Musings on Autumn
The Passage of Time
Autumn is that time of year when one can feel the passage of time. The world grows old before our eyes and the days shorten. The afternoon light grows weaker. It seems appropriate to reflect upon the passing time in November, when the year is coming to an end, with a finality which reminds us of our brevity.
More and more, I notice the passing of time. I notice that the world I knew as a child is gone, not because time has left it in the past, but because memories are already fading and the rising generation has little sense of it. Commentators today can make statements about events (9/11, the 2004 election, Hurricane Katrina, the 2008 election) which I know to be false from having lived through them, and yet there are many who simply believe what they are told because they have no reason not to do so. I won’t dwell on this example, but in my experience the average person under twenty-five doesn’t know the difference between the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, a difference which is quite important when you understand the different reasons why we entered each of them and why Iraq was as controversial as Afghanistan was popular.
In my article this summer on writing advice, I quoted Jack White, identifying him as “of the White Stripes.” Later, I realized this dated me as a Millennial. Only the oldest members of Gen Z will remember the White Stripes, which broke up in 2011. If they know him at all, Gen Z will only know White as a solo performer, especially since he just had his first ever number one single (on the alternative airplay chart) as a solo performer. It’s amazing that the guy who gave us “Seven Nation Army” over two decades ago is still going strong. As weird as he is, Jack White is keeping rock alive.
Which, as strange as it is to say it, appears to be doing quite well. For a couple decades there, it looked like hip hop and pop had conspired to kill off rock and roll, but in the digital age there’s been a resurgence, both in the popularity of classic acts and in the revival of a vibrant underground scene. Indie rock has come out of its phases and seems to be entering an era of less drama and more variety. You’re as likely to hear a new band cite influences from the ‘70s as you are to hear them play something which sounds like it couldn’t have been written without the internet. A radioman recently described a band as playing “straight-up, no-nonsense rock and roll” and that sounded about right to me. We may still call it alternative, but most acts are more interested in playing good music than being pretentious.
Amazingly, many of the old acts are still going strong. The Rolling Stones are still out there. Hell must have frozen over because Guns N’ Roses is back together (although China still hasn’t experienced democracy). Iggy Pop put out a new album (with songs as in-your-face vulgar as one would imagine a 77-year-old Iggy Pop would produce). Judas Priest put out a new album. Pearl Jam put out a new album. It’s amazing to think that Pearl Jam is old now. Green Day and the Red-Hot Chili Peppers play on classic hits stations.
If we turn from music to television, though, it’s a different story. Streaming services are losing money and the industry could consolidate in the coming years. There is more than ever to watch and less reason than ever to sit down and watch it. Every streaming service makes its own “content,” and the overuse of that word, content, tells you everything you need to know. This is material to fill the hours. It is something to keep you engaged without engaging you. You can film yourself watching it and post it to TikTok, where you will find a community of people who all watch the same show, even though nobody in your hometown has ever heard of it.
Television bores me, so I will turn to literature. 2023 brought the passing of Cormac McCarthy, and it seems every year more giants are felled by time and age. As I wrote at the time, I thought The Passenger and Stella Maris were quite good, proof McCarthy still had it even at the end. There are a few writers left of McCarthy’s stature, though not many. Too often, the ones who are acclaimed as “the voice of a generation,” and “the conscience of a nation,” are vapid discourse novelists whose work is designed more to be praised than to be praiseworthy. Still, I suppose that has been true in every age.
Social media has added a new dimension to the “important” book (i.e., the books our betters tell us we need to read because of the “impact” they are supposedly having in our culture). It isn’t just the important book or the important show anymore, but the one everyone is buzzing about online. And yet, when we do go online, we discover that the internet has grown so balkanized that “everyone” isn’t buzzing about it, only a small subset of everyone.
The internet is a weird and often dark place, full of odd corners and dimensions spinning off in every direction. Some lament the balkanization (the loss of a common culture), but if we lived in the 1950s, those people would have been complaining about homogenization. As technology changes, the channel in which we swim grows sometimes narrower and shallower and sometimes deeper and wider. There are upsides and downsides to both, but I would rather live in a more interesting world than a narrower one, and I would rather live in an age where nobody has a monopoly over the means of communication.