Needless to say, the headlines are more than a little burdensome these days. This week alone, we've been confronted by two of this world's most perplexing tragedies, those of the genocide in Yugoslavia and the high school shooting in Colorado. Naturally, these disturbing events force us all to ponder our social values and norms and, more directly, the nature of humanity itself.
Genocide at least provides a modicum of an answer-- thousands of years of history, tradition, fear and fervor combined with the machinations of war allow us to at least partially, if ultimately unsatisfactorily, explain the inexplicable. However, when seemingly privileged children kill each other, there is no such history at work; merely someteen years of wasted life through which we will aimlessly fumble in the futile search for 'signs.' No doubt, the usual specters will be paraded in the media circus that is sure to transpire for the next couple of weeks. Our vain worship of fame and notoriety for any cause, the ease with which deadly weapons can be obtained in this country and the overwhelming level of violence to which we are exposed through various media will, in varying combinations, assuredly be blamed for the deaths in Littleton.
Already there are reports that the members of the so- called "Trenchcoat Mafia" were enamoured with Marilyn Manson so it is all but a foregone conclusion that the devil's music will bear some of the blame here. But don't be mistaken-- if singers sing of teen angst and violence, those nefarious feelings are already brewing out there. Music, like all art, is merely a reflection of the society that created it and the elements within that society. The disgruntled singer must find a disgruntled audience willing to listen to his song.
On "The Devil in Me," a delicious play on the Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," John Wesley Harding blames misdeeds ranging from the crucifixion to air pollution on that inner demon before astutely concluding, "it all seems like human behavior to me." The song, a shamelessly catchy rollick, was at least partial cause for the promise of Harding's 1991 debut, Here Comes the Groom. The close of the decade that began with such high expectations for Harding finds him once again the folkie, and once again contemplating human nature.
Trad Arr Jones is Harding's tribute to Nic Jones, a British folk guitarist whose arrangements of traditional songs (the album's title is short for the songwriting credit: Traditional; Arranged by Jones) provided blueprints to Dylan and Richard Thompson before an accident ended his recording career. Harding initially found himself intrigued by the tales of murder, deceit and debauchery in these hundreds of years- old songs and attracted to the fragile beauty of Jones' simplistic arrangements. Here, Harding adds only his strong voice and soft guitar to the faithful arrangements, though he respectfully notes that he had to adjust Jones' guitar parts down to his own skill level. As a result, the beautiful songs reveal themselves willingly. Killers kill senselessly and loved ones die tragically, while lovers betray each other throughout the album's eleven tracks.
These songs, penned centuries ago, find the depths of human depravity as simply stated as the newspaper headlines we will read tomorrow morning, reflecting the harsh times in which they were written. Refracted through recent events, they provide no answers, only uncertainty. But just as these songs also sing of love and the struggle of the human spirit against itself, so, too, will the coming days and months bring us heartening tales of strangers saving lives under duress and students courageously helping one another in the face of danger. It is a sad truth that we live in a world perhaps even more brutal than the centuries- old one Harding sings of. It seems that after all these years, we would grow accustomed to our failings, but our communal shock is a reflection of our eternal hope for improvement. And that hope just might be our saving grace.
