I can’t definitively explain why the masses besmirch LA. Personally, I think it’s based on jealousy. I envision cold-climate easterners, huddled in heavy blankets in front of their TVs watching a Sofi Stadium football game, wishing they, too, could bask in the warmth of the winter sun’s rays. Let’s face it, not every city boasts a majestic mountain range, white sand beaches, world-class entertainment, and pretty people from all over the globe. We’re an easy target.
It’s common to bash LA and call it “La-La Land” as if people here carry as much substance as a superficial ditty, the “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” of metropolitan America. Need I remind the public that some of the world’s greatest scientific discoveries—from astronomy to computer technology—came out of LA? That the concept of suburbia was invented in LA? That Los Angeles has always been home to spiritual seekers of all faiths? If shallow people live here, they probably moved from another place.
In days ahead, I’m sure to continue this analysis on why LA gets short shrift from intellectual, academic, and athletic quarters, but for now I’d like to ask a question: Why did you stay in LA? Family, friends, employment? The climate, sports, concerts? Did you ever try to or actually leave, and are you happy you stayed?
Let’s see where this informal survey takes us. Please post your sentiments, answering some, all, or none of the above questions. I look forward to finding out the reasons you ended up in LA.
Together we can learn about our city, our culture, and ourselves.
Time, a complicated concept, defies explanation. We can define it, categorize it, and break it down into miniscule pieces. We can amuse and confuse ourselves with mental gymnastics, employ scientific analysis, and pretend our ability to measure it is synonymous with understanding it. But our limited minds can’t expand enough to fully grasp its meaning.
We pretend time is linear, though we know it bends. We treat it like a stream, but it often feels like a wide, deep lake. We could spend years studying quantum mechanics, philosophy, and spirituality and leave with more questions than when we came.
Since it’s impossible to process with our limited brains, let’s turn to the arts. Music, perhaps better than anything, possesses the power to point past the stars into the true nature of our beings. We can’t reduce it to a formula or ascribe it to reason or rationality, but we feel a sublime knowingness when we resonate with the sound of universal truth.
What do the lyrics of the rock canon from the last sixty years tell us about the illusion of time? What songs helped you make peace with this unfathomable construct? Consider this a jumping-off point. Maybe we can untangle the crossed wires of creation to grok what’s beyond the given.
Perhaps Pete Seeger’s or the Byrds’ rendition of “Turn! Turn! Turn!” made an impact. You can’t do better than quoting Ecclesiastes. This reflection on the swift passing of the seasons, in both literal and metaphorical senses, reminds me not to fight the tide. You can’t rush ripeness on a berry or prematurely peel the skin off a snake. Everything has its moment by divine design.
As a child of the seventies, I think of Led Zeppelin in “Kashmir” and “The Rover” and the way they address the transient state of our existence. And of course the Rolling Stones come to mind. “Time Waits for No One” delivers a dose of humility from the world’s biggest rock star.
Any comments on this topic would be remiss without a mention of Pink Floyd’s spacey ode to “Time.” There’s also Neil Young’s simple “Sugar Mountain,” which inspired Joni Mitchell’s sagacious “Circle Game.” David Bowie got it right with “Changes,” in which he noted our inability to track the elusive energy that shapes our fate. But lest I get accused of nostalgic overload, let’s close with a mention of the Foo Fighters’ “Times like These.”
On June 15, 2021, my wife and I got lucky enough to see the first Foo Fighters concert in the post-lockdown age. The show took place at the Canyon Club, probably the smallest venue they’ve ever played. To enter, we had to wade between megaphone-wielding morons screaming how we’d be killed by the vaccine. You could feel exhilaration, relief, and overwhelming joy when the Foos opened with “Times.” Cruel irony: less than a year later, sweet madman drummer Taylor Hawkins succumbed to a drug overdose.
The impossible task of finding definitive meaning in the dynamics of inexplicable forces can never be completed. But let’s work together to glean insight into the human condition.
Please post your own reflections on the tunes that helped you through.
In the meantime, let’s take Bill Haley’s suggestion and “Rock around the Clock.”