Battle Hymns

Music is a large part of my life. Cliche, yes, but true: somewhere out there, there is a genre, a band, and a song which reflect every aspect of my personality. From love to work to politics, the sounctrack to my life would be eccletic, eccentric, and electrifying.

I especially have a special place in my heart for folk music of a socially and politically charged nature. Organizing songs, protest songs, jaded commentary, revolutionary themes, and ballads of wrongs commited against humanity; all of these stimulate the fighting spirit that drives my heart. They keep me going, campaigning, pushing for a better future for Darrion and the children I one day hope to have.

Good folk music, just like any music, can be a double-edged sword. It can motivate people to great works of justice and peace, but can also incite people to violence and bigotry. You have to be careful in digesting the message of an inflammatory work of art so as not to lose control and do something irrational. Like with anything, you need to have a mental filter when listening. Allow the music to foster contemplation, not rash actions.

I guess the whole point of this post is that the fading of good folk music from public perception saddens me. In a time when folk would serve us best, instead we get rap songs about money and hoes, emocore music about how dad sucks, and crappy pop bands who talk about shallow lust and beauty. Not that those things can't also be good, but I find the general apathy in the average American to so many things to be disturbing. Doesn't it bother people that, in a supposed free market economy, the worker/consumer has no real power to negociate prices or wages, because there's always someone else willing to demean themselves by working for less? Or that our rights to speech, to self-government, and to free association are being threatened by corporate lobbyists, political dynasties, and a sense of superiority our business-class has over the average American?


I guess, deep down, I'm still just the jaded little revolutionary that my mother swore I would grow out of when I got older. But then again, what has my mother ever really understood about me? As much as I love her, and as much as it sometimes worries me, I am my father's son, and we understand one another as far as we care to reveal ourselves to each other. Two of the key things that have always united my father and I, though, is our ecclectic love for music and our abhorrence of injustice and inequity.

My father is my inspiration, even though we may differ in method and even opinions. It was because of him that I first started looking into the music of my parents generation, and the folk music that was popular at the time. It was something we could share and enjoy together, a rare thing for us. My aunt and uncle furthered this process, and my musical exposure and education as a child was varied and helped formulate my being.

My point here, really, is to wax philosophical on my love of music, via a long and twisted road. And, as I suck at closing a stream of consciousness post, I wish to say a few words: tweak, oddment, and blubber. Thank you.

Battle Hymns, by The Nightwatchman (Tom Morello)
Battle hymns for the broken
Battle hymns for the misled
Battle hymns for the wretched
The forgotten and the dead
Battle hymns of redemption
Of solidarity and pride
Battle hymns we will be singing
At the turning of the tide

Can you explain to the mothers
And the fathers of those
Who come riding home in coffins
In their military clothes
Shiny medals pinned
To their dead teenage chests
While the trumpets blare
And you lie your best
So ask all you want
From the dusk til the dawn
The answer's still no
Cause brother I'm gone

Battle hymns for the broken
Battle hymns for the misled
Battle hymns for the wretched
The forgotten and the dead
Battle hymns of redemption
Of solidarity and pride
Battle hymns we will be singing
At the turning of the tide

Can you explain away the sleight of hand
And the criminality
Of spending souls for oil
Well in the mirror I can see
I am the path that leads down
I am a dark and bloody hall
I'm the reaper, executioner
Hangman, judge, and the law
So tie a yellow ribbon
Round the oak tree on the lawn
But the cavalry's not comin'
Cause brother they're gone

Battle hymns for the broken
Battle hymns for the misled
Battle hymns for the wretched
The forgotten and the dead
Battle hymns of redemption
Of solidarity and pride
Battle hymns we will be singing
At the turning of the tide

So I'm sharpening my shovel
I'm firing the kiln
I'm blind and I am purposeful
A martyr on the hill
The dream you might be dreaming
Might be someone else's dream tonight
I'm the whisperer of misgivings
I'm the fading tail light
I'm the call for retribution
From the back of the smoke filled hall
I'm the vow of bitterness
I'm the poison in the well
I've a photographic memory
Of the deeds I will avenge
I'm the cold in the river hollow
I've a hatpin, I've a plan
I don't care of cause or consequence
Head shaved and body lean
I'm the go-getter, the score settler
I'm the shadow on the green
There's a flock of blackbirds flying
Nearly ten thousand strong
Who set off this morning
And brother they're gone

Battle hymns for the broken
Battle hymns for the misled
Battle hymns for the wretched
The forgotten, for the dead
Battle hymns of redemption
Of solidarity and pride
Battle hymns we will be singing
At the turning of the tide