metric reflection

I figure tonight, of all nights, as the Presidential candidates conclude their 3rd snoozeslugfest, is the best time to introduce this catchy little song from The Rosebuds:

The Rosebuds - Bow to the Middle: The Religion of Politics

This is a dance song, but not in the traditional sense: it’s not meant to get the listener on their feet (though it’s certainly catchy) but to describe the Chaplin shuffle politicians perform every couple years - the one the candidates are both dancing right now.  I’m not going to get too far into the actual politics of our two candidates, or the substance of their arguments (though my roommate has a great dissection of one question in the last debate that I’ve been meaning to commend him for), but rather in the meta-aspect of it.  The point is summed in the chorus:

Hey yeah, walk to the middle and bow to the middle
Hey yeah, walk to the left and bow to the middle
Hey yeah, walk to the right and bow to the middle
Hey yeah, walk all around and bow to the middle

It’s what candidates in our system are required to do:bow to the incessant demands of the inattentive swing voter, the person who still thinks Obama doesn’t give any policy details and McCain just wants to be like any other Republican, but doesn’t really get why.  It’s the continual groveling before the altar of the low information constituency that really undermines everyone interested in furthering the country’s policies - including that very same swing voter.  See, when you spend all your time tempering your statements with an eye toward the middle, with covering your beliefs up just enough that those in the middle will miss your appeals to your base, they end up seeing you as insincere - and that’s when they start doubting.  You, as a politician, carry on your shoulders the mantle of the inadequacies of the system and all the old politicans you evoke in people, and it’s your job to move the discussion past it to the issues you want to discuss.

Incidentally, it’s the Democrats who have traditionally had the biggest problem with this.  Even Bill Clinton, the master of connecting to the white working class, suffered from this.  Republicans, like Bush, were able to wink in both directions by using coded language (see: the Dred Scott decision as a dog whistle to pro-lifers or Reagan, Philadelphia, MS and race).  In this race, it seems that this dynamic has shifted a bit, with McCain being seen more and more as the insincere one, particularly in regards to the economy.

I spend a lot of my off time thinking about political movements - how they are formed, grow, communicate, and, eventually stagnate.  Bowing to the middle on the election trail has been the premier requirement in American politics for at least a generation (right up there with kissing babies), and in that generation, one party has shown itself better practiced at this performance.  I’m curious how much longer this will last, and the form this dance will take in years to come.

***

I haven’t written much lately; in part, my free time has been focused on the election and less on music (though I have picked up a lot of great stuff lately), but also because of the demands of end of the year performance metrics coupled with my knack for finding more side projects for myself.  No clue when this will end, but the end of the year looks like a nice cutoff point.

Oh, and the Rosebuds are really great.  Everyone should check them out.

High school Honors English often seemed at times like an endless stream of pointless, difficult, and hated books (ugh, Wuthering Heights) interspersed with a few that glowed with genius, originality and talent.  Those are the ones that stick with you: Gatsby’s empty opulence informs your perception of the rich you encounter everyday; the swinging lightbulb in Wright’s Native Son reminds you of the beacon of hope you have to find in the darkest moments.

But no text stimulated me quite as much as Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle.  Sinclair’s description of the everyday horrors of the meat processing plant, and the efforts to unionize them, sparked the first inklings of political awareness - the first concrete idea that people can be exploited and abused.  I can’t even recall much of the second half of the book except that the main character was adrift, trying to deal with the station of his life.

I bring this up because today is Labor Day, and like Veteran’s Day or Memorial Day, we as a society have forgotten the reason we celebrate it.  Instead of merely a day of barbeques, beaches, and baseball, and lamentations about the crisis of having to return to work the following day, those are supposed to be a means of actively celebrating the value of the American workforce, and the sacrifices that generations before us made in order to protect an honest day’s work.  It’s a time to recognize the power of people-powered movements - to exploit an already overused phrase - to solicit change.

The strikes and beatings of the late 19th and early 20th century taught people that they didn’t have to be exploited; that, working together they could change the system.  This, of course, culminated in events like the protests at the 1968 Democratic Convention, where protestors and police went to war with each other.  Now, though, mass grassroots political events seem to barely elicit notice; only in something like a speech given to 75,000 people can we see glimmers of something similar - though of course it’s directed from the top-down.  And just a week later, as police raid the homes of protesters and arrest journalists on the streets of St. Paul surrounding the Republican convention, scant attention is paid in the media as a whole - just as their counterparts were ignored last week in Denver (note: I’m not endorsing any of them or their actions, just noting the lack of oxygen in stories about them).

So protests do almost nothing anymore, but they once did; and people bled and died to force better working conditions, shorter work weeks, and health and safety protections.  That we live in a country where that could ever happen is reason enough to celebrate.

The Jungle opens with a traditional wedding - a night of dancing, of a community celebrating.  The air carries hope and optimism, the sound of chattering fiddles and the warm aroma of ovens of food.  It’s a truly ordinary event, replicated countless times any given weekend, but for the people involved, it’s momentous, connecting their future with the storied past of their families.

DeVotchKa evokes much of this spirit, bridging the past and the future with the exuberance of a classic wedding band.  Their live shows, according to their bio, can feature sousaphone, accordion, piano, violin, bouzouki, trumpets, and theremin in addition to the standard rock instruments.  The drummer was raised by Lithuanian polka musicians; the violinist is classically trained.  Their most recent album, A Mad and Faithful Telling, which was released earlier this year, dips its toe into several classical styles.

The song below, Transliterator, is available for free on rcrdlbl.com.