There is a phenomenon that I feel I occasionally hint at or passingly refer to from time to time on here in my life, where I find an aspect of myself which I recognize now but would seem to have roots that trace back to some point that fades into the past, and I can no longer discern it distinctly. My liberalism (and the creeping feeling that this was retrieved and enforced by my surrounding culture throughout the entirety – just about – of my childhood) is one of them.

And, it would seem, my Catholicism is one as well (which is particularly bizarre to me), because I really never identified strongly with my Catholicism until college. I don't believe I ever have mentioned this here (though I started to actually notice, and mention, it for the first time after discussing religion in college, first in Williams Secular Community, then with Arantza, Andrew, and Kahn, and then in InterFaith) but, in spite of attending Sunday School (on and off) and stepping foot into a church at least half of the year (Catholic, naturally), I didn't really have a particularly Catholic identity. Sure, I identified as Catholic, but my religious affiliation could really have been better described as a Christian identity than a Catholic one.

America is a Christian nation – insofar that "Christian nation" means one based upon a premise of generic Protestant Christianity largely due to a bizarre necessity, by a decent amount of people, for evangelism (including tacit evangelism like politicians feeling it's necessary to say God bless at the end of every speaking engagement, regardless of zir own religious identifications or those whom ze is addressing) and a held belief that, so long as we all believe in JESUS, everything else will turn out fine (seriously, though, we need to all agree on that one fact – we do, right? Right?).

The downfall of this approach (other than the glaring fact of expected cultural religious conformity) is that a lot of the cool denominational diversity that exists is passed over. However, from a personal perspective, it robbed me of the diversity within my denomination by making me think that Christianity meant X (and, since Catholicism is a form of Christianity, Catholicism must mean X). This provided me with thoughts like Catholicism believed in sola scriptura (Latin for "by scripture alone"). Or, as I've complained irately a multitude of times here, sola fide (Latin for "[salvation] by faith alone").

This, in turn, had me stating that there was no real Christian denomination that I agreed with (how could I, when, in my ignorance, they all required faith for salvation?); I identified as Catholic, because that's what I grew up in and, therefore, was the place of my attendance (it surely had nothing to do with me agreeing with the theology).

This, I think, is why discovery of my Catholicism was this very cool experience (and welcome relief) in college. However, it was also a somewhat bizarre experience, as I realized that a lot of my religion fit me so well. This was bizarre because I had not sought out Catholicism for its stances (indeed, I was so utterly clueless the whole of my childhood as to what Catholicism stood for that I actually rejected it (as I did all Christian denominations) as an imperfect expression of my own beliefs; I had no issue with being Christian: I just didn't agree with the conclusions most Christian religions extrapolated from that). And yet Catholicism seemed to verify so much of what I did agree with:

We employ incense and cross ourselves, because worship should involve all the senses?
Cool; I never thought of theology in that light before.

Our liturgy, like aspects of our scripture and Jewish liturgy, ought to be symbolic and metaphorical?
Cool; as an English major, I can completely get that.

Our Mass should include beautiful music and incense and pretty stained-glass windows, because it ought to be art, because art is a means of connecting with the divine and Truth?
What a beautiful idea.

Reason and logic are tools given to Human-kind, and we ought to use them and, indeed, can (and ought to) use them to perceive and understand God?
How very Enlightenment like.

In lieu of the last point, there ought to be a respect for science as an explainer of our current universe? So much so that St. Augustine said that scripture should possibly be regarded as metaphorical if science contradicts it. On top of that, there's a very rich history of priests as scientists, as well as the church being a patron of the sciences; lest we forget, it was a priest that helped formulate the concept of the Big Bang.
Wonderful.

Of course, some of why I like those things (stuff like the use of reason and the importance of beauty/art) are because they tie us very close to a celebration to the human/earthly form (which, in turn, is why more on the Protestant side dislike Catholicism and just see it as an extension of paganism. All that incense, candles, and stained-glass windows? Just distractions taking your mind away from focusing on God during the service). Admittedly, my favorite priests were the ones who'd sit down with you around at a pub with a beer (or mix drinks) or join you to hang out somewhere or had experience at college campuses – imagine the somewhat portly priest so ridiculed during the middle ages, the priest perceived to be too much of this Earth, too down-to-Earth. Of course, theology was always so much more strongly about morality rather than how wicked the Earth itself is, so I've never been too afraid of celebrating and enjoying our Earthly humanity.

An orthodox Catholic would probably find a middle ground, of sorts. Certainly our humanity isn't to be wholly repudiated. After all, Christ became man, and what was his first miracle? Making water into wine.

But I think this highlights the final conclusion I came to: while Catholicism, I discovered, was the religion that fit me the closest (sans Judaism), I still wound up disagreeing with aspects of it. I graduated with a degree in Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies with a concentration in Queer Studies, after all. I would not be surprised to learn that the pope and I have some differing ideas. Despite the absolute unlikelihood of it, I want women ordained; I understand all reasons the why the church refuses on that point, but I can't – in good conscience – agree. And you know, really, my differences are small in number. But they all focus around things which are pretty much dogma by now. For all the changes the church can make (and they can be awesome; how the Mass is viewed after Vatican II is an awesome understanding and approach to our liturgy), they won't be any that address the bulk of my issues with Catholicism.

However, unless I decide to convert to Judaism, this is what I have. The time I became an atheist taught me (ironically) that I am a religious person; my understanding of the world involves religion. Honestly, I think it's inseparable from who I am (there's a reason I was co-president of InterFaith for two years).

However, this isn't a complete impediment. After all, I spent most of the entirety of my life in a religion that I disagreed with; I now agree with it so much more so, so it's even better than it was before, right?

And, really, I don't think I'm really making how clear I like a lot of Catholicism right now. I forget if I mentioned it on here or had only thought to, but it's very difficult to describe the feeling I got when hearing an organ playing from out of a cathedral while at Princeton for the interfaith summit. Or the sounds of, really, any form of chanting of psalms and hymns (though, naturally, Gregorian has a special place in my heart). And, of course, the celebration of the Mass.

But there's also another one of those phenomena I mentioned at the beginning of this post that makes my Catholicism so cozy. Again, for the life of me, I'm not sure where I get this feeling (in particular since I only really started understanding Catholicism in college), but there is a history of liberal Catholics throughout history, a group of liberal intellectuals who, in spite of their differences with Catholicism due to their liberalism, are fully Catholic (and are, in fact, liberal fully due to being Catholic). Yet, if you were to ask me for examples, I would come up short, which isn't to say that the idea is far-fetched. As I've already said, there is an emphasis and respect for intellectualism within Catholicism, particularly in the area of philosophy. And, while part of the reason you can consider the Catholic voting bloc Democratic for the most part (even to this day) is because most Catholic immigrants were Irish (and thus Catholic) while also being working class and, thus, labor (as well as Kennedy, obviously), I think it's telling, when Catholic no longer means Irish here in America, at least 50-some percent of Catholics are still voting Democrat. The only time I've actually really witnessed this was during my Senior year of college with Andrew. We were both pretty hard-leaning liberals, though of different stripes in the end, and yet entirely Catholic.

Both of us could back up why we do what we do during Mass and in most of our theology. Andrew was more versed in the philosophy used by Catholicism to justify itself. I'm pretty concerned regarding liturgy (including that outside of Mass). And, while I was always happy to find myself in a fully-Catholic room from time to time (due to, for nine elevenths of my life, not fully identifying as Catholic), Andrew and I would often laugh about what we disagreed with and perceived as ridiculous about our church (at one point, he mentioned that he thought he had heard that the papacy had released an official apology for what had happened with Galileo; we marveled how, in comparison to other Christian denominations, ours could get so many things right and yet others still so utterly wrong. Then we laughed as we noted the church had no problem with evolution (unlike other denominations) but still hadn't apologized for when it denied that the sun revolved around the Earth).

Side note: come to think of it, Kaz and I probably fall into that same place together, but I feel him and I haven't discussed politics enough for such a dynamic to unfold.

And this is my longwinded way of eventually reaching the point of this post.

I like my religion; I do. Actually, it's (admittedly) more torn than that, with high extremes of each end. While I often don't put anything in the collection plate each Sunday (in part because I don't really have any money, though more these days because I can't justify supporting financially an institution that I disagree so extremely on in some cases), I still vouch for the religion. But the point is, I'm trying to find my place in it. Based on the merits that Catholicism does have, I think we ought to root ourselves in that. In other words, Catholic culture. But what is that, exactly? Good question.

And these thoughts which are usually lurking around my head came to the forefront, when I came across this article: http://patrickdeneen.blogspot.com/2009/05/abortion-and-catholic-culture.html.

At first, I thought the article was going to make the argument that abortion and pro-life culture dominated Catholic culture at the moment (which, really, you can't create a culture around a singular idea), and it was because of this that people were leaving the church in droves (particularly young people). To quote two sentences from the article: "In my view, the singular focus upon abortion as THE issue over which conservative Catholics will brook no divergence and around which we are called to rally reveals, to my mind, not evidence of robust Catholic culture as much as its absence.[…]The ferocity over this issue – and this issue almost to the exclusion of nearly every other issue that might be part of a rich fabric of Catholic culture – suggests to me that Catholic culture, where it existed, has been largely routed."

Instead, the article is about how we live in American society's culture and not in a purely Catholic one, and this is why some Catholics feel okay not centralizing their Catholicism around abortion (after all, abortion is not at the center of Catholic spirituality or theology).

***Note: I'm not interested in contemplating the morality of abortion; that's not the point of this post. Everything written here will be sans my own opinions on abortion, if I even have any***

And this is somewhat central to my search for a Catholic culture or, really, namely a Catholicism I feel comfortable in.

As I noted to my dad a few days ago, I'm extremely conservative when it comes to liturgy (possibly a small part of why I'm so interested in Judaism – our liturgy came out of that, so, if you want to go back to the source…). On the other hand, as I've noted (and demonstrated) a multitude of times here, I'm extremely liberal (no surprise anymore). So, when I find someplace I really like worshiping, I will probably not be liked by most of the people there.

On the other hand, I agree entirely with the concepts of Vatican II regarding changes to the Mass. The difficulty comes with the part that calls for more local aspects brought in (which, ultimately, I do agree). A Mass is a Mass is a Mass. And while I recognize it as valid, it's not my ideal way of celebrating it (a valid opinion, I would argue, seeing that the very construction of the Mass was as an art to be enjoyed and admired). The part of the article that talks about how we are members of parishes (where we live) rather than shopping around for the right place and, thus, we have a culture of acceptance rather than transformation struck me as funny, largely because I've been going to different parishes to see the differing Masses because the one in my parish is far too liberal in its liturgy for my taste (and it's not even that liberal, by today's standards; it's actually rather common place – hence why I haven't settled for a particular parish yet).

Yet there's the rub. I agree with Vatican II (I know, technically I'm not supposed to even have the choice of disagreeing if I'm a part of this church, but clearly I'm not a fully orthodox Catholic). I don't disagree with these Masses; I simply dislike them (stylistically). There's an important difference in that.

So, in the grand question of what is Catholic culture, how do we decide in such diversity? Well, the first problem, I would guess, would be that you can't define culture around the Mass (though there are some interesting questions that arise from such an idea and I'm certain there have been Catholic philosophers (and I would probably agree) that there are ways to do so partially). Sure, liturgy can be important to culture, but, as I've said several times, Mass is not the only part of the liturgy. Did you know that it is practically literally impossible (I don't know if I've checked all the possibilities yet) to find a parish that celebrates Vespers within a 45 minute drive from my house?

Perhaps it's more linked to the problem that I tend to find in my own spiritual life. If it isn't obvious yet, I prefer liturgical religions. There are some liberal reasons for this involving analysis of systems and how it affects the adherents, etc. but I think this post is getting long enough as it is. Yet if I wanted to find other means of discovering the wealth of diverse and beautiful liturgy we have? It literally took me a year to fully understand what the Divine Office was, let alone how to practice it. And, if it weren't for the particular people in my life during that time, I don't know I would have discovered it so quickly; yes, you can always ask your priest, but doesn't it make more sense to have that information readily available somewhere in easy-to-digest form rather than putting it through a bottleneck of one person?

So where was I supposed to discover the wealth of my Catholic faith? Arguably, Sunday School (and, God knows, those poor teachers did their best) but you can't expect children from such a young age to truly value the information their receiving (at one point, one of the kids just played his Gameboy under the table while claiming he was meditating; I'm pretty sure my teacher just gave up).

But after that? Sure, my brother and I were made altar servers (from which I learned a great deal), but there really isn't any other means other than lector or Eucharistic minister – all of which doesn't really teach you or envelop you in the liturgy (particularly outside of the Mass). It envelopes you scripture, sure, but – you know – we're heretics and scripture alone isn't enough for us.

And this is why I got so excited about that article. I thought it was going to repudiate abortion (or same-sex marriage or contraceptives) as the pillar in which to encircle our culture around. Because you can't create a Catholic culture around an external cause. It has to involve more (and I do defend this point, even to the issue of poverty, an issue which has been a Catholic cause for ages and strikes directly to Catholicism).

You want to know why people are leaving the church? The first is that you're zeroing in on divisive issues (homosexuals and Transsexuals and condoms in Africa) and, like good Catholics, the laity is using their God-given reason to see that the church's position just doesn't make that much sense (plus, it hurts people). At least, that's my pet theory.

However, more so, you're not giving these people any alternative. A religion focused around fighting abortion is not going to keep people; people want a little bit more.

Give them something which makes them feel Catholic. Because, right now, there isn't really much. I was stuck in rapt horror during the Mass before the March for Life as it was built up to with generic worship music (which, naturally, all sounded the same and could think of remotely creative lyrics even though they're supposedly written for a higher power). I might as well have been attending any evangelical group back at home because there was hardly any difference other than there were a bunch of priests and seminarians walking around. The only point that an actual difference started to emerge was during the introduction of the bishops present and a reference to the relic being used on the altar (and, of course, the Mass itself).

Now, there's a long and personal history as to why I'm so bitter against such worship, but the point still remains: why am I bothering to stick with Catholicism when evangelicalism is offering pretty much the same thing? Evangelicalism is able to keep its adherents, because it operates on a system of fearing about your own salvation and the salvation of everyone you care about with a constant threat of going to Hell and an expectation to be continually perfect to the point that it becomes an informal (not always realized) game of bragging rights. This is not Catholicism (though, of course, with some of the laity (and apparently some of the clergy) seeing no difference between evangelical culture and Catholic culture, who knows anymore).

Setting up places to more easily understand and learn about liturgy would be a start, as well as the ability to learn about Catholic philosophy would be good.

Of course, they may end up tacitly (and then un-tacitly) agreeing with opposition to same-sex marriage, contraceptives, and the like. I need more liberal Catholics; where do I find them?

 

***Note: I think it's obvious, but better safe than sorry – when I refer to evangelicalism here, it's a rather large umbrella term and is referring to those groups I have personal experience with, rather than everyone. Further, it's more often in reference to evangelical culture than necessarily theology***

Well, she drew out all her money from the Southern Trust
And put her little boy on the Greyhound Bus:
Leaving Memphis with a guitar in his hand
On a one way ticket to the Promised Land

Well, hey little girl, with the red dress on,
There's party tonight down in Memphis town:
I'll be going down there, if you need a ride;
The man on the radio says Elvis Presley's died

 

We drove down into Memphis;
    the sky was hard and black
Up over the ridge came a white Cadillac
They drawn out all his money, and they laid him in the back
A woman cried from the roadside, "Oh he's gone, he's gone..."
They found him slumped up against a drain
With a whole lotta trouble, yeah, running through his veins

Bye bye Johnny, Johnny bye Bye:
You'dn't have to die – you'dn't have to die...

Every day ends in wasted motion
Just crossed swords on the killing floor
To settle back is to settle without knowing
The hard edge that you're settlin' for...

'Cause there's always just one more day
And it's always gonna be that way
Little girl, you've been down here so long
I can tell by the way that you move you belong to the

Jackson Cage
Down in the Jackson Cage
And it don't matter – just what – you say
Are you tough enough to play – the game – they play
Or will you just do your time and fade away,
Down into the Jackson Cage
--Bruce Springsteen

I believe I'm about a week late, so I'll give you guys a few stuff.

Because I do try to point out music I think is good that you guys may not have heard of, I'd like to say that I'm very impressed by how much Orla Gartland's lyric writing ability has improved over the years. She has an EP coming out, sometime. Check her FB page for updates: http://www.facebook.com/OrlaGartland.

 

But I would like to move to ruminate on her cover of the song "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen. I actually think it's my favorite cover of the song, ever.

EDIT: Orla has, without notice or given reason, made the video private. I'm going to take her not responding to my question of why and if I could get an mp3 of the track as tacit approval to upload an mp3 here myself. 

One of the first reasons is that Orla sings with a lower, almost husky tone, which I've said before I like her doing more. The other part is that nearly every single word she sings seems to try to cover every possible note there is to sing at the same time. Listen for it: every word she seems to fluctuate between five different notes. It's really beautiful, and it's the principle reason I started listening to her channel.

The third reason is really more personal, but it's that she kinda mumbles the entire thing. It's a trait I've always appreciated in others.

Now, the best way to flesh out why I really like this version over others is to compare it to other covers. My two runner-up favorites would be John Cale and k.d. lang:

I had commented to one of my siblings (I think my sister) that what I liked about Orla's performance is that she sounds like she's about to break down crying throughout it. In retrospect, I don't think that's it. Rather, she sounds like she'll break down into silence at any moment, refusing to bother singing anymore and just sit despondently in a corner.

Cale's version likewise has that emotional tinge, as if he's been wronged, yet there's no uncertainty in his voice. It's a forward driving piece, because at no point does he doubt what he's singing or the message he's conveying. The stripped down piano helps to accents what he's saying, yet – because it's the gorgeous instrument that is the piano – is capable of swelling and filling the piece, making the room feel less vacant than it is. It allows for building up and for still allowing in that emptiness.

In contrast, lang's piece is more of a ballad, meant to be grandiose. Yet (you might've noticed I prefer the more depressing take on this song than an upbeat one) it still has the ability to touch on that prostrate feeling of loneliness and despair. However, at no point does lang's performance seem personal. Which I don't think detracts from the song. And I know there would be some who'd vehemently disagree with me, so I say this with hesitance, yet I'm struck, every time I listen to it, that the song sounds more like a performance than anything else. lang is clearly an accomplished singer and what she does takes a lot of control and intentionality – and that's what it sounds like. After thinking about it, I think what it is is that it sounds like lang is singing about the person referenced in the song rather than directly sympathizing with their emotions. She is empathizing rather than sympathizing. Which, again, I don't think makes it less of a song. It actually probably beats out Cale's version in my book.

 

In contrast to both of those, Gartland's version is far less declaratory. The only musical backing is the very basic, repeated plucking of her guitar, giving us the most stripped down version yet. At first, I had wondered if her version would have benefited from a more elaborate guitar backing – like, say, Jeff Buckley's version –, but I realized that the stripped down barrenness aided in the isolated feeling that the overall piece carries.

Besides, it allows more attention to her vocals, which are what really carry this piece. As I said before, they sound like they're ready to give out on her, too timid for their own assurance. When she sings, "But you don't…really care for music, do ya…?" it sounds like she's almost afraid to hear the answer to that question.

Which doesn't keep the song from its own swelling. Despite my own taste for non-bombast versions of the tune, I firmly believe it is a song which is supposed to swell. The second half of each verse really should build, emotionally. And Orla doesn't leave that out. Yet the emotional insecurity of the song is never left out.

As she sings, "Well it goes like this:/The fourth, the fifth,/The minor fall and the major lift/The baffled king composing…Alleluia," she sounds wavering through every word, as if her voice might collapse beneath her all while she builds in volume.

When she sings, "Well, she tied you to her kitchen chair/And she broke your throne, and she cut your hair/And from your lips she drew the Alleluia," her voice starts to broil with indignation, ever so slightly, before collapsing into a wavering sadness at the line, "she cut your hair".

As she sings, "Well, I've seen your flag on the marble arch/and love is not a victory march/Well it's a cold and it's a broken Alleluia," her voice finally breaks the uncertainty and the wavering, only to sing the lines, "love is not a victory march/Well it's a cold and it's a broken Alleluia".

At "Well remember when I moved in you/And the holy dark was moving through/And every breath we drew was Hallelujah", it seems more pleading than anything else, a call to remember before ending the song.

 

Frankly, she does an amazing job at capturing a wounded-ness in the song that is truly captivating and moving. And, in spite of the surrendering nature of the tune, she manages to convey a million different emotions at the same time. As I said, my favorite cover of this song of all time.

When it comes to rap, I've become a fan of saying that you should find someone's camp to plant yourself in.

There's a couple of reasons for this. One is the often personal nature of rap. It's seems to be one of those few genres in which every single album deals with the development of the artist and tends to be autobiographical to some extent. That's part of the reason, I would argue, that it was capable of becoming mainstream: people got caught up in what was happening to the artist. It's why someone can get interested in Dr. Dre from being a fan of Eminem despite never listening to nearly all of Dre's old material or being born after the intense influence he would have on the East and West Coast during the 90s. Em and Dre have a very close relationship and people relate to that.

The second reason is the inevitable rap politics. Biggie or Pac? Jay or Nas? East Coast, Dirty South, or West Coast? Who do you back, who do you support. While beef has done probably more to destroy the community than build it, harmless cliques form, as with all social circles.

 

As you guys might've caught on by now, I'm becoming a strong Lady Essence fan. When it comes to Pac or Biggie, I have to go Notorious B. I. G. Despite his faults and the fact that he could never hit mainstream for a variety of reasons, Biggie has too much talent for me to say no.

And, if my constant praises for Reasonable Doubt hasn't made it obvious, I'm a Jay-Z fan.

And it's largely Jay-Z that makes the recent collaboration album with Kanye, Watch the Throne, worthwhile for me. I may do an album review later of it, but, for now, I want to focus on one song.

 

Now, any fan of Jay has to admit several things out the gate: he has a habit of dumbing down his material just for sales. This often results in having to disregard tracks because they're just meant to make sales. It can be irritating because the man is capable of such talent, it's an insulting waste. He also seems to think that making a track likable for a large audience is just as important as his own artistic interests for the song, which sometimes results in him doing things which seem stupid which he actually thinks isn't dumbing down. He also has quite the ego, despite often sounding (to me, at least) like he's talking to you rather than at you on most songs.

Which is what makes "Welcome to the Jungle" such an interesting song (and reason enough for Watch the Throne to have been made, as far as I'm concerned).

It just may be the most open and honest Jay has been since "Regrets" from Reasonable Doubt (which immediately makes me wonder if he's acting it but I suppose we'll never know).

The Jungle in question he is in the same sense as the Upton Sinclair novel The Jungle and the Guns N' Roses song "Welcome to the Jungle": a city.

What's interesting is that Jay does nearly the whole thing and the complete unraveling with which he does it, making it instantly interesting for its emotional appeal alone. Well, for me, in any case.

The first line Kanye lets off is, "I asked her where she wanna be when she 25: she turned around and looked at me, and she said, 'Alive.'", possibly alluding to Outkast's song "Da Art of Storytellin' (Part 1)".

Jay and Kanye's first verse just set the details, painting for us the projects and the social enviroment therein. Jay proclaims, "Look to the sky, ask why I was born." It's heavy-handed emotionalism that may be, well, uninteresting, particularly considering the often suave persona he's always put on even in the face of discussing these topics in the past.

Yet it's the often personal way he drives them that makes them interesting. The surrounding lyrics contain the fantastic wordplay he's been known for and detail poverty which everyone seems to know of and be aware of (yet never care about). It's his nihilism (both in delivery and lyrics) in response to things that were supposed to have meaning that makes the song so resonant.

"Where the fuck is the sun?
It's been a while
Mama, look at your son
What happened to my smile?"

Frankly, there's something incredibly terrifying about the statement, as if such a thing could just one day leave. And it drives at not only the poverty but the mental affect of such poverty.

Yet it's also the simplicity of the statement, which drives home how basic the emotional need is. And its in that baseness that its loss is so tragic, because it's so needed and is yet deprived.

"My tears is tatted
My rag in my pocket
I'm just looking for love:
I know somebody's got it"

Again, an almost naïve statement, as if love has to be there somewhere. If it's not evident, then somebody has to be hiding it. The statement also gets at how we're promised certain things in life, from the media to community values. Everyone is going to succeed someday, right? Everyone gets an education, right? Everyone gets to fall in love, right? So assured do we become in these promises that life literally doesn't make sense when it defaults on them. Of course I get love: just where is it?

"I'm losing myself
I'm stuck in the moment
I look in the mirror:
My only opponent"

These two bars were the most interesting to me. Anyone acquainted with Jay's ego knows that a statement such as this would be quick to be said. He doesn't actually have any rivals: he's too good.

Yet in the context of "Welcome to the Jungle", the line takes on a very different connotation. During a song in which he's been trying to make sense, following a few lines where he's trying to reclaim control, the line becomes a self-admonishment. He can do better than this, if only he'd try harder. But it also gets at the inner demons he has to struggle with, thereby making himself his own opponent. Excellent turn on the phrase.

And it's with such emotional bluntness that he makes this track easily my favorite on the album. It's here, if anywhere, that you get a true human connection with Jay, making real the message of the song.

"Where the fuck is the press?
Where the fuck is the Pres.?
Either they don't know, or don't care: I'm fucking depressed
No crying in public
Just lying to judges
Risking my life: I'm already dying, so fuck it" 

It's official; I'm buying Lady Essence's album soon as it drops. The girl is rather fantastic (that being an understatement - did you hear her verse??), and I have a strong feeling she's only going to get better. I need to cobble together a playlist of her stuff to keep me sane.

Alyssa Marie doesn't seem that bad either, though I'm far less familiar with her. "Vision of division of the artificial until what's art is official". Loved that. She's got a pretty controlled and solid flow, too.

And, just for old time's sake:

I've noticed over the past 4 years that the number of cover, remix, and simply related videos to "Feelin' it" have gone up on YouTube. While that's great, predictably all remix/covers eschew the layered character development that Jay employs in favor of purer partying or bragging. The more time passes, the more strongly I come to love this track.

I'm strongly considering becoming an atheist.