenology prohibits one from finding the rainbow connection. But with Meillassoux, Kermit the Frog, Willie Nelson, and the lovers, and the dreamers, I too fully expect to find it some day.

1. [Punkrockmonday #1] The White Stripes - Jack the Ripper (orig. Screaming Lord Sutch), Black Math, and the Big Three Killed My Baby]
2. [Punkrockmonday #2] Roy Cook - Saint Paul Cathedral, Minneapolis Capitol Building, Aayla Secura Mosaic, and Firefly Class Spaceship
3. [Punkrockmonday #3] El Général- Rais Le Bled (President, Your Country)
4. [Punkrockmonday #4] Charlie Patton -High Water Everywhere, Part 2