THE ZEITGEIST IN SONGS?

Zeitgeist. The literal translation is “time spirit,” but it’s not referring to the “It’s 5:00 somewhere” of some country music singers. It’s the “spirit of the times,” the millieu in which we live and (if we’re working) work. These days, the news is full—finally, some say—of news of the “Occupy Wall Street” movement and its clones; somebody—a Marine, in fact—was critically injured in a police attack on “Occupy Oakland” in California; and except for the platitudes emanating from the highest levels in Washington, D.C., the economic news is universally bad. Two wars that have yet to stop, jobs that keep disappearing, foreclosures that keep multiplying, inflation that won’t quit... It goes on.

I was asked, “Do you make use of the zeitgeist in your musical efforts?” I wouldn’t phrase it that way. The zeitgeist affects what I write. And no, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We are, like it or not, products of the times we live in. We are what we do (or don’t do). Being unemployed for most of three years, living in reduced (and definitely more worrisome) circumstances, hunting for work in a “we could never hire old white guys” environment, and watching consistent failure impact my self-worth—and being constantly aware that not only am I not alone, I have a lot of company—yes, it affects what I write. A lot of what I’ve penned lately has had a Failed Economy “tinge,” if not a Failed Economy focus. I don’t mind because I am writing to (or for) an audience that I know is either in the same boat I am, or worried that they will be. It’s a common frame of reference, which is important for communication.

Of course I will be different—that’s one of Wrabek’s Rules. I do not preach—I leave that to others. Preaching turns me off, and I assume it does the same to others. I will not be serious (for the most part)—people need to laugh more than they need to cry, these days. And I will be timeless. I don’t always achieve that, but some of the stuff I wrote as much as ten years ago is still relevant, and still being requested, so I sometimes make it.

Does the zeitgeist show up in the work of others? Maybe not as much, or as well done, as I’d like. “Commercial” country music, form and content dictated by Powers That Be on some distant planet, still seems fixated on drinking, and girls, and how wonderful it is to live in the country (which many of the artists may not actually do)—all remote from and divorced from the reality of most folks’ everyday lives. Maybe it’s no wonder people aren’t listening.

I do see the zeitgeist coloring some other writers’ material—Ray Stevens comes immediately to mind, but a lot of his recent material is preachy, too, and I don’t cotton well to preachy stuff. There seems to be more religious music around these days—not surprising, considering people’s search for some kind of answers and need to focus on something stable; that same search and need probably drives the “end times is a-comin’” talk I hear more of these days. A lot of that religious and “end times” stuff is preachy, too, and I shy away from preachiness myself. If anything, I’ll poke fun at ‘em—and I suppose that, too, is an instance of exercising the zeitgeist.

I heard there was a Scandinavian songwriter who’d begun writing a “song cycle.” That’s a pre-medieval format in which each song is a chapter, as it were, in the whole. Interesting idea, but I couldn’t do that without violating another of Wrabek’s Rules, the one that insists I must express a complete thought, with no loose ends, in 3-1/2 to 5 minutes. On the other hand, I keep thinking of that country music opera I’d like to write (there are no country music operas that I know of, and I like breaking new ground)—something on the order of a song cycle might work well for that. Of course, each one of my songs would have to be different—that’s another one of the Rules. And I try to play by the Rules, even if they are my Rules.

I get to help judge a high-school speech tournament Saturday—something I haven’t done in a good two years—and on Sunday, we’re having the organizing meeting for the Marimba Band. Sometimes—maybe a lot of the time—the only way you get variety in your life is to create it yourself.

Joe