It’s easier not to fly

The “sad” truth is that for every Beatles or U2 or Rolling Stones, there millions (hyperbolic? who knows) bands that toil away in anonymous but gleeful self-expression into the din of the eardrum-numbed night. Perhaps “sad” is presumptuous. Many small bands never had acclaim in their eyes. Expression and musical creativity might be a more important motivator than filled arenas for many musical groupings. Just cause I’m an anonymous blogger toiling away in obscurity does not mean everyone wants to share the same fate.

But I suspect many don’t care.

Bowery Electric, a NYC-based Shoegaze-y, Droneful, chantiferous band that stuck around 7 years (1993-2000), seemed more like a project, an artistic indulgence, than anything.

I was turned onto the band about 15 years ago, and in the time since I’ve built a large collection of their music. A chill playlist of blurry and vividly hazy nocturnes, I enjoy most of their tracks, but one that stands out the most (for myself) is “Fear Of Flying.”

Despite the video’s unsophisticated visualization of the song’s theme, the mantric lyrics, repetitious like a chant of self-awakening, are decidedly not about fear of airplanes.

The metaphor rings deeper.

We all get used to dreams
That used to please
We all get used to dreams
That used to please

We all get used to dreams
That used to please
We all get used to dreams
That used to please

We all get used to dreams that used to please.

Indeed. We become complacent in that which we desire and the dreams, the ambitions, the fantasy, that it can be real becomes a tether in itself, anchoring us from progress, from attainment. Whether we want to become a world-famous band, or author, the dream and personal aspiration of such presents us the danger of living out the alternate world by mental proxy. We never achieve in reality that which we experience in daydreams. And it’s almost real.

Human minds are designed to derive pleasure from images and imagination. The smoke of wants.

It’s easier not to fly.