Surprising Functions of (Synth)Waves

A recent Toastmasters meeting and subsequent conversation has prompted me to reflect upon how much of what I know is based on fact and how much on opinion, particularly when it comes to people.

I've been listening to a style of music called synthwave for a few months now - it is a genre I encountered at the pre-show for the Muse Simulation Theory tour back in early 2019. Being a fan of electronica and soundtrack-inspired atmospheric soundscapes, it made sense that it would be something I'd be into, and perhaps a bit surprising that it took me so long to stumble across it.

Wanting to learn more about it, I pre-ordered a documentary about it called Rise of the Synths (which, delightfully, is available on VHS in addition to DVD and BluRay...) and Glory watched it with me back in late January. There are a ton of interviews with synthwave musicians of varying fame and influence, and the documentary actually starts in the current day before moving back in time, ending up not just in the 80s but looking (too briefly in my opinion) at the pioneers of synthesizer music like Jean Michel Jarre and Tangerine Dream. Cult film director John Carpenter's narration is very well done, and highly appropriate, given how influential his soundtracks have been on the style. 

Although a couple of producers in Rise of the Synths have predicted that synthwave could or will become a major influence on the music scene, there is a recognition that the successful artists enjoy a peculiar, low-key type of fame and celebrity, although it has been growing significantly since around 2011 (and the release of the film Drive, surprisingly enough).

Earlier this month, I had been struggling to come up with a speech for my Toastmasters program (still meeting over Microsoft Teams every other Thursday at lunch!) and decided that since hardly anyone was aware of this music, it could make a decent topic. I included references to my experience at the Muse concert, the documentary and a few other tidbits, and called my speech, "What the Heck is a Synthwave?" I was pretty happy with my presentation overall, and it seemed to be well received.

Speeches get a brief verbal evaluation in the same meeting they are presented in, so I was astonished when my evaluator began by saying, "This is weird - I listen to a fair amount of synthwave myself - in fact, it is probably the style of music I listen to the most right now..." and then went on to critique my speech very favourably, but with a couple things I can look at improving next time around.

In a regular meeting there is a paper ballot we can fill out with our favourite speeches as well as feedback for the other speakers, presenters and evaluators. For online meetings, we now use an MS Form to accomplish the same thing, and one of the responses I received said "Wow, I saw Muse in Edmonton at Red's back in the day, and also travelled to Vancouver to see a synthwave band called Carpenter Brut."

Unbelievable - in a meeting of eight people, three of us were fans of what I had thought to be an impossibly niche musical genre! In fact, I had only heard about Carpenter Brut from a colleague who I knew at least as eclectic taste in music as I did.

When I told him about it, he laughed in amazement, the same way I had, and we both marveled at the statistical improbability of it all.

"You know," he said, "you reach a certain age and some of your impressions of the world get a little more fixed. And you work in a corporate environment dealing with financial services, and you figure that the majority of the people around you are maybe mostly a bunch of boring stuffed shirts. But you've just disproven that!"

I believe he is right, and that there is a lesson to be had here -it is easy and human to think of ourselves as the stars of the show, and maybe even as the most interesting castmembers, but who knows what we might learn about the other people onstage if we paid a bit more attention, or, heaven forbid, asked them?

Footnote: The band Gunship released their cover of The Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" as a lyric video (embedded above), and included this note:

We wanted to do something a little different this year and so here’s our cover of @TheBeatles’s ‘Eleanor Rigby’. What a year… To anyone out there struggling with isolation and loneliness, this one’s for you. 

The song ‘Eleanor Rigby’ really is a sad and extremely poignant song, dealing with issues of disillusionment, loneliness, and isolation in society. ‘Look at all the lonely people' - is a lyric that has stuck with us forever. We wondered about a modern day Eleanor Rigby, and what it would be like if a character like her was alive today and experiencing 2020. We felt some of the song’s themes dovetailed closely with the negative revelations surrounding the mass adoption of social media, phone addiction and the proliferation of the ‘pseudo-connections’ these platforms provide. The artwork for our cover version shows a young ‘Eleanor Rigby’, illuminated by her device, dependent on it, manipulated by it, and totally in the clutches of addiction to it. ‘Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door’ - this facade or metaphorical mask that she puts on is now perhaps equivalent to today’s face modifying filters. 

The notion of ‘keeping up appearances’ despite problems / unhappiness is problematic. The pandemic and resulting lockdowns have of course also given many of us a strong experience of loneliness in the real world. We have been trying to deal with our personal experience of this by being creative, which has been a much needed port in the storm. We’ve alway found music to be a great comfort and we hope you guys do too. HUGE love to all you guys. We’re working hard to finish up album 3!

 

Frosty Fellowship in the Pandemic Age

I did something dumb yesterday, and I couldn't be happier about it.

Well, not that dumb, and all reasonable precautions were taken, but spending nine hours in an unheated garage in an Edmonton February was nothing I had planned on doing even a week ago. 

But last week I had read that St. Albert was extending permissions for residents of that city to use firepits on their driveways, and we were coming off almost two weeks of -20 C weather, and not having had in-person social contact with anyone outside the family since...November. The recent change in provincial guidelines now permitted outdoor social gatherings of up to ten people, although it had been too bitterly cold for most people to take advantage of it. Still, it was starting to feel like a fortunate confluence of events and conditions.

I asked the local lads, the ones I could count on for a get-together at least one or two times a month in the pre-pandemic days (and who I still saw online for D&D every other week), how they might feel about coming and hanging out in my unheated garage on Saturday afternoon, which was actually forecast to be above freezing.

And they felt pretty good about it - emphatically so, in fact.

So on Saturday morning, I moved the cars out onto the driveway, carried up the big space heater from the basement, and made a makeshift table out of a 4' x 4' gaming table and two trash cans. I used my convertible ladder and some 1x6s to improvise a sideboard and put some cups and a thermal carafe of hot buttered apple rum on it. Then I assembled an "Emergency Relief Station" out of a 5-gallon pail, some wood chips and plastic bags, and tacked a tarp up around it for a modicum of privacy. Lastly, I deployed a cooler with an assortment of beverages, piled 15-20 small bags of chips on the table, unpacked my comfiest camp chair and waited for my friends to arrive.

Within an hour, everyone was on-site all dressed for the weather, and tremendously grateful to see each other for the first time in a long time.

I'd had a number of games and diversions on standby if we needed them, but of course we didn't. We caught up on each other's lives a bit and discussed the fact that all but one of our group would be in the first have of scheduled vaccinations (fingers crossed!) which gives us hope for G&G XV this fall.

Look, I am as big a fan of online communication as the next fellow, and it beats no contact at all by a long, long chalk, but there is something different about being in person. The ebbs and flows of conversations are more natural, interruptions are less awkward, you can read expressions and body language better, and no one is distracted by another screen (well, unless they are checking a beer in on Untappd).

More importantly, you can still interact, even while physically distancing - suggesting the next beverage, filling someone's cup, tossing them a trick-or-treater-sized bag of Doritos, whatever - these tiny acknowledgements that you are sharing the same space. Who knew such a feeling would be taken for granted in such a way, or lamented in its absence?

We drank and laughed and snacked our way through the afternoon when Scott and Jeff had to go. Mike and Pete and I pulled our chairs a little closer to the propane firepit by the garage door (the space heater never seemed to accomplish that much), ordered some dinner and chatted some more. Audrey joined us for a bit as well, and that was lovely too.

Having friends that you can have heartfelt discussions with about everything from dealing with children to saying a final goodbye to a parent is a real godsend. It reminded me of when we moved into our house 15 years ago this month, and this crew and their brothers and friends unloaded 2.7 giant U-Hauls of our stuff in a single afternoon. Some spectator marvelled at the site, and said to Audrey, "To have such friends as these - such a blessing!" And she was right.

I was tired, a bit emotional and listing slightly to port when I said goodnight to my chums. I took down the tarp and table so that Audrey could bring the vehicles back in (God bless 'er), and carried the space heater back downstairs.

The next day the girls asked me how the get-together had gone, and I told them it was even better than I expected. I told them about some of the laughs, and confided that some of our moments and concerns had been a bit more maudlin, but how good it was to be able to share those times as well.

"You really have some awesome friends, Dad," Glory said. And I agreed.

After all, you wouldn't want to do something as dumb as sitting outside in temperatures barely above freezing, drinking and b.s.ing for nine hours with just anybody, would you?

Stickin' With It

The downstairs fridge started making a helluva racket a couple three weeks ago, and it only cost me $90 for a service tech to come out and confirm my suspicions: the compressor was shot, and replacing it would cost nearly as much as replacing the refrigerator.

This fridge and the two that preceded it were all either refurbished or hand-me-down jobs, the first coming alongside a stove given to us by a friend of a friend. Three fridges in 12 years seems like an excessive rate of turnover to me, so I thought perhaps it was time to explore getting a new one instead.

Luckily, the day I started looking was the last day of a big sale at venerable furniture and appliance retailer The Brick, and soon enough I had arranged for a shiny new fridge to be delivered in a week's time. Best of all, they would take the old fridge out and see to its disposal as well.

In the interim I set out trying to recover as many of the stickers from the fridge as I could. One of my friends noted that it hadn't been that long since I had undertaken a similar exercise, and suggested that perhaps I would be better off switching to magnets or perhaps mounting some of my favourite decals on a magnetized backing instead.

This is an impeccably reasonable suggestion to make, and yet, I continue to resist it. I thought at first it might be laziness, but on the other hand, I was already willing to spend 1-2 hours peeling stickers off a refrigerator with a razor blade and lightly affixing them to sheets of wax paper.

No, the truth of it is that if I were to magnetize them, then they would stop being stickers. 

You attach a sticker to something knowing it to be a temporary sort of permanence for the most part. Eventually the sticker will fade or wear away or get torn, or the item attached to it will break down or become obsolete in some fashion.

Why fight this transitory nature by painstakingly removing stickers with little to no sentimental value and then reattaching them to a brand new fridge? For no better reason than the fact that you can, really.

And in this case I managed to salvage a high percentage of stickers from the old fridge, probably aided by the pebbly finish. Conversely, the smooth sides of the new fridge helped them to adhere firmly without any additional adhesive.

I also managed to executed a smidgen of planning for the layout this time around, putting smaller stickers (and many magnets, to be fair) or those requiring reading closer to eye-level, and putting larger, more iconic ones on the lower door instead.

I'm not sure what these stickers might suggest about me to a third party, but if they came away thinking it is someone nerdy with a strong interest in breweries and pop culture, in addition to period aviation and space exploration, and who is strongly driven by whimsy, well, I suppose they wouldn't be too far off, would they?

Now I just hope that I am able to have friends over to pull a beer or soda from the new fridge while all the stickers are still intact!

For comparison's sake, here is the old fridge:

Pulpitations: "The Sound of Authority"

My chance to preach again came only three months after our sixth Affirmiversary service back in October. The lectionary reading was "The Man With an UInclean Spirit" from Mark 1:21-28).

The Man with an Unclean Spirit
They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

As has been mentioned previously (and innumerably), I often struggle to reconcile tales of miracles and magic to the world I live in, and discerning the ancient wisdom that I am sure must be in such lessons is not always easy.

But, strangely enough, thanks to political unrest in a neighbouring country, I felt like I had a clearer path this time around, focusing on dialogue and direct action, and... well, I suppose I could just let you read it for yourself, couldn't I? (You can also watch it on video at the SAUC Vimeo channel here, but fair warning: the mask makes me lisp a little and I was never sure where the camera was, so I look lost most of the time.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Today’s gospel lesson deals with authority, and once again I am astonished and humbled by not only the relevance of today’s Gospel reading but also its timeliness and synchronicity.

You see, being an amateur sermonologist, it sometimes takes me a while to tease out the focus of my reflection, so I started outlining this one early in the month, around the sixth of January. You probably haven’t forgotten, but just for clarity I will state for the record that January 6 was the day in the U.S. that a violent mob, at the urging of their own president, overpowered police and stormed their own country’s capitol building hoping to overturn the results of a free and fair election. Or worse.

And here in Canada, just over a week ago, our nation’s own Governor-General resigned from her position on the heels of a report confirming the accusation of toxicity in the workplace she was responsible for.

Even though the scales between these two examples are vastly different, both of them amply illustrate how devastating the results can be when authority is misused, Mark’s story of the man with an unclean spirit is an example of how authority is meant to be used - not to push down but to lift up.

On the surface, this story appears to be a simple case of Jesus producing his credentials; establishing his bona fides, as it were. There he is, teaching in the synagogue - and when we say teaching, we mean teaching - not just reading, not reciting, like the scribes or an amateur sermonologist might. Not trotting out time-worn lessons and hoping the listeners remember the important bits, but providing real insight as someone with a deep and meaningful connection to the source material.

Where was I? Oh right - so there was Jesus, teaching in the synagogue, and people are really getting it, when out of nowhere this loudmouth rolls up and starts making a ruckus! Yelling and carrying on, calling the rabbi by name, saying he knows him but then asking if Jesus has come to destroy them. Crazy!

But even crazier, to the spectators at least, is Jesus’ response. He only says seven words in this story: “Be silent and come out of him!”

And darned if that doesn’t work.

The unclean spirit doesn’t leave easily, and makes an even bigger scene on the exit than on the entrance, thrashing on the ground and wailing and all like a toddler tantrum in a fancy store. But it leaves, and everyone is astonished. The spectators again draw attention to the authority that Jesus clearly has. They express amazement at how even unclean spirits obey this teacher from Nazareth, this carpenter’s son, and notably, they do not keep it to themselves.

As a result of this, word of Jesus and his feats and, presumably, his authority, spreads “throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.” Unaided by radio, television, or social media, Jesus becomes famous.

Now, in most stories and for most people, defeating an unclean spirit and getting famous for it would rank as a pretty happy ending, right?

So why is it that we have four or five other accounts in Mark’s Gospel where Jesus tells his followers not to reveal who he is? To keep his legitimate identity on the sly? Was Jesus the very first superhero with a secret identity?

There are a few possible explanations as to why Jesus is reluctant to take credit or win fame later in Mark. It may have had to do with timing, as there was much he needed to do before returning to Jerusalem in order to fulfill prophecy and meet his fate. There were a lot of moving parts in play here, and obviously no opportunity for a do-over if things went off the rails. Fame could have meant more opposition from both the Romans and the religious establishment of the day, and even more delays and obstructions.

It could have been that he did not want to be perceived as someone desiring celebrity or fame or even infamy. The holy lands at this time were practically teeming with wanna-be prophets, suspicious saviours and even misguided, malicious messiahs. Who would want to be associated with such cure hucksters or snake oil salesmen?

The most intriguing notion to me is that Jesus came to help and to heal and to set an undying example as a servant of God, and the manner in which that work is accomplished and even the person who does it is not nearly as important.

Is the key message in this story that God wants his children to be happy, and people can help make that happen on his behalf? That the authority here is not so much bestowed but accepted as a responsibility? And as followers of Christ, don’t we have an obligation to continue that work?

“But Stephen,” I hear you say, even though you aren’t here in the sanctuary with me, “how am I, an accountant from St. Albert, a dental hygienist from Edmonton, a restaurant owner from Morinville, supposed to forcibly remove unclean spirits? Does the bible contain any specific instruction as to the best way to cast out demons? Is it true you offer a six-part online symposium on practical exorcism and spiritual combat techniques?”

That last part is not only patently and demonstrably untrue, but also depicts something completely unneeded for the task at hand. Look, the truth of the matter is that it is all about picking your fights.

Let’s consider the situation Jesus was in: accosted by an unquiet, unsettled man, coherent enough to call him by name but disturbed enough to accuse the Son of Man of coming to destroy them. Whether this man was possessed by some infernal entity, or was mentally ill at a time and place where this could not be diagnosed, or if he was simply struggling with the same inner demons that many of us face every day is immaterial.

For my part, when I hear the words “unclean spirit,” my mind does not immediately reach for a supernatural explanation like a ghost or a demon (which is maybe a bit surprising, given the extraordinary amount of fantasy and horror stories I have been exposed to over the years). Just like the way that the enemies spoken of in the psalms don’t have to be literal soldiers, my focus on stories containing devils or miracles isn’t so much “did this really happen?” but rather, “What does this really mean?”

No, when I hear “unclean spirit” my immediate thought is that what Jesus has encountered in the synagogue is a contaminated soul. And in many ways, this is much more frightening, because I know very few people who would claim to have witnessed a demonic possession, but I know that most of us, perhaps all of us, have probably encountered a contaminated soul.

I wish more of you were here in the sanctuary so I could say “can I get an amen?”

And here at last do we reach what I think is most important: how does Jesus deal with the problem? A reasonable person might call the temple guard - an unreasonable one might encourage the crowd to sort it out for him, maybe by beating him up. But Jesus resolves the issues with words alone, talking directly to the problem, and with authority. Seven words, at least in our language: “Be silent, and come out of him!”

I don’t want to pretend that this is a dialogue, but I really think it is important to note that Jesus confronts the issue, this unclean spirit, directly. In an age where we are free to pick and choose the sources of our information, at a time where truth is not perhaps as universally accepted as we imagine it once was, where national leaders present the world with “alternative facts”, a world where people on both sides of common ideological divides are accused of limiting their discourse to echo chambers and reflective bubbles, Jesus addresses his opposition openly, honestly and personally.

Jesus sees a man who is not only disruptive but unwell, and instead of ignoring him, he confronts the issue that is plaguing him. I believe his authority is derived not only from God, but because he is acting in service of the truth. The unclean spirit has no business corrupting that man, and needs to go.

In Psalm 111 we hear that “the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom.” This is sometimes taken to mean “a wise person should recognize and dread God’s vigilance and punishment,” but once again I hear something different. Not to be afraid but that we should be in awe of the love and truth that God represents. Awe and amazement, just like the spectators in the synagogue felt after Jesus commanded the unclean spirit.

So what did I mean earlier with my talk about accepting responsibility for authority and picking your fights? Let me be very clear here, in saying that we should not jeopardize our own safety or sanity or that of our families or friends by intervening into situations we are clearly not equipped for! If it is a bank robbery, call the police. If it is a monster, I dunno, call Ghostbusters.

But when we encounter the unclean spirits or contaminated souls that are all too prevalent in the time and place we live in, whether it is on a bus, in a crowd, in the workplace or even in our own homes, ask yourself if this is the moment to reach out. And maybe it isn’t! And that is okay.

But don’t ignore it. Don’t do the easy thing and turn away. Don’t pretend you never saw it. Don’t just make believe like it is somebody else’s problem. If you can’t deal with it in the moment, find someone who can. If the police are needed, get them in there. If the situation calls for a social worker, you can get one of them too. If you don’t have food or funds on you for a hungry person, make sure you are giving regularly to the food bank. If a co-worker says something racist or homophobic, call them out on it. When a friend tells you they’re troubled, find a way to reach out to them - it is possible, even during a lockdown. More than possible, it is a necessity. When a family member asks “honestly, why are people so afraid of fascism anyways?” don’t laugh it off or turn your back, but engage them, talk with them -and not at, with - because that is the only way things can truly change - one mind at a time.

Your authority, like that of Jesus, is derived from the very will of God: to help, to heal, to make a better world, all in accordance with God’s wishes for us. It is not an authority of dominance, nor meant to help us hold ourselves above others - no matter what ex-presidents or former Governors-General might say. This authority is not intended to bring us fame or renown. It is an unassailable authority borne out of truth and love.

Jesus presents us with a model of bravery, compassion and humility, and if we follow his example, then, like the psalm says, we will truly be grounded in justice and truth, standing fast forever and ever, in the company of the upright.

Amen.