I'm not sure which is more depressing: that the House and Senate caved to White House intimidation over the "need" for broader domestic surveillance powers, or that none of my patients -- including a local attorney -- seems to have heard anything about it.
Like many Americans, I had a spike of hope when Democrats won control of the House and Senate last November. Since then, Republican/White House obstructionism combined with the cowardice of certain Democratic members of Congress has tempered (if not destroyed) that hope. And when I despair, I turn to the political blogs for hope; and when those blogs drive me further into depression, I listen to music.
This is a diary about the new Nine Inch Nails CD, Year Zero.
A caveat: I lack the vocabulary to discuss music; I don't even know that much about Nine Inch Nails. I don't listen to much music, so for all I know, there may be a lot of other good protest songs out there. This diary from Kestrel9000 addresses those other guys and gals.
NIN's Trent Reznor isn't for everyone. (Has there ever been a protest musician for everyone? Was Baez or Dylan for everyone?) But Trent's just right for me. I can relate to his fury, his frustration, and, yes, his self-hatred.
And, you know what? I like his rage a lot better now that it's turned against the injustices of our times, rather than other musicians (e.g., The Fragile's "Starf*ckers Inc.") or the music industry (e.g., The Downward Spiral's "March of the Pigs") or himself (e.g., The Downward Spiral's "Hurt"). Trent Reznor, long an apolitical performer, has found his public voice.
Admittedly, "The Hand that Feeds" (With Teeth) had George W. Bush as its target. But I think "The Hand that Feeds" was, well, hopeful:
Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?
Not much hope, admittedly, but Reznor's asking the questions; he's not assuming any answers. In Year Zero's "Meet Your Master" that slender beam of hope is gone.
You've left quite a mess here
Under your stewardship
You thought you figured it out but
You'll find your place in this
Most of Reznor's anger is reserved for this Administration's enablers. I think that's the real point of Year Zero's "Capital G":
Well I use to stand for something
Now I'm on my hands and knees
Trading in my god for this one
And he signs his name with a capital G
In "The Beginning of the End," the theme appears again:
You wait your turn you'll be last in line
This is the beginning
Get out the way, cause I'm getting mine
This is the beginning
God helps the ones that can help themselves
This is the beginning
Is this good music for the resistance? Is it constructive to loathe ourselves for sustaining this Administration -- with our tax dollars, if not with our votes?
I really don't know. With family and friends, I've shared my growing sense of guilt and complicity. Throwing money at progressive candidates, signing petitions, writing my Congresscritters -- it's a salve for that guilt, but not a very good one. The disgust keeps building inside me. When Bush and his minions commit some new atrocity on the Constitution, and when Congress fails to slap them down, that disgust threatens to boil over.
No small wonder that the chorus of Year Zero's last song, "Zero Sum," chokes me up every time.
Shame on us
Doomed from the start
May god have mercy
On our dirty little hearts
Shame on us
For all we've done
And all we ever were
Just zeros and ones
. . . because what precedes it (a whisper, sotto voce, the voice of conscience) seems to be the story of my impotent pseudo-activist life:
They're starting to open up the sky,
They're starting to reach down through.
And it feels like we're living in that split second
Of a car crash
And time is slowing down,
And if we'd only had a little more time
And this time
Is all there is
Do you remember the time we
And all the times we
And should have
And were going to
I know.
And I know you remember
How we could justify it all
And we knew better
In our hearts we knew better.
And we told ourselves it didn't matter.
And we chose to continue
And none of that matters anymore.
In the hour of our twilight
And soon it will be all said and done,
And we'll all be back together, as one
If we continue at all.
In our hearts, we knew better. Now I know I'm not alone in feeling like I haven't done enough, yet not knowing what else to do.
