Indie music and secular theology - Isaac Brock

So I've just confirmed something that I had suspected for some time. The common denominator behind (some of) these indie bands that are doing a sort of secular theology is Isaac Brock, the lead singer of Modest Mouse and a former A&R for subpop (he signed Wolf Parade and invited the Shins to tour with him). As I've mentioned before, I'm intrigued by the theology of "Saint Simon" by the Shins, "Ocean Breathes Salty" and "Bukowski" from Modest Mouse's last lp, as well as "Dear Sons and Daughters of Hungry Ghosts" and "I'll believe in anything" by Wolf Parade. Frankly there is a litany of artists playing with or participating in God these days: Champion (Oh Lord, there ain't no heaven); K-os (everyday is Saturday night but I can't wait for Sunday morning); The Hold Steady (I feel Jesus in the tenements of young and awkward lovers / I feel Judas in the pistols and the pagers that come with all the powder); Death Cab for Cutie (If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied / illuminate the nos on their vacancy signs ... then I'll follow you into the dark). What I notice in Champion is that he evokes "the Lord" while he negates the Lord's product (?) - heaven, and uses the vocal idioms of spirituals (post-spirituals - this might apply to Moby as well). With Death Cab what we have is just the desire to mine a catholic background for poetic phrases, but the fixation on darkness and the persistence of substance, of life, this does seem to be a secular eschatology. There is a wish to step beyond symbolism into some unity of identity. This must have to do with the ubiquity of the media, and the desire to escape it.

You hear something similar in the Shins "Saint Simon" (which now comes with Windows XP - hows that for indie?). The singer wants to let his guard down, allow himself no mock defense and step into the night. But his night is not a night of lack or negation, but rather the appearance of lady mercy (Our Lady of Mercy in a cloud of sonic beauty), with eyes so blue, which evokes this pietist response (nothing holds a roman candle to the sudden warmth you feel inside of you). The title of the song is also puzzling - Saint Simon - which leads you to think about the Catholic Canon, but which actually signifies the father of socialism, French positivist Saint-Simon. Thus the escape from answers seems not to be an escape from religion, but rather from politics, or political theory. This escape leads to mercy, and an encounter with beauty - the city of God?

But if the Shins are contemplating the city of God, Modest Mouse is protesting the truthiness of contemporary Augustinians. Throughout The Good Times are Killing Me Brock lists the faults of God (seemingly to God - like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof):

If God controls the land and disease
Keeps a watchful eye on me
If he's really so damn mighty
My problem is that I can't see
Well who'd wanna be?
Who'd wanna be such a control freak?
Well who'd wanna be?
Who would wanna be such a control freak? (Bukowski)

But in between his disillusioned questioning, Brock provides some lines that approach the sacramental (Ocean Breathes Salty):

Your body may be gone, I’m gonna carry you in.
In my head, in my heart, in my soul.
And maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll both live again.
Well I don’t know. I don’t know.
I don’t know. Don’t think so.
...
Well that is this and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw
and I’ll tell you what you missed,
when the ocean met the sky
You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye.
[You missed] When the earth folded in on itself.
[You missed] And said “Good luck,
for your sake I hope heaven and hell
[You missed] are really there, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
[You missed] You wasted life, why wouldn’t you waste death?
[You missed] You wasted life, when wouldn’t you waste death?
The ocean breathes salty, wont you carry it in?
In your head, in your mouth, in your soul.

Clearly Brock is a conflicted lyricist. He does seem to describe a doubter's thoughts about a "natural" Eucharist. I can see a protagonist standing on the shores of Puget Sound, looking out too eternity, confronting the loss within. Which leads me to more of Brock's complaints and accusations about God:

You were laying on the carpet
Like you're satin in a coffin
You said, "Do you believe what you're sayin'?"
Yeah right now, but not that often
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
God I sure hope you are dead

Well you disappeared so often
Like you dissolved into coffee
Are you here right now or are there
Probably fossils under your meat?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
God I sure hope you are dead

Now the blow's been softened, since the air we breathe's our coffin
Well now the blow's been softened, since the ocean is our coffin
Often times you know our laughter is our coffin ever after
And you know the blow's been softened, since the world is our coffin
And now the blow's been softened, since we are our own damn coffins
Well everybody's talkin' 'bout their short lists
Everybody's talkin' 'bout DEATH!

Well, perhaps that's enough of Brock for the day. He gets a bit blasphemous for me (though he his usually talking about God by talking about someone else, like Bukowski). Wolf Parade seems to continue Brock's conflicted description of God, but where Brock seems to hold onto something, carry a burden of lost-fundamentalism perhaps, WP just seems lost in Montreal's relativity:

I got a hand
So I got a fist
So I got a plan
It's the best that I can do
Now we'll say it's in God's hands
But God doesn't always have the best goddamn plans, does he? (Hungry Ghosts)

Ok, so maybe that does sound like post-fundamentalist angst, but I still think it's concocted. Brock's is dripping with real, untold history, WP, not so much. Here's a glance at "I'll believe in anything", which has a nice critique of urban relationships embedded in it:

Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Your blood, your bones
Your voice, and your ghost

We've both been very brave
Walk around with both legs
Wait for the scary day
We both pull the tricks out of our sleeves

But I'll believe in anything
And you'll believe in anything
Said I'll believe in anything
And you'll believe in anything

If I could take the fire out from the wire
I'd share a life and you'd share a life
If I could take the fire out from the wire
I'd share a life and you'd share a life
If I could take the fire out from the wire
I'd take you where nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn
Said nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn

So WP seems to have some trickle down angst inspired by Brock. There will be more on indie music and secular theology in the future. Some of my past posts cover this as well.

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