For Jes -
It has long been held by some
that art is most closely linked to youth
and revolution. Art constantly strives
to dismantle societal norms and bored
clichés, just as the revolutionary spirit
fights complacency and stagnation. If
this line of thinking were to continue,
one would assume that art, therefore,
actively seeks its destruction, and further-
more, would not have it any other way.
Similarly, dreams, by their very nature,
invariably aspire to their own destruction,
if only because the dreamer will surely
wake up.
Words are just that - words.
They exist only to fall away at the exact
moment of utterance, to be lost forever.
They provide moments of communications
and then disappear. Do not confuse words
with their message, which has the potential
to exist indefinitely. No, words and their message are two entirely separate entities. Words are the mayflies of communication, they exist briefly; they exist only to be replaced by something new. By that same reasoning, dreams are unspoken words. However, dreams serve only to communicate to the dreamer, whereas words have a much larger audience. Their message, however, is equally, if not more, important. Herein lies the importance of the written word. Once words have been collected, organized, and, most importantly, written, they become objects. Objects can survive independently of their creator and are thus able to communicate their message much more broadly and they live on.
At first glance, this maelstrom of creation and destruction seems like a vicious cycle. If poetry is tangible, it is contained within itself, doomed to die a slow, literary death, if not a quick, revolutionary one. However, this vicious cycle can be broken quite easily: interpretation. While art’s message and emotion is vital, the way it is interpreted is equally important. That is why written poetry is not made obsolete as soon as it is written. It is made alive every time someone new, or someone old with a new perspective, reads it, for its message can be broadcast again. Anytime art invokes a feeling, it is alive and serving its purpose. Even a revolution in itself can be interpreted differently by different schools of thought, thus compounding the associated poetry’s ability to be reborn and renewed.
Art is simply a message of self-expression, and everyone has something to say. It doesn’t have to be artsy or earth shattering. Art can very well be appreciated for its simplicity, its catchy nature, and its ability to relate two people together. We all have something to say: something simple, original, or universal-a message of hope, love, despair, or just being. Contained within Stroke of the Pen are the hopes, messages, and dreams, of Amory High School students put in the form of pictures and poems, photographs and stories. If art is constantly changing, whom will our children study in 30, 50, 100 years? What is being produced today that is worthy of study? Who are the major players of the scene? Is Robbie my generation’s Andy Warhol? Are Malik Coleman and David the next Ted Ellis and Frank Morrison? Sarah Crump, a new breed of Steinbeck? Riley Manning, a younger, hipper, new age Ray Bradbury? The world’s stage is set for a new era of great artists, but only time will tell.
For Ben-
An Analysis of Tim Kasher’s “Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand”
Cursive, formed in 1995, is a five-person band hailing from Omaha, Nebraska. Matt Maginn, Clint Schnase, Ted Stevens, and Gretta Cohn are the band’s bassist, drummer, guitarist, and cellist, respectively, while singer/songwriter Tim Kasher fronts the band. They released their latest album, The Ugly Organ, in March of last year and it falls somewhere close to a "concept album." While this term usually carries negative connotations, frontman Kasher fails to see why a collection of songs cannot be viewed as a “cohesive whole,” as the songs from The Ugly Organ are meant to be seen. Similarly, the genres indie and emo (the two genres under which critics and fans usually place Cursive) also carry negative connotations. While the term “indie” originally described underground, non-mainstream alternative rock and “emo” initially meant any post-punk that dealt more with emotions and feelings as opposed to politically charged anthems, both terms have since evolved into a sound of their own and, unfortunately, have become synonymous with pretentious white kids with problems. Kasher is not pleased with this stereotype and The Ugly Organ’s satirical, sarcastic opener, “Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand,” makes it known, although the listener needs to do some deciphering and pseudo detective work to see it.
Tim Kasher has been making music for a long time, and he makes it very obvious from the get go that he does not have time to waste listening to critics tell him about it. In the opening lines of “Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand,” Kasher introduces his song, and subsequently Cursive’s latest album, The Ugly Organ, and, in a slightly bored tone, sings: “And now, we proudly present/ songs perverse and songs of lament. / A couple hymns of confession, / and songs that recognize our sick obsessions" (ll. 1-4). The speaker knows his songs are moody and dark, and he has come to terms with that. He re-emphasizes his tenure in the indie rock business and starts his real message bluntly enough. He says: “Sing along - I’m on the ugly organ, again. / Sing along - I’m on the ugly organ, so let’s begin” (ll. 5-6). The song, written in iambic tetrameter, flows quickly and seamlessly, making Kasher seem eager or anxious to “begin.” So let’s.
Most critics agree that The Ugly Organ is a themed album, the “ugly organ” obviously being the main theme. This phrase is simply a double entendre that extends itself throughout the entire album. Not only does it refer to all of the worst aspects of making music, but also to relationships turned sour and the role that sexuality has to play in such souring. While Kasher never forgets the sexual nature of the ugly organ, “Some Red Handed Sleight of Hands” deals mainly with the former of the two interpretations.
In the final couplet of the first verse, again in a way that says that he’s done this sort of thing before, Kasher says: “…so read on - accuse me when you’re done -/ if it sounds like I did you wrong” (ll. 9-10). Kasher uses end rhyme and a triplet rhythm to emphasize the words “I did you wrong.” This last line provides some foreshadowing for the second verse, but the song moves at a fevered pitch, and the listener hardly has time to consider the implications of the last line, no matter how significant. Again, Kasher simply does not have the time to bother with letting everything sink in, which reinforces the idea that music making is old hat to him. In fact, the song lasts barely two minutes but is stuffed with symbolism, allusion, and metaphor, especially the second verse.
After a brief musical interlude, Kasher picks up again, this time in a higher musical register, marking a change in his attitude and message. He almost screams: “Our father who art in heaven,/ save me from this wreck I’m about to drown in./ Didn’t I learn anything, counting out/ my sins on rosary beads?” (ll. 11-15). The Roman-Catholic allusions are immediately apparent and set the tone for the second verse - the first line of an “Our Father” and a reference rosary beads. Again, Kasher uses almost the first half of the second stanza to foreshadow the last ten climactic lines of his song. All this talk of wrecks, sin, and rosary beads shows very clearly that something is amiss, although Kasher does not make it clear until the end of the song, and only then after the listener has spent sometime analyzing the lyrics of the songs in which these themes are developed (remember that this is a themed album). Kasher is commenting on the state of music today, writing songs about writing songs.
Kasher mentions the ugly organ again; however, this time another character occupies the seat. Kasher illustrates: “The reverend plays on the ugly organ; / he spews out his sweet and salty sermon/ on the audience…” (ll. 16-18). In this verse, Kasher plays the reverend, the stereotypical indie/emo writer, his sermon being his songs and albums. Kasher uses two seemingly conflicting adjectives to describe this music - “sweet” and “salty.” While one could play with the aforementioned double entendre and take shots at the church and its, ahem, ugly organ, Kasher is still commenting on the music making process, and explains his point in detail in the last half of this verse. While he provides his fans with the sweetness they want to hear (even if it is pain and sorrow), he deceives them at the same time. This idea is entertained many more times on The Ugly Organ, in “Art is Hard” and “Butcher the Song.” In fact, these lines would only seem like garbled religious rantings if not for the detail and clarity that these other two tracks provide. Keep in mind that this is a themed album, and “Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand” serves to introduce these themes, however vaguely, obscurely, or abstractly, and the rest of the album explains and pulls things into focus. Thanks to “Art is Hard,” we know that the speaker feels guilty about embellishing his “songs perverse and songs of lament” to sell records. However, the speaker is not entirely to blame, since we know that the fans want lament and sadness, as told in “Butcher the Song.”
Kasher uses the last seven lines to detail his deception and thievery, all the while keeping with his style of religious symbolism. He says:
“…So why do I think I’m any different?
I’ve been making money off my indifference.
We all pass the hat around,
‘This is my body’, this is the blood I found
on my hands after I wrote this album.
Play if off as stigmata for crossover fans…
some red handed sleight of hand” (ll. 18-24).
Here, Kasher brings all of the aspects of his song together (music itself, the church, deception), and makes startling parallels. The fact that Kasher so eagerly connects the church to thievery and deception is not surprising since he was raised Catholic and has since separated himself from the church. Even playing the role of reverend earlier in the song is a subtle insult. “Passing the hat around” refers, of course, to the offering plate in which parishioners tithe to help support the church. While this seems nice, the offering is infamous for being embezzled and wasted on useless things. While making pretty music seems nice, it is usually laden with pain and sorrow, and is now used, according to Kasher, still in the form of reverend, to take teenagers’ allowance. Kasher also points out the “blood on his hands,” a common metaphor illustrating guilt. Guilty of exaggerating one’s sorrow to sell a record, guilty of swindling parishioners to buy a nice house. Even the title of the song, “Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand,” mentioned again in the last line, is loaded with the same type of finger pointing and blame laying. The term “sleight of hand” is associated with cheating at cards, bean-under-a-walnut-shell games, and other fair ground trickeries, and it is no coincidence that little ditties of creepy organ music that could be found in a stereotypical horror-movie fairground setting litter the empty spaces between tracks on this album, nor that Kasher connects sleights of hand so closely with the church and music. Frankly put, according to Kasher, organized religion and the music scene of today are simply one big con.
It may seem as though Kasher, as the speaker/reverend, is heartless and has no sense of artistry, no passion for his work, and simply looks to score a buck or two, but this is not the case. Keeping in mind the song’s track record in religious allusion, jump back to the first verse, in which Kasher explains: “It’s no use to keep a secret/ everything I hide ends up in lyrics…” (ll. 7-8). This is a rock and roll confessional, with listeners opening their ears to the sins of a songwriter. Kasher is indeed putting something into his work, albeit his pain.
At the end of the second verse, Kasher quotes Jesus at the Last Supper, saying, “This is my body.” We all know that Jesus’ disciples consumed the bread, thus taking His message with them. Similarly, Kasher’s fans take something of his with them. They take his secrets and his fears. Likewise, Kasher makes reference to “blood on his hands.” This line has up to three meanings, one being guilty (in this case of deceiving fans or parishioners), another being similar to the dynamic of the point made by the “this is my body” line, and a third dealing with Kasher’s later mention of stigmata. The term “stigmata,” as well as being a reference to the pain of Jesus’ crucifixion, can also be used a marking that shows guilt - a scarlet letter, of sorts. While the idea of Kasher’s guilt has been discussed already, the implications of stigmata as the pain of crucifixion have not. For the extremely devout, to share the Jesus’ pain brings one closer to God. From this idea have sprung various extremist sects who practice self-flagellation and other means of self-inflicted pain or discomfort. This self-inflicted pain, later discussed again in “Art is Hard,” also feeds the fire for angst-ridden songwriters everywhere, even Kasher. In most cases, in the minds of fans, it also makes the artist more viable. No one wants to hear about a happy musician or a content artist.
While it may seem that Kasher is pretentiously comparing himself to Jesus Christ with his message and stigmata, this is not the case. Far from claiming to be a savior, Kasher is explaining that this song, this album, is a part of him, and he is giving it to his listeners and fans, much like the Gospels are a part of Jesus, and He shared it with His listeners. However, one must keep in mind that Kasher is essentially a satirist and that he already considers his genre of music and the church as elaborate con artists. While the end of the second verse may sound like a change of heart, it is simply a hyperbole, a grandiose embellishment that illustrates the absurdity of Kasher’s pain filled writings. While there is some truth and genuineness to Kasher’s pain, Kasher’s message remains the same: that the music scene and organized religion are largely elaborate cons.
Although music and religion according to Tim Kasher make an almost blasphemous parallel, one can see his point. Religion and music both evoke a fiery passion in people, and one must look past the graft and corruption to enjoy them to their fullest. “Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand” was expertly and cunningly written and, upon its analyzation, is satisfyingly thought provoking and insightful.
Anyway, done with that. I feel like I'm out of touch sometimes. I wish you'd tell me what was going on.