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[Source – Pixabay]
The hero is in hiding, asleep, has forgotten or has been brainwashed because only that could explain the hero’s silence; the dead silence is complementing the darkness ostentatiously.
And no surprise, right? This darkness is overwhelming, too huge, so vast, damn cruel, heartless/soulless, steady and conniving that the heroes have all locked themselves up in the epics, legends and myths.
Dejected and weak they have turned their backs, criticising the critics, they hopelessly work to earn a living, measuring their quiet success every fiscal year, waiting for the golden retirement when they will finally wake up… or maybe they will not.
Regina Spektor is calling out to all the heroes to wake up, rise and fight, to accept the responsibilities of actions they so unconsciously take, to wage a war against inequality one little step at a time.
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Listen to Apres Moi before reading further –
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I (uh) must go on standing
Regina Spektor
You can’t break that which isn’t yours
I (uh) must go on standing
I’m not my own, it’s not my choice
Be afraid of the lame, they’ll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they’ll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they’ll inherit your blood
Apres moi le deluge, after me comes the flood…
Revolutions, the downfall of monarchies, totalitarian leaders, genocides… mankind’s history is a presence in the absence, it is ever-looming, reminding us of the foundation on which we are now building smart castles (with Alexa or Google Nest Hub or the gadget you prefer).
Apres moi le deluge is a French phrase that means ‘after me, the flood’ and is attributed to Louis XV of France; one of the explanations suggest its nihilistic connotation that says, ‘Ruin, if you like, when we are dead and gone’ and the other links it with Halley’s comet and the impending French Revolution of 1789.
Here, Regina Spektor talks about the far-reaching presence of history and how we cannot ignore it for long.
She sings a few lines of a Russian poem when reaching the crescendo; it is a poem by Nobel laureate Boris Pasternak, titled ‘February’ –
Black spring! Pick up your pen, and weeping,
Translated by Lydia Pasternak Slater, Boris’s sister
Of February, in sobs and ink,
Write poems, while the slush in thunder
Is burning in the black of spring.
An intense song that resonates across and holds your thoughts, it seems as if the song is urging us folks to stand up against the odds without delay, asking us folks not to mellow down.
Listen to Us –
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They made a statue of us
They made a statue of us
The tourists come and stare at us
The sculptor’s mama sends regards
They made a statue of us
They made a statue of us
Our noses have begun to rustWe’re living in a den of thieves
Regina Spektor
Rummaging for answers in the pages
We’re living in a den of thieves
And it’s contagious
And it’s contagious…
Thieves are untied clandestinely, inconspicuously, invincibly, heartily like no other group on this planet, working religiously, solely for their profit.
The one charismatic, luring fact, among other things, is the freedom they give to every individual thief, showing no concern for each other, but keeping a check and standing in solidarity if the deal is profitable.
Regina Spektor rightly diagnosed this behaviour as contagious; the song is giving a warning, it is a reminder. Wake up dear heroes, at least to rub off the rust on your noses.
Listen to Small Bills –
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His destiny was just too big to spend
Regina Spektor
So he broke it into smaller bills and change
By the time he’d try to buy the things he needed
He had spent it all on Lucy’s and weed and
He had spent it all on chips and Coca-Cola
He had spent it all on chocolate and vanilla
He had spent it all and didn’t even feel it…
May the heroes win the peculiar, surreal, boorish individual battles that they are fighting again and again and again.
Listen to Hero –
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Hey, open wide, here comes
Original sin
(Vrrr)
Hey, open wide, here comes
Original sinIt’s alright, it’s alright
It’s alright, it’s alright…I’m the hero of the story
Regina Spektor
Don’t need to be saved…
Listen to this song when the sky is orange-pink, dimly twinkling, armouring up for the dark night; listen to this song when the sky is whitish-blue, brightly warm, breathing lightly, gently healing the hero.
Read more –
Alex Millar’s translation of the poem February.
Lessons in Creativity I Learned from Regina Spektor by Caitlin Cowan.
R
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