Life Without Hitch

It’s about 1 o’clock in the morning on Friday, December 16th and I just heard the news that Christopher Hitchens has passed away. As a tenured fan of his work and character I’m genuinely depressed to hear this news, but I can’t say that it comes as a great shock either. Back in June of 2010, Hitchens announced that he had been diagnosed with esophageal cancer; and given his propensity for treating his body more like a brothel than a temple, the outlook seemed pretty grim. While he endured for another year and a half, it was a steady decline. As perhaps one of the most erudite public speakers in generations, he suffered an especially cruel fate when cancer claimed his voice. I can think of nothing more disheartening than having one of your strongest assets stripped away and being forced to press on without it.

Yet, what impression did “Hitch” leave upon the world? Most notable would be his recent outspoken support of the “New Atheism” movement; but he was also wildly successful as an author, journalist, literary critic, orator, humanitarian, and pundit. His was a wit that knew no bounds. Fan and critic alike loved nothing more than whipping him into a trademark frenzy of haughty, sharply worded retorts, with which he would level even his most intellectual opponents.

Personally, one of my favorite events was the public debate, entitled “Is Religion a Force of Good in the World?” held between Hitch and former British Prime Minister, Tony Blair in November of 2010. As he strode out onto the stage, Hitch debuted his newly hairless head as well as a confidence that surprised even me. It is no small feat to accept an invitation to debate the former leader of your nation of birth, but Hitchens didn’t hesitate for one moment before verbally shutting Blair down. Watching the debate was like watching someone’s mind being read. Every time Blair made an argument in religion’s favor, it would somehow play into the logical ambush that Hitch had laid in the early moments of the debate. By the end, not only had Hitchens clearly won, he had convinced Blair that even if his faith hadn’t been misplaced, his argument certainly was. It was a magnificent public defeat of tired principles and dusty logical fallacies.

While it’s easy to get hung up on the brash, visceral element of his spoken word, Hitchens was even more effective with a pen. During his life he worked as a journalist for many prestigious periodicals such as The Atlantic and The Nation, until becoming a Contributing Editor to Vanity Fair in 1992. He authored 18 books, including his best seller “God is Not Great”, and contributed to dozens more as an editor or co-author.

As a humanitarian atheist, Hitch held that the world did not need a supernatural guardian or man-made dogmas in order to do right by one’s fellow man. It was this fervor for the greater good of understanding that often got in the way of Hitchens’ own professional life. On multiple occasions, he was fired from positions because of his unwillingness to bend to his editors’ agendas, and he often landed in hot water with the media for his typically heavy-handed critique of culture. He was a champion of a logic that knew no creed or party and would often cross political and social borders. This was exemplified in his simultaneous criticisms of George W. Bush’s policies and belief that the Iraq War was our nation’s virtuous duty. He would rail against the right, left or any person or party that, in his eyes, was acting on less than ethical principles. He was also never opposed to endorsing figures that he felt were acting in the greater good. His support of Ralph Nader in the 2000 presidential election showed that he was not above the process of politics, just one of its rarest supporters.

In so many ways, what we have lost in the personality of Christopher Hitchens is more than just the man himself. We have lost an irreverent voice of reason, whose place in society is not likely to be matched again in my lifetime. It was a voice that was unburdened by the pressures of politeness; indeed I would guess that Hitch felt there was very little time for anything but frankness in this modern age. He was as important to literary, political and intellectual society as he was entertaining and I will miss his influence greatly.

by Grant Nielsen

The Fantasy Effect

One of the first things I ever knew about John Lennon was that he had just been shot.  I was 10 years old on December 8th 1980, and I heard about it the following morning on the news right before heading out to catch the school bus.  I mentioned it to my mom, and I noticed she was visibly taken aback. I got the sense that something very significant happened, and the chatter prior to school with older students and a few grown-ups seemed to confirm this.

I really didn’t know that much about the Beatles prior. I knew they had been an incredibly popular rock band, and I was starting to really like rock music, but honestly, I was more of a Doors fan.  Their Greatest Hits album- that red & white one- ruled the roost around my way.  The only Beatles album in the house that my parents had was Sgt Peppers, and frankly, I didn’t care much for it. I recall thinking it looked and sounded like a big deal, but it never really said anything, just suggested it. Again, I was 10, a fascinating time to be a Doors literalist.

Within 24 hours of Lennon’s murder, I gleaned a bit more information from the ensuing news coverage.  I had figured out that he was the Beatle with the glasses. He was really into Peace, which made his untimely death a little more odd to me.  I learned he was married to a Japanese woman and they had a child.  I’ve come to realize it is fairly common for an artist’s passing to result in an increased awareness, but this was my first time experiencing this, and it was a biggie.

As fate would have it, John Lennon and his wife, Yoko Ono, had released  an album merely weeks before his death entitled Double Fantasy.  Rumor has it that the initial reaction was not very positive (one review proclaimed the album “a self-obsessed disaster”), but  the events that soon followed provoked a severe reworking of opinion.  Indeed, the album wound up going to the top of the charts and winning a Grammy for Album of the Year.  Decades later,  I’m of the opinion that the murder of John Lennon altered the sound of music in ways wholly unintended.

On Christmas morning of 1980, my mother gave my father a present to unwrap. Of course, based on it’s flat, square shape, it was pretty obvious it was an album. The times being what they were, it was pretty obvious which album.  I think this was the first new album brought into the house by either of my parents in at least a decade. I was fascinated by it. The artwork for Double Fantasy  was a fairly monochromatic affair, even down to the Geffen label pasted onto the vinyl.  Somehow, this lack of color seemed perfect for such a somber winter.

I couldn’t wait to hear this Important Record, but I had to, and adding insult to injury, I couldn’t even be in the same room when it was finally played. My aunt and uncle came by the following night to celebrate the holiday with my parents, my dad and uncle exchanging their traditional gift: identical fifths of scotch. My uncle was a musician, and kept up to date with musical trends (rifling through his collection was soon to be a favored pastime).   We had our Xmas tree and presents in the family room so we all hung out there for most of the evening, but as the grown-ups adjourned to the record-player containing living room, I was sent to bed.

Oh hell no. I knew what was about to happen. After my mom put us all to bed and went back downstairs, I crept from my room to the top of the staircase and set up camp.

To this day, whenever I hear that bell at the beginning of John Lennon’s “(Just Like) Starting Over,” I am taken back to that moment. I remember the lighting in the hallway at the top of the stairs. I remember hearing my family members as they were just out of sight.  Nowadays, I can recognize the style of the song as an homage of sorts to the rock and roll of his own youth,  but  it also takes me back to my own and that illicit thrill that can come with hearing such sounds. Furthermore, damn, that dude had the knack for killer middle eights.

As a whole, Double Fantasy was put together as a concept album. The concept being that John Lennon and Yoko Ono happened to be artists that shared a life together.  Many of the songs are likewise “partnered.” John’s “I’m Losing You” is followed by Yoko’s “I’m Moving On.” He has a song for his “Beautiful Boy,” she sings to her “Beautiful Boys.” He proclaims his love to his “Woman,” she acknowledges that “Every Man Has a Woman Who Loves Him.”

So, the album begins with one of his finest numbers, and Yoko comes to the plate for the second song with “Kiss Kiss Kiss.”

Holy. Shit.

She coos, she shrieks, she pretty much goes batshit insane. To this day, I still can’t tell if the backing musicians were really into it or just having a laugh playing “freaky ” for the paycheck, but Ono seems unfazed and in her own world, offering us only the glimpses she wants us to see.  For a preteen obsessed with the Lizard King, a lady yelling “BROKEN MIRROR WHITE TERROR!” is gold. She ends the song with some “sexy” noises a la Donna Summer, but frankly, it was kinda scary too.

Upstairs, my mind was blown. Downstairs, grownups were howling with laughter. I get it, I mean, she was strange, not for everyone, no doubt about it.  That’s the rub -when you get right down to it, we wouldn’t have been listening to her in the first place if John Lennon had still been alive. I imagine similar scenes happened all across suburbia that winter: because of his death, John Lennon “Trojan horsed” his wife’s weird art into hundreds of thousands of homes that wouldn’t have welcomed it otherwise.

It’s not like I became a fan of hers immediately upon hearing her, but it absolutely planted a seed.  Lennon may or may not have been misguided in his assessment that she had some kinship with the punk and new wave bands of that era, that can be debated, but I do know she made it into my house first, and I’m pretty sure that’s how it went down for quite a few others as well.

How much of a stretch is it from Yoko Ono to Cyndi Lauper? A hell of a lot shorter than it is from Pat Benatar, I’ll tell you that much.  Double Fantasy moved “weird” closer to the center.  A band wanting to show an allegiance to the underground is far more likely to cover one of her songs than one by her husband. If they *did* opt for a Lennon-penned number, odds are they’ll go with one written when she was around.  Heck, even Ono’s choice in eyewear has proven some longstanding merit if Lady Gaga is to be trusted.  Lennon’s influence as a songwriter is undeniable, but Ono’s influential role as a stylist deserves reassessment.

Would John Lennon really have been willing do die to get his wife’s artwork recognized on a larger scale? He probably would have said something along those lines, but that kind of thing never gets put to the test. Except when it does, and that’s when things get weird.

Tommy Salmon
Movement Magazine Athens GA correspondent

OCCUPY

FUCK!

Not as thrilled with the new COLDPLAY as I'd sort of hoped I would be. I will listen to more SUEDE to make up for it. Where are bands of their caliber today? Where is the new SUEDE? Where are the new Smiths? And I don't mean some fucking carbon copy, I mean an equally talented group of musicians making music that will change the world. Someone please fucking shake this shit up. Fuck this GaGa-gay-bar-top-40-vocoded-dime-store-rap shit! It is dumbing down our cattle-like society. Fucking wake up!