There are various suggestions, anecdotal advice offered in hindsight, or reductive platitudes which are offered up as ways to maintain a faithful disposition in the face strenuous or destructive events. I wonder about it often. So far, I have been spared any transformative tragedies. But, I am always afraid; I am afraid of any particular event that would threaten the lives of my family and friends. I’m also afraid over how I would react, how I would attempt to make sense of it in relation to God’s telos. The idea that any event would serve as retribution for one’s sinful existence, or as punishment for the conscious dismissal of Christ’s teachings, seems rather delusional and paranoid. It’s altogether myopic and self-absorbed. In addition, it calls to mind a rather archaic hermeneutic, static, largely counter intuitive to a dominant christian narrative…so here we have a conflict — The psychical balancing act that attempts to arrange God’s plan for the world with the individual relational aspect put forth in New Testament text, bears upon the individual especially hard and activates an oscillation between these respective view points…a vain yet authentic attempt to position oneself, on the one hand, as a faithful subject within God’s plan for the world, and on the other, as a beloved individual whose hair has been counted and whose life has been uniquely predestined by God and loved unconditionally by Christ. So, perhaps, between days and fits of despair, we choose the former, and on other days the latter. On one particular day we may be strengthened by this idea of God’s over all plan and our place in it, a comforting sensation that level’s the horizon, de-emphasizing our all too frequent failures, and placing us helpless yet devoted. Then perhaps the night falls and we find ourselves alone, and the guilt comes rushing back. We recall our chutzpah, our infidelities, those biblical narratives of punishment for turning away from God’s will. We remember the words of Jesus and his polemical words on sin. We recall our failure to act on even the most basic Christian teachings of unconditional love for our neighbor, charity, and proud proclamation of our faith. We wrestle with God’s forgiveness and mercy against the all too oppressive reality of our current state, utterly broken. Unfortunately, at these moments, we can not extend into the future and gaze back from any higher understanding. Rather, we are smaller than ever and anyone who reminds you that God won’t ever give what you can’t handle, and that this is part of God’s larger plan, the reminder to remain in love is, more maddening than ever imagined. There is no solution. The thought of God’s love does not translate, it is met with despairing indifference and a blank stare.

There is, in a certain sense, a Kantian notion to Christian engagement which is contextualized by the power of God and the need for the individual to seek God’s will. Although, the latter part of this arrangement is entirely dependent on God. One cannot do it alone. Therefore, in what could be called the “existential reality,” God is always complicit in this struggle. Paul, in his apostolic authority, tells us that the grace which saves comes from God, not from ourselves….and conversely, we are told in Matthew that only those of us who do the will of Jesus’s Father will enter into the Kingdom, and elsewhere, that we must make ourselves like children. Oh, these competing narratives, the former which emphasizes our helplessness in this endeavor…one entirely reliant upon the grace of God in accordance with his plan, worked out in conformity with the purpose of his will (Eph 1:11), vs the former, one which, at the very least, frustratingly, implies that there is something which must be done on our part.

Where do I position myself within this matrix — in relation to my own passions and desires given by the same God who demands I neglect them, the call to make myself like a child and do God’s will, against the words of Paul who reminds us that we are predestined. He tells us that God made known to us the mystery, yet, we are suspended so consequentially in the void. What faith indeed! My goal is not to be antagonistic, but to express the anxiety which is informed by my own insecurity, and frustrated by competing narratives of responsibility and providence. Of course, to surrender to providence does not exclude responsibility, but it does activate the oppression of guilt and the incessant presence of sinful conscious in relation to one’s existence. The love of God becomes a concept abstracted and re-appropriated in a rhetoric devoid of substance. No, this love must be experienced, felt first hand…and the, as of yet, absence of this revelation reflects either on me, or on God..neither of which is reassuring.

Yet I am told to remain in faith and surrender. And in speaking truth, that is all anyone can encourage, in as much as there is no way to express the truth directly. It is no one’s fault, so it must be mine. God created me, and perhaps I exploit discrepancies in attempts to express an authenticity which I have a hard time finding. I tell myself it’s not an antagonistic or boastful exercise, but what do I know? God knows me better than I know myself…how unfair that he won’t give me any more hints! She has to realize how dimwitted and unimaginative I am. What a curious providence that expands so spectacularly, impartially, and seductively into nothing, thus allowing everything.

I’m often asked which one of the Mae records is my favorite, the answer is most consistently “Singularity.” This registers in my own mind as somewhat of a surprise. After all, if I could designate any period of time which could be attributed to a negative turning point in Mae’s tenure, it would be associated with the recording and release of Singularity, and the subsequent tour. Aside from the biographical events, the songs and sonic characteristics of this particular record don’t immediately bring to mind feelings up triumph or any elevated accomplishments. Of course, in a certain sense, the writing, recording, and release of any body of songs is an accomplishment, but with Singularity, the accomplishment registered is not similar to that of The Everglow. Furthermore, the fan reception of Singularity was disappointing. Interestingly enough, I don’t blame people for that..but at the same time, I don’t agree with them. The fact that Singularity could maintain so many different positions in my own mind is interesting to me, and I want to explain because I feel the situations and the processes surrounding that record are unique. 

When asked why Singularity is my favorite of the Mae records, I explain it this way: First, the making of a record, the writing of songs, and my perception of those songs is entirely my own in a way that can’t be explained. I can easily agree with someone that a song like Sic Semper Tyrannis is not generally “good,” especially in relation to other Mae songs, but on the other hand, I think SST is a wonderful song. This parallels with the perception of the whole album. I can understand why people didn’t take to it, but in my mind the record excels because I know what it was supposed to sound like. For the song writer, the process of writing plays into the appreciation of a song just as much as the outcome. Of course, the intent holds no torch to the outcome in relation to general fan reception. So, ultimately, Singularity is my favorite because I know what we as a band were trying to do, even if we ultimately fell short. So the question I want to explore is — Why did we fall short?

To start, I think a small anecdote may frame the circumstances we were thrown into. The first song I recorded was “Brink of Disaster.” We did drums first, and Jacob killed it. Then came guitars, upon which both Dave and I contributed our parts. After hearing what was done, the producer Howard Benson wasn’t satisfied with what we did. He said it sounded to cautious, and to be fair that was not too far off. So, his diagnosis was that we were to pent up and needed to relax. To remedy this problem, he comes into the studio one afternoon and lays a stack of pornography down on the table…that was his idea to make us relax. This is the environment in which Singularity was recorded. It wasn’t raucous, it was just….weird. 

An obvious and welcome question would ask why we signed to Capitol in the first place. That is indeed a good question. I’ll attempt a brief history. We signed to Capitol in October of 2006. I have a picture of the occasion. We were on our bus about to depart on a tour. At that time we were as confident in our ability as song writers as we were in our ability to be wisely discerning. Naively, yet not without heavy reflection, we saw Capital as an opportunity to get to where we’d always wanted to be, simple as that. Plus, at the time, the team we signed on too had great promise. Andy Slater, the president, while known to be somewhat erratic, was also more liberal towards those more substantially ambitious. Tom Osborn was the product manager, and he came from Vagrant. Most importantly, our A&R Louie Bandek, had been silently watching us for years…he knew the band. We were encouraged by all of this (Needlessly to say, the whole team, aside from Louie, was gone by the time Singularity was released). Plus, they released so many great bands — Radiohead, The Beatles, Sparklehorse, The Decemberists, Frank Sinatra, Elliott Smith, etc. 

Surely enough, our naive and somewhat confidence induced optimism ran into challenges right away. I want to be clear. Capital didn’t make us do anything we didn’t agree to. Although, ironically, I think that our confidence blinded us to what would be very real obstacles to our goals. We thought we could come out as pure Mae, no matter what. When we started talking about producers, we certainly had a list of ideal candidates. While we loved, and still love, Ken Andrews, we wanted a new experience because we wanted to push ourselves. We wanted Brenden O’Brien (not available), Gil Norton (nope), Eric Valentine (nope). We met with Lou Giordano (who we knew because of his work with Sunny Day Real Estate) but didn’t really mesh. Suspiciously, Howard Benson was available. He was very successful at the time. All of us had reservations about Benson, but we also knew what he was capable of…we went ahead, but our enthusiasm was slowed. I personally justified the decision by reminding myself that Benson worked with TSOL in the past. Was it a coincidence that this massive producer who had worked with plenty of Capital bands was available just when we needed him? Who knows. Did Capital make us do it? No. Did they arrange it such that we would? Maybe? That doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we were heading into a studio for our first major label record with a producer who makes song/creative decisions based on the LCD..that’s right… the “lowest common denominator.”  The idea is that the songs have to be immediately recognizable to the busy person on the go who is listening to the radio, i.e. the music listener, not the music fan.  This philosophy,  of course, is entirely incongruent with Mae’s approach. Not that we didn’t recognize a value in pop appeal, it was never our main goal to be catchy. We loved the craft of pop, but not the intention to make reductive pop songs. 

We had great songs. The writing sessions for Singularity happened in a southern Virginia beach town called Sandbridge. We had a big house and put all of our gear in there, slept there, lived there, wrote there. It was wonderful. We had great songs to bring to Benson, and the pre-production went pretty well. (One of the songs he hated, he said it bounced against his head and he couldn’t make sense of it..but more on that later). All was moving along well, so I often think back and try to put myself in that situation and figure out what was going on. I could discuss the sonic issues, but I’m not sure that is the main problem. The more I think about it, the more one word sticks out to me — isolation. When we recorded The Everglow, we all stayed in one apartment. For Singularity, we were split up between two apartments. When recording The Everglow, we worked together. When recording Singularity, we were isolated..we were compartmentalized. Dave did vocals upstairs with Howard while I did guitars in the main room. Rob had to fight to get a good work space, and thanks to the editor Paul DeCarlo he got one, but it was isolated. This arrangement infected the process. We stopped working together, we stopped hanging out together. We didn’t actively avoid each other, it just occurred circumstantially. Our vision for the album was splintered and we forgot what we were doing. We knew the parts, but we forgot the songs. There was a whole lot on our plate, and it was hard to navigate priorities. We would arrive at around 10 or 11 am, set up, eat lunch, then get to work. Dave would head upstairs and I would go to track guitars. Wait another 15 minutes while the head engineer checked stocks and then got started. The assistants were great and the best day in the studio happened when they were running the board. 

This working environment was as metaphoric as it was literal. I think that is what ended up being so consequential. From this very real split in the band, i.e. being split up between two apartments, it became representational of the interpersonal connections within the band. I don’t mean to introduce a dramatic event, rather, the communication between members of the band took a back seat to the ambition of the band. This is why, to this day, I have am very suspicious of the so often heralded characteristic. Ambition is as polluting as it is necessary. It’s only functional and productive when it is secondary to the interpersonal connections within the band. Of course, we also placed a lot of pressure on ourselves. Our team at Capital did their best to assuage our fears and keep us focused, but that was probably all rhetoric. There was certainly a bottom line. After all, the label spent over $500,000 on it….compare that with Destination: Beautiful, which cost around $3,000 or so if I’m not mistaking.

There is a lot of social capital in speaking of the ills of the label music industry, and I will never deny that those ills exist…but I think that is a cop-out. Well,  it would be a cop-out for Mae. There is a very real consequence to claiming the inability to work with a particular producer, but this is the weird thing….I’m not sure why we didn’t say something. We contested certain decisions, for example, we were very reluctant about the changes made to “Crazy 8’s.” We were very involved in the song order (Interesting side story: a deciding influence in the decision was listening stations. Initially, what ended up being the secret track on the record “Last Transmission I” was the first track, but we changed it because we were worried about what people might think if that’s the first song they hear. All of those industry peeps are very aware of the diminishing attention span of listeners to which they are attributing to). Maybe our complacency was a result of the abundance of tension elsewhere, maybe we were in denial, maybe we thought it was normal…maybe we were unaware. 

Ultimately, the record, I think, played a large part in the break up of the 5 of us as a band. The tour for the record was sold as an underplay (i.e. playing small venues on purpose to sell them out and create the illusion of a special event) and we didn’t sell out the tour. That was a big blow. Maybe one could consider us ungrateful, but that would be inaccurate. I think we were very grateful, but ended up being disillusioned. The narratives weren’t playing out as we had thought. We all had personal affairs, or concerns, that became much more real when we experienced the first hint of slowing down. Up until Singularity, everything had been increasing. We were working hard, but it wasn’t working. It became frustrating..and we forgot everything. The fans could tell…maybe that’s what they reacted to. Maybe it wasn’t Singularity they didn’t like, but they began to become suspicious of the band they had come to enjoy and trust. We were reacting to phantoms. I remember one time our manager asked in a very general sense, “what is wrong?”  I suppose a lot. Determination without reflection is a killer, but productive reflection is hard to attain in real time. 

Ironically, my favorite Mae song is included as a B-side to Singularity. This is the track that Howard Benson couldn’t make sense of (he said it bounced off his skull) — Novocaine. I think this song is representative of a band at the top of their game. Interestingly, it was a song recorded without Howard Benson or the head engineer Mike Plotnikoff. Mark mixed the introductory drum loop from samples of live traffic he recorded while on tour. The bridge included vocals from our friend Kenna. Everything about the song is super cool to me. The most penetrating thing about the song when I listen to it now are the lyrics. I’m not sure what Dave was focusing on…I know it had to do with being in LA. That city is strange and every band has their own experience with it..ours was not the best, but we didn’t hate it. It does strain though. I think, relative to our experience there, the lyrics that inform the most are “see the master strike up his band to play,” and “I’m not the monster that you think I am.” I think that reveals a lot, both cynicism and desperation, which are two words that sum up our Singularity experience pretty well. 

So, why is it my favorite? I think it’s my favorite because of the emotional and entirely subjective complexity the record represents to me. I love the riffs on the record. I love so much about our playing, about our parts. The bass line to “Brink of Disaster,” the keyboard line over the guitar riff on the chorus of “Telescopes,” the vocals on “Reflections.” So much went into the songs, but so little came out. The songs have so many great things going on, but it’s as if those things don’t come out together in a way that translates any essence. It’s perplexing. Also, to end this whole thing, I think the cover art is perfect and fantastic. I found it on a gentleman’s art page, he’s from West Virginia. I can’t remember his name. Capital chose “Sometimes I Can’t Make It Alone” as the single, which they requested we write after the main sessions I believe. It was a horrible choice for the single, entirely non-representative..the video was weird too. The song is ok I think. Who knows?

Image

I read Brett McCraken’s book “Hipster Christianity: When Church and Cool Collide.” I’m not sure why I decided to read it. Maybe it is because the title of the book immediately frustrated me and I felt guilty for such an unfair dismissal. So, because I hated the title, I thought I should read it. I’ll first say this, to juxtapose something so transparently (almost by definition) ephemeral with that which is, considered in its ideal, transcendent, eternal, and thoroughly transformative (i.e. what is hip and Christianity), is suspicious. To pull one down to the arena of the other, or as it may be, to pull one up into the realm of the other, necessarily requires a reduction (especially considering the length of this book) of thought. Granted, McCraken does take time to mention the impossible reconciliation of the two phenomena, but that is only before he then explains how one can, with proper conditions, be the other — how Christianity can be cool. Below, I try to work out my issues with the book.

Concern with what is referred to as “hipsterdom” or the “hipster” is fraught with dead ends because the phenomena is illusive and the label is a cheap classification only employed to self serve. An underlying, and undermining, irony to the whole book is that McCraken indirectly admits to being classified as a hipster — the same phenomena the same types of person he sought to dissect. Perhaps one might believe that it gives the study a higher level of ethos, but it is not self-reflective enough for that. I think that it plagues the study with a bias. Furthermore, McCraken reduces the individuals who fit the mold into categories of 12 types of hipster, and then explains the habits and likes of Christian hipsters. He tells us what they (we?) listen to (Sufjan Stevens), what they read (Soren Kierkegaard, Paul Tillich), where they live, etc. Indeed, McCraken may correctly identify some prevalent external characteristics of the “hipster,” but these cursory observations are at odds with McCraken’s attempt at a somewhat abridged cultural anthropology of the history of hip, which is said to be fueled by something much larger, something sociological and psychological (he even references some Adorno), something much too ubiquitous to then be pigeonholed into a few external identifiers such as music or fashion preference meant characterize a type individual in a unique generation. The characterization and explanation requires more analysis. Perhaps, on the question of the so called “hipster”, McCraken is not totally off on all counts, but his broad sweep and reduced index begs for more detail.

Indeed, he continues his brief summary and narrows the scope as he shifts towards more theological implications. The middle section of the book discusses what he refers to hipster christianity. He writes about a handful of churches which he feels represent salient components of hipster christianity. He discusses the emergent church, the demographics of attendees, the appropriation of technology, the type of structure used for worship, etc. So again, there seems to be a reduction of something we all know to be much more complex. All of that which makes up a church service is reduced to a summary which is biased towards a particular intent, which thus far, I’m not recognizing. The problem, at least for me, is that the broad stroke of his analysis brings into question his motivation in writing the book. The brief summaries potentially betray the idea that the author has a genuine interest in any reconciliation of particular phenomena with Christianity. The descriptions of the churches, of the types of hipsters, are both brief and systematic. If a “hipster” happens to read the book, then he or she is both disingenuously summed up and described to fit a four-cornered mold. If one isn’t a hipster, then he or she learns nothing substantial or substantially accurate about the “hipster.” (If there is indeed anything to learn)

So then I wonder if the problem is me, maybe I’m wanting the book to be something more detailed, but that brings me right back to the book itself — what’s the occasion? I read on and then come upon the theological implications. This is the crux of the book — this answers to the treadmill neutrality perceived thus far, and sure enough this is the nail in the coffin of disappointment. No where else in the book is banality more prevalent than the conclusion. The body of the book leads to the central question — asking if whether that which is perceived (and deemed so by McCraken) to be cool can be reconciled with Christianity. The answer? According to McCraken – no, but then, yes – in that order. Like countless other questions of Christianity, relevance, and proper discourse or narratives in relation to problems of modernity and the condition of “postmodernity,” the answer retreats back into vacuous buzzwords which are removed from urgency by nature of their ambiguity and lack of concreteness. Christians need to be “authentic,” and then they’ll be cool. Jesus himself was a rebel, but the right kind of rebel. We need to be the right kind of rebel! We shouldn’t worry about being cool and worry only about being like Christ, and then we’ll be cool necessarily — “holy non-comformity.” The answer is plagued by platitudes. This is my main problem with the book, indeed, it’s what is bothersome about contemporary modes of Christianity’s varied flirtations with culture in hopes of becoming more relevant in the eyes of the secular world, to potential converts, to those struggling with faith. In a certain sense, because Christ can not be objectively summed up, it liberates the Christian from legalism as well as narrative accountability. This book is an example of the problem — no definitive lines are drawn, therefore there is no real discussion — it is merely safe and unchallenging rhetoric tagged on to the end of a somewhat amusing, yet reductive and all too familiar analysis of kids you love to talk shit on.

In a larger sense, this book exemplifies another larger problem which is not new (yet it may take on new contexts). Richard Neibuhr discusses it in Christ and Culture — “The debate is as confused as it is many-sided…It is helpful to recall that the repeated struggles of Christians with this problem have yielded no single Christian answer, but only a series of typical answers…(emphasis mine).” Particular diagnoses of the problems between Christ and culture, and the subsequent offerings of solutions reflect nothing but mind of he or she who speaks on it (this is not necessarily negative). Soren Kierkegaard claimed that nothing of substantial value (in a spiritual sense) can be communicated directly, thus it brings critical reflection upon that which is communicated with regard to spirituality. There is surely a fine line between healthy discourse and didacticism, but my critical lens is sharpened when, with the release of a book meant to attempt a genuine answer to a timeless problem (in this case an answer which amounts to a non-answer), there is also a website where one can take a quiz to see what type of hipster he or she is. It all becomes part of the non-sense, it all becomes hipster fodder. It reminds me of the popular meme which pictures Fry skeptical about the show Portlandia, “Not sure if this making fun of hipster bullshit, or is hipster bullshit.” Any potential weight this book may have is chipped away little by little when, after McCraken mentions how hipsters love to reference N.T Wright, he then references N.T Wright. Or how Relevant Magazine (to which he is a contributor) is marketed towards christian hipsters, and he admits to being a part of their intended market. This book sits too comfortably as a product of that which is being critically analyzed in relation to Christianity. It exists as an act under the tent of the circus and never escapes. After reading the book, one gets a sense, as with so many other similar books of its nature, that Christianity is simply an mode of self-expression – it’s a type of hipster, not a type of Christianity. Christendom is confused, self-serving, self-righteous, knee-deep phenomena. This book reads like a product of the phenomena, like a product fit for the market of christendom, despite the good will of the author. If I ask myself what I gained from reading the book, I realize that I learned more about hipsters than I did about anything else.

“Man is the measure of all things.”

I’m too sure that there exists something external and above, outside or below. I’m not too sure our expressions ever serve as a conduit for something greater. Everyone’s unforgettable speech is a creative move that invents the greater form. It does not draw from an eternal source or timeless current. One who communicates something grand, and communicates it with grandeur, merely communicates the final draft of a poem, thoroughly edited..taking into account the particular audience and the desire effect. We use things. I’m not saying there is nothing that, given a silent life of focus, would reveal a Truth. What I am suggesting is that “transformation,” in a cheap sense, is an appropriation..a strategic move, the profanity of the sacred. One takes an icon, an untouchable icon, an icon which..when criticized from the “margins”..is quickly defended as a matter of course despite the recently hallowed out center of the sign. These icons are shielded from criticism and used as the mechanism which invites celebration. Confession is used to disarm and manipulate, humility is used to elevate oneself under the guise of a greater awareness, a more expansive scope which suggests a particular hindsight.

If there is a God, it has been marginalized and cleared away to make room for the gods of art which invite some form of reverence that stinks of a cheap pantheism necessarily blessing whatever one decides to express, vetted only by an ambition motivated, cultivated, and calculated according to trends. We, of course, are certainly entitled to enjoy it. It motivates us to join the game. If it motivates us otherwise..if we reflect on it and appropriate it in a way that drives us to the search for Truth (rather than a claim on one’s ephemeral truth), then we do so at our own very real risk. Of course, this is presuming Truth is something one can recognize in and of itself..that austere, laconic, and undesirable truth which most go to every length to avoid.

What is authentic is usually dismissed as obstinate or irrational. Every good thing has been destroyed and replaced with profit motive. We act as often as we are acted upon.

This is very incomplete.

That one sin that God won’t forgive..I think I commit that sin all the time…but I’m not sure that I do it consciously…but perhaps unconsciously…I get tired of mulling over it and ignore it, so I think counts as a conscious rejection all the same..I’m dizzy, and perhaps condemned, but I’m not sure. If anyone asks me what God has given me in my life lately..the first thing that comes to mind is anxiety. 

I don’t know what belief in God looks like. 

I don’t know what belief in God feels like.

I have not found anything. I have yet to locate myself in relation to any triangulation of parameters.

1 Peter 5:7