Cold – winter – west.Last year, the first year back at Dry Creek, cold was a novelty I
attacked with relish.Bringing in
firewood, plowing, shoveling, feeding chickens—the deeper the snow, the lower
the thermometer, the more I loved it.This winter it has been wearing me down along with my work.That, unfortunately, is how we humans are—always
looking for a way out, always looking for a way to avoid the labor of the moment.California dreaming.And once we’rethere, California becomes a reality.
There is an ache that is born deep in us.The feeling, no matter where we are, we don’t
quite belong.That is the magic sadness
that drives literature.All songs, all
poems, all stories, one way or another, are the search for home--or just as often, for paradise,
for Eden.
The need to be still haunts us all, alludes us all, drives
us on—and yet we still don’t find what we are looking for.
Out the car window, the Tushar Mountains are spectacularly
rugged, spectacularly white.When I
lived in the city I longed for such sights.God grand and right in your face with his over-the-top creation.I ached to communicate once again with river
stone and brittle wood.
Occasionally, I am still blissfully in awe of grandeur.I love returning from work only to startle
herds of deer and flocks of turkey from the lane to the house.
And yet just as often I return home from work as the last
sun slants across Main Street of our small town and there will be a sort of
sadness sink deep inside me.Damn, where
is everybody?Wouldn’t it be nice if there
were a Denny’s?Or just a ma & pa
joint with a great big plate glass window looking out on Main?Someplace warm other than home to read a book
and listen to clinking dishes and conversation.
But there really isn’t.There’s fast food out at the freeway and an overpriced restaurant at the
motel.No town center.Not anymore.Just houses, churches and farms, and beyond that the wild.
But I know if I ever have to move somewhere I will be just
as lonely for here.Perhaps that is our
life’s work—to realize paradise is not a place, but a state of mind, not an
escape but the labor of turning wherever you are into its own unique kind of
paradise, whether in Alaska or the Bronx.
Labor, as the work is never done.The real work is not in what we do it, but
how we do it—our connection to God and other people.
Late afternoon, maybe February, sunlight intense on the cliffs above Lukachukai. I top the pass between Chinle and Tsaile, the pinion valley below green-gold. Patches of snow littered with pinion needles hide in the shadows as I race by this high, dry forest. I'm listening to a Killers CD that I bought as a Christmas present for Marci. Neither of us has really listened to it, but she likes the single, "Mr. Brightside".
Same day--just a few minutes later, in my driveway: I'm in the van and I won't get out. This song is different. There's something so open, so vulnerable, so rebellious. The lead-singer keeps repeating...
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
Lyrics don't seem special, and yet something feels familiar. I replay it, listen closer to the words.
When there's nowhere else to run Is there room for one more son One more son If you can hold on If you can hold on, hold on I want to stand up, I want to let go You know, you know - no you don't, you don't I want to shine on in the hearts of men I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand
Still, nothing, at least not in the lyrics, that seems would grab me. But something does. Especially during the refrain,
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
Then, strangely hymn-lines come to mind--
Put your shoulder to the wheel; push along, Do your duty with a heart full of song, We all have work; let no one shirk. Put your shoulder to the wheel.
and...
Onward, Christian soldiers! Marching as to war, With the cross of Jesus Going on before.
What the heck, this is a retro-punk group, with chunks of the Cure, the Fixx, U2, and the Police buried not-so-subtly below the main text of the melody. Why on earth are Mormon hymns coming to mind?
So, I replay it, and replay it. Of course, I don't get why.
Yeah, you know you got to help me out Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner You know you got to help me out You're gonna bring yourself down You're gonna bring yourself down Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down Over and again, last call for sin While everyone's lost, the battle is won With all these things that I've done All these things that I've done If you can hold on If you can hold on
Fast-forward a few months, and we're at the house in Page (I think), visiting Marci's parents. We're all around the computer and Tyler tells us Brandon Flowers, the lead singer of the Killers, is a Mormon. I don't believe him. How can I with the lyrics of "Mr. Brightside"? His uncle Shane backs him up.
"They say Alice Cooper grew up a Mormon," I protest. "And that's false. Why believe this?"
Later, I do some research. Sure enough Brandon Flowers grew up in Nephi, Utah, and is Mormon. The Killers are based in Las Vegas where Flowers moved as a teen. Early on the band was asked to relocate in LA, but Flowers refused to leave his adopted home.
Flowers, like myself, then, grew up in two very different worlds. Small town Utah and Vegas. I grew up in small town Utah and Reno.
With some context, I think I now understand "All These Things I've done." "I got soul, but I'm not a soldier / I got soul, but I'm not a soldier" is Brandon letting his parents know that although he feels the spirit of the law, he can't live it. He's got soul (he feels the spirit), but he's not a soldier (he's not going to be a typical Mormon, not part of the united army of belief). In other words, he's leaving the flock.
Although many other themes, like Vegas, influence Flowers songwriting, his Mormon upbringing continues to seep through. He's caught between two worlds, Utah and Nevada--neighboring states, worlds apart culturally, although both were settled early on by Mormons. Like Flowers, I've been caught in a crossfire between heaven and hell. And I think, like Flowers, I had a hard time deciding which was hell--small town Mormon Utah or the bright light, big Sodom and Gomorrah. And of course, I also couldn't decide which was heaven. Even though "Crossfire" is clearly about typical struggles in marriage, it extends, I think, to Flowers wavering between his religious upbringing and his new found freedom in the ways of the world. That probably is also a source of the marriage tension discussed in the song.
"Human" written earlier than "Crossfire" directly demonstrates his mixed feelings about religion. He both wants to be part of it, and at the same time break away from it:
And sometimes I get nervous When I see an open door Close your eyes Clear your heart... Cut the cord
The doors to the world have opened for him; he's got the chance to "cut the cord." But he can't. Why?
And I'm on my knees Looking for the answer Are we human? Or are we dancers?
Most lyric sites record the lyrics this way, and they work. But if you listen to the song, Flowers never puts an "s" at the end. So, some sites print the lyrics this way--
And I'm on my knees Looking for the answer Are we human? Or are we dancer?
--which are not only grammatically incorrect, but don't have any clear meaning. Here's what I think Flowers is singing:
And I'm on my knees Looking for the answer Are we human? Or are we denser?
In other words, he's on his knees, pleading with the Lord for an answer to his question, which is, "Are we only human (simply a product of evolution) or are we denser? (in other words, do we carry a spirit within us and have a divine purpose?)
This time, even after his prayer, Flowers decides to cut the chord:
And so long to devotion You taught me everything I know Wave goodbye Wish me well.. You've gotta let me go
It sounds like he's leaving organized religion behind him. However, he's not angry; he knows his religious upbringing has made him who he is: "You taught me everything I know." But he wants to be free between the crossfire of heaven and hell, so this time he chooses to leave.
For much of my life I felt the same: Mormonism made me who I am, and it was good, but I want more. I incorrectly believed the church limited my artistic, intellectual and spiritual growth. I now know it's quite the opposite: I can only achieve my artistic, intellectual and spiritual potential through the church. It's who I am.
Based on a recent interview, it sounds as if Flowers has come to the same personal realization. But, of course, testimony is a day to day affair, so he could again decide to cut the chord. Whether he does or not, Mormonism will always be an influence on the Killers. Mormonism is now a major world religion, and as such, more and more artists, writers and musicians will bring that herritage with them to the arts community. It is time for critics to take Mormonism seriously as an influence on both American and world culture.
