Oh Liberal Don't You Weep No More....

This weekend I took in Bruce Springsteen's Seeger Sessions show. As a closet folkie, I was glad to hear the music played with such passion, and glad to see a performer of the Boss' heft take an interest in reclaiming our roots.

The concert came at the end of a week in which we saw progressive Democrats on both coasts attempt to build momentum for a truly progressive candidate. At the same time, the self anointed frontrunners were busy moderating themselves into oblivion. Its never a pretty sight. I couldn't help but think that the Democrats need to listen to "Eyes on The Prize", a civil rights era anthem:

The only thing I did wrong/Was stayin' in the wilderness too long ...

The one thing we did was right/ Was the day we started to fight.

Maybe a quick read of the full lyrics, or a thorough read of the book by the same name will help our so-called contenders muster a brand of courage they have not yet displayed.

The other thing that struck me about the show was the degree to which we have lost the language of our common dreams and virtues. Folk music played an integral role in the labor struggle and later the peace movement. Gospel was at the core of the civil rights movement. Both genre's celebrate the notion that their are better days ahead if we insist on them. Both genres provided a way for people to talk about things they are often inarticulate about: justice, compassion, and community. The last of these is particularly important because we Americans now have very few avenues to talk about our collective dreams, duties and aspirations. These concepts are just not part of our vernacular anymore. They have been replaced by efficiency, competition, and the ownership society.

That's not to say music has lost all social consciousness. Unfortunately, the socially conscious music of my era has been either overly aggressive and nihlistic (punk) or far too intimidating and inaccessible for the middle class majority (rap). Pop music, which keeps its eye on the least common denominator, simply recalls the painfully individual quests for true love, true fucking, or really nice stuff.

Religion, simillarly, no longer fuels our common fire. It is far too wedded to the interests of power, and long ago gave up any pretense of moving the meek to the head of the societal line. It has lately devolved into a blunt weapon used to smite political opponents or a balm to soothe individual wounds.

Politics is right out too as any way of talking about the collective we. For the last twenty years our leaders have told us that their really is no common interest;just a mass of individual interests, which if left unfettered and untaxed, will lift all our boats. Too many people who know better still believe this and our government has devolved into a trough at which the invited can feed. Outside the realm of the military, the notion of the national interest or the collective welfare is marginalized at best, mocked at worst.

But the thing that I owe Mr. Springteen is, that in spite of all this, he reminded me that talking about the collective we and imagining ourselves as part of something bigger than ourselves -- something with a moral identity -- feels good. It exercises some important muscles. It fills our tubercular lungs with some clean air. Hope springs eternal.