A religious experience

Perhaps I should preface this by stating that with the exception of a few visits to a friends Unitarian church to hear her sing in the choir (an excellent experience every time, by the way, thanks!), I am not the type to go to church. The last time I went other than those mentioned above was probably close to 15 years ago. This is not to say that I'm not spiritual. I am. And I know...saying so is the last refuge of a scoundrel, something to say to reassure others and perhaps even yourself that you are not completely morally bankrupt. Not so with me. I consider myself a Bhuddist and will happily identify myself as such. However I am about as orthodox as a Jew who celebrates Christmas and wouldn't say no to bacon on a sandwich.
But this is about a religious experience of another kind, gentle readers.
New Model Army has been kicking around for 21 years now. Their first album, released on vinyl (remember vinyl?) came out in 1984. Shortly thereafter, they were signed by EMI and put out a string of hit albums and became bigger than U2. Only they didn't. They should have. They were certainly talented enough. They had the same political edge that U2 embodied early on before they got rich. But despite cranking out several albums, many of which did well, they didn't ever really do great. And with lyrics that didn't hold back its venom towards Thatcher's England, they alienated the US audiences. They came to my attention around about 1986 when Ghost of Cain was released with the hit "51st State". They were at the forefront of the late 80's alt rock scene. But their criticisim for US - England relations led to their being banned from touring the states. So they continued to plug away, turning out amazing albums that took a critical look not only at politics, but global economic policy and mankind's inherent barbaric nature. And they did so with more musical chops and painful sincerity than a lot of bands at the time. New Model Army has been one of my three favorite bands since Thunder and Consolation in 1989, the album which was the inspiration for my only tattoo. When I moved to Seattle, I found tracking down imports of any of their albums a priority.
But I had resigned myself to the fact that, although the still toured in the UK and Germany where they were still popular, I would never get to see them live.
They played the Tractor Tavern on September 20th of this year. Having found out about the show only six hours earlier, I was in attendance. Despite having to be up early for work the next day, despite my already full schedule which included commuting down to Kent, shipping a pet to Chicago, then driving into a somewhat out of the way neighborhood, despite money being tight, despite all of that, I was there.
And it was a religious experience.
About halfway into the song "Believe It" from Love of Hopeless Causes, my favorite album of theirs, I felt the most amazing connection; to the song, to the room, to Svengali-like lead singer Justin Sullivan, to the world, but most importantly, to the cause. And that cause is, in a nutshell, the eternal struggle of mankind to live up to our potential and truly become the loving, responsible, humans that we are capable of being but so often are too lazy or corrupt to actualize. I felt this. I felt both embraced and confronted by the challenge of our potential, and I realized that we are losing. And I couldn't stop crying. I'm crying now thinking about it, over two weeks later.
I believe the lyrics that triggered this catharsis were "Oh how they only talk about us when we're far away. Behind their frigid eyes they know more than they ever say. They only tell the you truth when they get drunk enough. Its a town of cornered animals, teeth bared - out of control. Is this what we've come to - I don't believe it. After everything we've been through - I don't believe it."
But I do believe it. And you do too. The world is going to hell. The people in positions to fix things are more interested in lining their pockets and pointing fingers. The people who try to change things are silenced, or ignored, or simply have their findings "spun" to reflect something far from the truth. And we are, for all intents and purposes, our of reasonable alternatives, reasonable means for recourse, for justice. The bastards are winning, ladies and gentlemen. And that bastard is us. "Every night I clench my teeth and fail to get to sleep. I can not bear the stillness drawn across the surface of the world." From the same song, actually.
But that night, for one glorious concert a little less than two hours long I was with kindred souls, shouting and singing and pumping our fists and dancing and yes, occasionally, crying. I was not alone. I was not the only voice crying out into the wind. I was not the only person who listened to these songs and heard anthems, who heard calls to action. Not to arms, necessarily, not like a previous administration who shall remained un-named might have thought when the single "Here Comes the War" was released with instructions to build an atomic bomb on the sleeve...I mean, they got that from the fricking library...that was the whole point. But more a call to be better people, to live up to the promise of humanity, and, perhaps bear witness because its entirely possible things are going to get a whole hell of a lot worse.
As I said. A religious experience. I felt reborn. And I know how strange it sounds, so don't be shaking your finger. I'm not about to put on a robe and hand out flyers at the bus stop. But it was reafirming.
So let us end today's parable with a final lyric from Justin Sullivan, recorded by him and the mates, from "Ballad" off their first big album --
"When they look back at us and they write down their history, what will they say about our generation? We're the ones who knew everything still we did nothing, harvested everything, planted nothing. Well we live pretty well in the wake of the goldrush, floating in comfort on waves of our apathy. Quietly gnawing away at Her body until we mortage the future, bury our children. Storehouses full with the fruits we've been given, we send off the scrag-ends to suckle the starving. But still we can not fill this strange hunger inside - greedy, restless, and unsatisfied."

-T