When they said, Repent, Repent, Repent / I wonder what they meant?
The Future, Leonard Cohen
I have to come clean: my June column, The Spiritual iPod, was stolen from an idea by Rev. Ian Fraser, of St. Columba-By-The-Lake, Pointe Claire, Que. Amongst his other titles and accomplishments, Fraser is also convener of the Record's board, making him my boss's boss. But, that's not why (exclusively) I'm coming clean – like Edgar Allan Poe's pathetic character, I can't take the guilt.
Of course, no guilt necessary. Not really. Its not like it's a unique idea to find secular songs with a spiritual theme. And, it's not like Fraser is the first person ever to come up with it. In Grade 12, I wrote an essay on Pink Floyd's The Wall from a sorta-spiritual perspective, what with all that Roger Waters' angst about the human condition, with a Hamlet-like whine about a missing daddy, waiting for some self-actualization to come through an existence in denial of Buddha's Third Noble Truth, that the end of suffering comes with denying all desire and will-full ignorance.
In Grade 11, I had written a similar essay on The Eagles' Hotel California, the song not the album, which one could argue, though I didn't at the time, is really really about Buddha's Third Noble Truth, or Christ's Beatitudes. And, then there's my life-long Bob Dylan obsession, which is largely about spiritual pursuits … sorta … kinda. (I went to a Seventies High School, all loosey-goosey, really low on academics, high on self-actualization, creating generations of new-Canadians who felt really self-worthy but were left with little usable knowledge and fewer skills; so, no wonder I felt some connection to Waters' character. "Teacher leave them kids alone!")
And, anyways, Lost Pilgrims' – Rev. Stephen Kendall, Rev. Hugh Donnelly, clerk of session Scott Cooper and Mr. David Linderman – eponymous debut last year could be considered a spiritual-iPod collection of songs (except, maybe, for Dylan's You Ain't Goin' Nowhere, which is about something, perhaps even profound, I just don't know what).
Lastly, in my list of lame excuses to rescind my apology to Ian for stealing his idea, is, that, you know, Ian, I mean my boss's boss Rev. Mr. Fraser, is a grown-up and hardly needs my groveling, though I'm sure he's not averse to it. And, yet, despite all of these very good reasons, I feel guilty.
Another good reason: one could make the compelling argument that copywriting of intellectual property is an early sign of the apocalypse, because it corporatizes communality. There is a long and honourable tradition in folk and blues and also in literature, of borrowing, tweaking, stealing, manipulating the work of others. That's why there are several dozen hymns with the same tune; or several tunes for the same hymn, for example. It is a human communal experience; sharing of ideas, passing them on, building them. Ian sent an email to friends and me asking for songs with spiritual themes, and me, despite my early education, being no fool, recognized a good idea and shared it. So, really, what I did was extend the invite to the whole church, not just a select few.
So, really, I don't need to apologize; what I deserve is a thanks.
And, yet, that tell-tale heart.
I'm not one to quote Elton John (except for: "Mars ain't no place to raise your kids…") but it is a sad, sad situation that sorry seems to be the hardest word. Which is really too bad, or as Sir Elton put it, "it's getting more and more absurd," because I was hoping to get several dozen apologies cleared in this month's column. I guess I started with the wrong one that has way too many rationalizations; I should have started with something else. A wrong I couldn't rationalize – I just couldn't find it.
