Taking Justin Seriously
Last summer, I came across an article about the then-to-be released album “Futuresex/Lovesounds.” In it, Justin Timberlake discusses how, in making the album, he wanted to really push the boundaries of pop music and bring something new. And since being released, Justin Timberlake’s “Futuresex/Lovesounds” has been at the top of the charts with almost continuous airplay on the radio: the former front man for the boy band Nsync has created a classic.
We all can remember (or try to forget) the time of sex scandals and tepid political discourse, the time of complacency and indifference, that decade of non-events: the nineties — the brief period of Pax Americana following the Cold War. Those were the days, when people simply didn’t care, and what seemed to have any value or importance lied in the past. This inglorious end of the 20th century when any sort of cultural energy had seemed to have reached its peak in the fields of Woodstock, NY in the summer of 1969, and ever since had gradually dissipated, when the post-post modernist this and thats decided that everything had been said and done and quietly receded into the background. This was the time of America’s greatest musical contribution: the boy band — yes, that toxic mix of corporate marketing, desire for empty spectacle, and unoriginal musical composition divorced from the least bit of passion or interest. It was like music had scrapped the barrel but didn’t realize it because we either were too busy making money off it, or too busy making fun of it. But really what would the music have been otherwise? For years pop had been just the artificial creations of a greedy industry (since when can art have anything to do with an industry). Any remaining elements of that genuine age of good music had finally degenerated into an orgy of extravagant concerts, bizarre videos, and worthless, forgettable so-called music. And it is with great gratitude and appreciation that we were allowed to say to this time: “Bye, Bye, Bye.”Admittedly, this age isn’t completely gone and to a large extent continuous to exist. But it does so with an interesting trend pushing against it: The desire for the genuine. And although this trend produced the reality show, which too became a victim of the “producer,” this emerging push for what is real is gradually changing the cultural landscape and beginning to pay off. Enter Justin Timberlake.
My first impression of the solo work of Timberlake was disappointment. His “Justified” album seemed like the arrogant attempt by a talent-less boybander trying to prove himself. It wasn’t until I took a second look and saw the importance of it. In “Like I Love You“, it is the simple one chord vamp on an acoustic guitar which provides for the entire song’s structure. At first this seemed over-simplistic and boring. It seemed even laughable — I can just imagine poor old Justin struggling to write one song without his precious music producers guiding the way, and the only thing he could come up with was a dumb one chord guitar riff. But then as it got stuck in my head and reluctance in liking it gave way, it struck me. This guy is breaking all the rules. He did something daring. He actually wrote his own song. He abandoned the sacred temple of electronica for an acoustic guitar and people liked it. It was like something within that sewer of the superficial crept up, something real, and gave us something to really enjoy. And it was this experience which made the release of “Futuresex/Lovesounds” worth anticipating.
I knew just by hearing his excitement in that article that it was going to be good. Here’s this guy who has, to his exclusive credit, made a name for himself and really sees a value in what he’s doing. You can just see in him someone who really values the music which came before him, someone who strives to contribute to the American pantheon of great music. And so right when it came out, I got it. And I listened over and over again. I couldn’t get enough of it and by the time I finally overcame my obsession with it, everyone else started to get into it and now I can’t escape it, so I decided to throw my two cents in.
There’s a couple of reasons why I love this album so much. First, it’s simplicity. You can just hear the organic growth of one simple theme or baseline into a full-fledged song. It’s such a throwback to the Soul movement of the 60’s and 70’s. It’s funky and has some great drum beats. But it’s also novel. The combination of beat boxing, the nuanced use of the synthesizer, and the creativity of its lyrical and musical song writing all make for a great experience. And then there’s Timberlake’s voice, a white kid getting away singing falsetto is rare, but he really does it and does it well. What I think makes it such a great album though is that it breaks pop music’s cardinal rule: Thou shalt not deviate from the singing in deference to the music. Those musical interludes are truly original and exciting, especially the song “Lovestoned.” What a daring move to extend the ending of this already awesome song with a meandering musical digression resolving into a completely different theme! It is like he gave absolutely no consideration to what any music executive or radio DJ thought. It is the clear act of a true artist: the defiant expression against the existing stereotype. And although I doubt he provided the arrangement, the string arrangements have Justin’s simple and genuine touch written all over it. The album as a whole is simply remarkable, without one dud on it.
But just as masterpieces of the Jazz movement can’t be solely attributed to one single person, neither can “Futuresex/Lovestoned”. The other genius here is music producer Timberland. Another titan in search for the genuine music of the 21st century, Timberland continues to bring fresh and vibrant ideas to the old concepts of pop. From Missy Elliot to Nelly Furtado, Timberland is redefining the role of the music producer and it’s no different on this album. His contribution can’t be overstated. What a contribution these two have made since “Justified.” It’s really encouraging to see the stale mold of pop music being broken and letting artistic collaboration do its thing. It really does remind me of the various collaborations and combinations of the Jazz age, that burst of creative energy which comes only when music is allowed to go where it wants to.
Well as you can probably tell I have a man-crush on Justin Timberlake. I really don’t want to overstate it. I don’t think he’s the next Mozart or anything, but I think he represents a potentially positive trend in pop music and the culture at large. Not only Justin, but others are breaking that stale mold of the artificial. There really seems to be a need to hear something real, something genuine even if it’s not earth-shattering. Is there any wonder why the top songs these days come from American Idol? — People want something real. It was like the start of this new century provided a sort of shock which made us wake up and look around and say “Maybe everything hasn’t been done. Maybe there’s more.’ And although he’s only a small contribution to this growing trend, Justin Timberlake represents something real and something which genuinely is striving for the artistic. I’m not sure if he’s gotten there yet, but I’m looking forward to hearing what he does along the way, and to see who joins him.
Made in America: The Sopranos Masterpiece Part 3 of 3
(Check out parts 1 and 2 below if you haven’t already)
AJ, Anthony Junior: The ungrateful, weak, and detached son of Tony and Carmila. How many haircuts and clothing styles, how many different groups of friends, how many different future plans did this kid go through? Remember when he played the drums? How about his homie-gangster phase. Or the skater phase. How about his pot phase, or when he wanted to own a club and started to do coke. As Bobby’s niece commented, “You’re all over the place.” Truly this kid’s never settled into anything and has just been jumping from one thing to the next.
We really don’t have that much to go by when it comes to the Soprano family prior to 1999. We can only imagine what it was like before. What was it like when Carmila was pregnant for the first time? What sort of plans did Tony and Carmila have for there lives? What was it like when Tony held his new-born son for the first time? Nothing is more sacred than the bond between parent and child, especially when you’re Italian. And as Meadow noted to A.J. “You’re their son, you’ll always be more important.” We can only imagine what the experience was like for Tony seeing his first-born son: his love, hopes, and dreams. The bond being so real and powerful, the son was even named after the father: Anthony Junior. And over the years, the disappointment, the struggle, the helplessness in seeing there son grow (or more aptly: age).
What’s wrong with this kid? Why is he so lazy? Why is he doing such stupid things? Why can’t I get through to him? How do I? I know — he needs to go to a military academy, or better yet a boot in the ass. Tony’s never known what to make from his son. He’s never really known what to do with him, how to raise him, or the path to encourage him on. And over the years the frustration mounted. But one thing was for sure and most likely it was never discussed, probably not really thought that much about, and ultimately never consciously decided: he will not be what I am. And so Tony found himself going between two worlds: his work and his family. His work was the easy part. He thrived at it. He was in control, in his element, and alive. But at home, everything was confusing. Nothing could be the way he wanted. There was no easy way to make things right. He couldn’t kill, beat up, or threaten his problems away like at work. What was required in his “made” job came naturally and easy to him, but what was required from home was utterly unknown. But when that unconscious, unspoken decision of not allowing his son to become what he is, took hold, the paradoxical dichotomy of The Sopranos was born; and with it, the wandering and searching for identity of his son and those mysterious anxiety attacks. Thus the backdrop for the opening episode of the greatest television series ever: que the ducks and call Dr. Melfi: Tony’s on a quest!
The brilliance which lies in the Sopranos is it’s metaphors. Not only do the metaphors connect the dots and encourage us to keep going deeper, they also serve as those influential experiences for the characters. But the metaphors alone and the analysis which accompanies them is not where we find the real, genuine value to the show. Yes, it’s interesting to look into what underlies the show, but that interest and aesthetic appreciation is not what it’s all about. There’s more! The process of the viewer stepping out of his chair and into the TV is one which is supported and encouraged by the symbols and metaphors, but only to encourage us to keep going. To go beyond those fragmented jumble of images and reach for it’s source. When we decide to believe in this process we find along the way the necessary metaphors, symbols, and quotes which speak to us to encourage us to keep going. It’s like David Chase is whispering to us, ‘Keep going, you’re almost there. Don’t stop believing.’ Once we get the momentum, going through those pictures becomes clearer and we stand awestruck by the ultimate reality of this show. It’s like one of those Magic Eye pictures. We are so trained to try to just look directly at something to understand it. But really we need to unfocus to see it. And when we do the picture literally jumps out at us in 3D. And we finally see that all the metaphors, analysis, and interpretations were just the temporary scaffolding to jump to this ultimate reality. And we finally see that everything we’ve been appreciating from the show was unreal and superficial; the reality is one found by seeing the source of all those superficial images. And once we experience this we become utterly transcended by the show’s greatest metaphor .
Remember back to the coma dream. Within it lies both the experience of the individuation process Tony experiences and a great metaphor for understanding and appreciating the life of Tony Soprano. Why does Tony awake from the coma “smelling the roses”? Is it the simple fact that he lived through his ordeal or is it something more. Is it possible that that wild experience going from the mysterious collective unconscious, struggling for identity and actualization, then realizing that identity not through his prior life and it’s psychological requirements and hold, but through his family; that this experience truly brought Tony out of his sleep and opened his eyes, releasing that past grip on things — and although not consciously remembering the process, is wholly affected by it. And at the same time the coma dream is a metaphor: a truly beautiful and profound metaphor.
We don’t know all that much about Tony’s life growing up but we can only imagine. The tough kid who picks up the cute blond after beating up some other kid. The new upstart gangster in Jersey. Being “made” in the family tradition, taking the reins from pops. Heading to the top, all the while being thoroughly depressed: empty inside. But gradually within that utter emptiness, that feeling of nothingness, a pull towards something different, something new, the pull towards a new identity. And gradually finding himself balancing between two different worlds: one made from his past and a new, yet to be fulfilled one arising from his unconscious yearnings and pull to a new identity. And then the anxiety attacks and the therapy (who am I? what’s going on? Note the appearance of the Alzheimer’s disease at this point in the coma dream). And we watch as Tony reaches for that point to let go of his anxiety. Snuffs out Christopher. The dream is over. Not going in the Finnerty house. Dad wake up! It’s me your daughter, Meadow! And that final moment of reaching what’s been pulling him towards for eight years. That final moment at the Diner. Thus awakes Tony!
Each Sunday for eight years at 9 o’clock, we sit in front of our TV’s as the rating and warnings of the evening’s episode are shown. “Oh yes, there’s nudity and violence tonight” “Oh, just profanity” “Oh some sexual content. Nice!” We all do it. It’s part of anticipating the episode. It gives us a little something to anticipate. But behind all this anticipation for the sex, violence, and crudity lies the greatest reality television has ever shown. And to be so focused on all those carnal moments and to ignore the subtleties and metaphors, we rob ourselves of truly appreciating what is behind all those flickering images. Well, some may say ‘Come on with all this interpretation and metaphor crap. You‘re looking into to it too deep. Ya, it’s probably there but who cares? That’s not why we watch.’ I beg to differ and I do believe David Chase does too. Why you ask? Oh, well for those of us who ‘look too deep,’ we found the most delightful series of metaphors which pass a sort of judgment to your limited appreciation, what you tune in for. Remember in the second to last episode when that hitman was getting a call from the Italian guys who just thought they killed Phil. Did you notice where he was? Well, I guess it was hard not to notice: an adult store. The opening images of the scene are of a threesome being shown on one of the store’s TV’s. Well, I happened to have enjoyed it a little. But then I thought, ‘This is ridiculous. What’s the point of this? It’s so contrary with what the show’s been leading to. Why put it there.’ And then it occurred to me that perhaps it’s a way for Chase to show the absurdity for watching the show for superficial reasons, just the sex and violence. He’s saying ‘Oh, you’ve been watching the show for a little sex? You’re not really up to trying to look into what I’ve been doing for a season or so. Okay, here’s a little porn for you.’ It’s the perfect slap in the face for those fake fans and they didn’t even notice it because they were too busy getting off on watching a threesome. And then only moments later our carnal appetites are given another treat. We get to see Silvio gunned down. Oh yay! How fun! And as our hearts are racing with all the excitement, we then cringe as we witness a motorcyclist get run over. It’s like Chase said, ‘Oh, you happen to take a perverse pleasure in seeing my characters get wacked. You’re happy that finally the excitement is here. Well, then you’ll just love seeing an innocent guy get run over.’ This theme is given a nice symbol with the spectators from Bada-Bing watching in curiosity and then horror: they represent the superficial viewer. But there’s one ultimate last metaphoric judgment Chase passes on those who’ve been watching for superficial reasons, and the superficiality in general. But I’ll save it for later. It’s real good.
And so we’re back at the Diner at that fateful moment. The moment of transcendence. The moment of awakening. The moment David Chase took all that was unreal and breathed life into it. That moment where for those who dared to believe, gave us something to weep for but be utterly humbled. That moment which gave us the license to take a step into our TV steps. That moment which made us realize that “The Sopranos” isn’t just any old TV show, but the greatest work of art ever created.
That moment: When Meadow screamed in horror as the murderer briskly walked by her with a cold stare. When a crowded restaurant hit the floors screaming. When Carmila reached over the table shouting, “Tony, No!” When Anthony Junior wiped the blood of his father’s out of his eyes.
And as Pauly and the gang hand over there envelopes full of money to the black-dressed widow. And as the sister wails over the casket of her father. And as person after person say what a great guy he was, the great darkness descends.
It returns. So ferociously, without mercy. So real, deep, and inescapable.
And as he stares at his girlfriend trying to reach out to him. He sees nothing in her. Nothing in her words. She’s not even there. Nothing is there. Just this feeling. This all too often horrific reality.
And as voicemail after voicemail add up on his cell phone from work. And as a different movie executive assistant is chosen and the company car is taken.
As knocks from a sobbing mother are left unanswered: The great descent into pure hell is made complete and he looks at his broken X-Box on the ground, his childhood is over.
And as he stares at that razor blade. As he craves it’s escape, it’s freedom. He reaches and holds it in his hand. He puts it to his arm. And then he stops.
Something stops him.
He puts the razor blade down. And he stares at again.
Why did I stop? What is it that made me stop?
And a flashback to those desperate moments for air in the pool. Flailing! Gasping! Yelling for help!
And help comes. A second chance has been given. I have been saved.
And now from beyond I am saved again. And that voice, “A.J! What are you doing?!”
And he sits in silence at the razor blade he put down, but not through any decision of his own.
And then he gets up and walks to the window and stares at the trees. At the yard below. And he opens his door, goes down stairs, and embraces his mother and cries. And for the first time he feels something. He feels something real. Something guiding him. Something inside and alive.
The struggle AJ goes through following his father’s death is the most intense thing he’s ever been through. But a force pushing him from inside to live and fight his way out of the darkness shines a light in a new direction and on his true calling.
In the weeks that follow, he remembers watching that TV commercial in the hospital. The one which seemed to make sense of all his suffering. The one of the guy at the kitchen table talking to people from his dreams. And he remembers that quote which made sense of everything, ‘You’re not the only one experiencing this. Other people are going through it too.”
And as he stares at those soldiers fighting in Iraq. As he hears of the daily suffering of the world. He connects to it. And he finally sees the meaning of his suffering. He sees his calling. He finally loses that self-pitying attitude which thinks “Why can’t I catch a break?” He sees his path of life and purpose. He no longer sees his suffering as emptiness, but apart of something with meaning. For the first time he grows. And he sees the source of all this. That which put the razor blade down. That which said from beyond, “AJ! What are you doing?” And after years for struggling for identity and purpose he is finally Made. He is made in the truest sense of the word. And he sees in him who is making him. He is alive. He is alive in me.
Since 9/11, the world has descended into a detached insecurity for the future. The daily terrorist attacks in Iraq leave us with a feeling of emptiness and the desire to go back to how things were. We want to believe that all the problems we face are just temporary and the world will go back to how it was. But the sad truth is that this may be just the beginning, that the problems we face may only grow. But as the violence unfolds and terrorist attacks strike without warning, we see a process occurring. We see signs of hope. We see that the end to all the suffering and violence lies in us seeing meaning from it, in seeing a purpose to it all and having the courage to believe in the purpose and fight for it. And as the years go by in this 21st century, those who see the meaning of all the suffering, those who see suffering transcended, will lead the world. They will lead the world to it’s true state of being, it’s genuine, real, and peaceful state; the vision of this world which being rejected and doubted, is host to the most pernicious, heinous , and purposeless violence.
And these leaders, which history has no shortage of producing, will be from different backgrounds, religions, and nationalities; but they will all have something in common: they are Made. They are the products of that genuine and natural process which reveals their character and spirit. They will be those people who escape a burning car and feel “cleansed.” They will see all there actions, guidance, and source of themselves lying with that transcendent reality. I’m reminded of quote which captures this from Clarissa Pinkola Estes, “All strong souls first go to hell before they do the healing of the world they came here for.”
And so after finding his path from the darkness lying in seeing the meaning of all that violence and suffering. And as he starts learning Arabic again and reading up on the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. And as he grows and follows the path from darkness to light. He will know in his heart where its from. It’s not from himself. It’s from his dad. His dad who he thought was dead, but now sees he’s alive in him. The intimate bond between father and son is fulfilled. And so Tony is sacrificed, as all martyrs are, to save his son, and by extension the world. And that mysterious coma dream is fulfilled. Tony is finally awake. He is alive in his son and all those who his son reaches. No longer does he sit by the TV and watch the heroes of World War II, he is now the spirit of the current and future struggle.
Tony is alive! He is not a fictional character. He is truly alive. And all those disjointed and fictional scenes which we have come to love are in end just pointing to this ultimate reality. In the end, we’ve never known the real Tony Soprano, but now we do! It’s like David Chase’s “Made in America” episode was that final parting with the superficial and unreal and revealed what is real.
In the end the judgment of Tony’s came which he worried about. But it came from himself long before the show started and it was fulfilled at that final (beginning) moment. By letting go of the psychological grip of his ego-’made’ reality he submits himself for sacrificing. He affirms his true identity and reaches towards being truly awake. Truly alive within his son. And thus we finally see the real Tony, his true spirit. It is as if he sacrificed who he thought he was to fulfill his ultimate true purpose as a father. Its kind of like the movie that was playing when Tony visited Sil in the hospital: Little Miss Sunshine. You know, the movie with the little girl running to get on that big yellow car (Almost like trying to get back on the bus our mother’s are driving. Hint, Hint). You know, the movie where all the hopeless and depressed family members find their purpose by sacrificing their lives for that little girl. And thus the great metaphors continue to point us to the ultimate reality:
And that reality which descends on the show and us, like Judgment Day brings Tony alive and us alive with him. “It’s end times. The rapture is coming.” says the FBI agent. This reality presents itself without warning or fanfare. Without mercy and concern, but with grace and beauty. It comes, casting a blow on all which is superficial and temporary. It comes in the form of a Ford truck which knows not, nor cares not for the superficial “made” soul who’s head it is crushing, but inside holds all which is genuine and beautiful, the little babies.
Maya Brahman
In the end, I can only point to this reality. I can only help with the scaffolding. In the end you’ll have to jump. In the end you’ll have to have the courage to see something in nothing. To truly be able to appreciate and revere that which has been done with this show, to truly recognize it as being the greatest work of art ever, you’ll have to go on the Journey. In the end, we are told, “Don’t stop
