I would be racked with a sincere guilt if I didn't at least mention that Bad Religion had recently celebrated their 30th birthday. After all, they were my first punk band; heard "Infected" on the radio around '94 or '95 and I was floored, which is kind of funny because that song was, comparatively speaking, tailor made for the airwaves. Nevertheless, it contrasted starkly with the Candlebox's and Seven Mary Three's of the time. It had a volatile energy, even at a mid-tempo. And there was something distinct about vocalist Greg Graffin: he didn't have that drawl of self-loathing narcissism common to frontmen and songwriters. He was articulate, both in terms of his pronunciation and vocabulary. The obviousness of the latter was driven home when I finally got my hands on a copy of Stranger Than Fiction (don't know how my parents let me walk out the Wherehouse with a CD by a band named "Bad Religion"...big thanks, mom and dad). At age 9, I recall reading the lyrics to the title track.A febrile shocking violent smack
the children are hoping for a heart attack
tonight the windows are watching,
the streets all conspire
and the lamppost can't stop crying
If I could fly high above the world
would I see a bunch of living dots spell the word stupidity?
Or would I just see hunger lover homicides,
loving brother suicides
and olly olly oxenfrees, who pickaside and hide
...moving on...
In my alley around the corner
there's a wino with feathered shoulders
and a spirit giving head for crack
and he'll never want it back.
There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like Thanksgiving
and a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living
Again, I was 9. So all this went right over my head; my only concerns were playing baseball, drinking Slurpees and collecting X-Men comics - everything kids that age should be worrying about. It wasn't until the angst of my teenage years that BR's lyrics became discernible and I began to adopt the liberal ideologies and cynical worldview that were conveyed in their songs. And that's a healthy cynicism, mind you - not some involuntary, knee-jerk, "fuck the government" response. It was more about understanding the individual in relation to the rest of society and coming to terms with fact that there is strength in being an outlier, but that it's not always a comfortable position to inhabit. Okay, there was a slight inclination to smash the state. But I think the rebel spirit is a healthy part of youth. Otherwise, there'd just be apathetic band nerds and Rush Limbaugh jocks.
tonight the windows are watching,
the streets all conspire
and the lamppost can't stop crying
If I could fly high above the world
would I see a bunch of living dots spell the word stupidity?
Or would I just see hunger lover homicides,
loving brother suicides
and olly olly oxenfrees, who pickaside and hide
...moving on...
In my alley around the corner
there's a wino with feathered shoulders
and a spirit giving head for crack
and he'll never want it back.
There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like Thanksgiving
and a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living
Again, I was 9. So all this went right over my head; my only concerns were playing baseball, drinking Slurpees and collecting X-Men comics - everything kids that age should be worrying about. It wasn't until the angst of my teenage years that BR's lyrics became discernible and I began to adopt the liberal ideologies and cynical worldview that were conveyed in their songs. And that's a healthy cynicism, mind you - not some involuntary, knee-jerk, "fuck the government" response. It was more about understanding the individual in relation to the rest of society and coming to terms with fact that there is strength in being an outlier, but that it's not always a comfortable position to inhabit. Okay, there was a slight inclination to smash the state. But I think the rebel spirit is a healthy part of youth. Otherwise, there'd just be apathetic band nerds and Rush Limbaugh jocks.
Nowadays, I'm a little softer. I'd sell a limb for a job that provided a living wage. I indulge in the viewing of arbitrary, testosterone-driven competitions such as MMA. And I occasionally listen to that second Counting Crows record. But looking back, I have to acknowledge Graffin and company as laying an important part my character's foundation. My parents taught me how to be sensitive and compassionate. Bad Religion taught me how to shove a foot up the ass of any status quotidian dogmas that fail to pass tests of simple logic. And for that I am eternally indebted to them.
To celebrate this grand occasion, I figured I'd throw up my favorite BR song - which is no easy task for me to designate. But if there is one jam of theirs I live by, it would have to be this one. Consult the lyrics below if you feel compelled to sing along.
A grizzly scene on my electron beam
told a story about human rights
So all the King's horses
and all the King's men
had a riot
for two days and nights
Well, the city exploded
but the gates wouldn't open
so the company asked him to quit
Now everybody's equal
Just don't measure it
Well Hanson did it to Hester
and Mark David did it to John
and maybe Jack did it to Marilyn
but he did it to South Vietnam
For beauty and glory
for money, love and country
Everybody's doing it,
Don't do that to me
A bitter debate and feminine fate
lie in tandem like two precious babes
While the former gets warmer,
it's the latter that matters
except on the nation's airwaves
And custodians of public opinion stayed back
after vainly discussing her rights
Lay hands off her body
it's not your fucking life
I don't know what stopped
Jesus Christ from turning
every hungry stone into bread
and I don't remember hearing
how Moses reacted
when the innocent first born sons
lay dead
Well I guess
God was a lot more demonstrative
back when he
flamboyantly parted the sea
Now everbody's praying
Don't prey on me
