Jello There!
That greeting is the hot catch phrase of a guy named Otto is working his way through an old cookbook of Jello recipes and documenting it on Instagram. It’s a hoot and should have tenfold the followers it has now.
I can’t believe how I’ve been slacking on this newsletter. Sorry. Since I last sent one, I went to Dayton to see the greatest band in the land celebrate its fortieth anniversary (measuring time from first gig). It was life-affirming and wonderful. Was nice to celebrate the occasion with two thousand other fans from Australia, New Zealand, Finland, Canada, England, Belgium and a lot of states. We’re lucky we’re devoted to an artist who gives so damn much.
I’m one book away from completing my 2023 Reading Challenge of 43 books. I chose the number 43 as a goal because it’s less than 52 so it’s almost a book a week with enough fallback. It was not deliberately chosen in honor of this issue’s song. But a delightful coincidence anyway.
Song #36
Hymn 43
by Jethro Tull
I can’t backtrack to a specific memory that explains how “Hymn 43” got my attention and kept it. It surprises 2023 me I picked a song by Jethro Tull. The first thing I remember is how silly the line “snot is hanging down from his nose” was from their song “Aqualung,” an opinion I’ve had for forty-three years. Above all, it’s the guitar line and palm muted strum after that serves as the chorus that I love.
Classic rock is now the soundtrack for the status quo. That’s funny because the lyrics for lots of these songs, and rock and roll itself, were purportedly about challenging the system, but a large number of people who now crelish denying rights and opportunities to others will still sing along to “Fortunate Son” or “Born In The USA” without a second thought. The crowd who’d now go see Jethro Tull in concert (is that happening?) would likely attend a megachurch and Trump rally right after.
Have they listened to the lyrics of “Hymn 43”? The blunt and angry lyrics would not be out of place on an album by a 1980’s American hardcore punk band, railing about the genocides of the British (and American) Empire in the name of a white supremacist god. The hypocrisy of Christians is a subject that’s been hammered on over and over. Off the top of my Brillo pad (with a bald spot)head, I can think of XTC’s “Dear God,” “Thoughts and Prayers” by Drive-By Truckers, and Black Sabbath’s banger “Dear Father.”
The cliche “If Jesus came back and saw what these so-called followers were doing, he’d soil his sandals” has been said (and provoked by horrific preachings and actions) so many times that its truth has been de-barbed from overuse. The big thing about Hymn 43 is Ian Anderson goes after Jesus Harold Christ himself. Only two other works have surprised me with their heretical views. One is Borges’s short story in the guise of an article “The Three Versions of Judas,” posits that Judas must be the Messiah because he made a larger sacrifice than Jesus with an act that was foretold and with consequences he knew. The other work is Dali and Bunuel’s surrealist film L’Age D’or with an ending so shocking I don’t want to spoil, but implies that indulging in depravity leads to saintliness.Anderson’s screed is that deeds under the guise of Christianity are so bad, it’s gotta mean that Christ didn’t start off as perfect as we’re taught. It’s not hypocrisy to be fought, it’s the whole teaching within the Gospels and those weird dispatches from Paul, the first “what Jesus really meant was…” guy.
The best thing is how free of arena rock indulgences “Hymn 43” is. Anderson belts out “Our Father high in heaven” immediately — that substitute of high for “who art” in the Lord’s Prayer, really gets at the distance between the ideals of religion and the world down here— and doesn’t stop haranguing until he blows that trademark flute for a mercifully few seconds at the end.
Of course, no one can be totally judged by their admirers. Ian Anderson shouldn’t answer for Jethro Tull. Hell, a good many fans think his name is Jethro. A plea for a more just church in Galilee and Judea shouldn’t have resulted in two millennia of fitful confusing history, but yet it has. Jesus save me. Buh buh buh duh duh duhhhhh, ch-chug chug ch-chug chug ch-chug chug
And that’s how the jello jiggles
This issue’s Song I’m Mad I Forgot To Put On The List is “Knock Knock” by Monica. Twenty years ago, Ye and Missy Elliott teamed up to make the catchiest music for this jam. Talk about separating art from the artist.
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Spot on, mate!