Slightly Tilted

Alright, a song brings me to this post.  "Hand-me-down Tune" by the Avett Brothers, specifically.  Here are the lyrics.  Refer back to them as necessary.  I hope it's not illegal to post these; Avett Bros, please do not sue me, we can talk these things out.  Anyhow.

 

I dreamt of a suit a suit so fine I dressed my words in
Sewn and tailor made with song in mind made of melody
Stitched by threads of notes with perfect pitch, perfectly composed
Sound in tune and key, a code of rhythm, and harmony
But when I awoke my coat was worn and my words were plain
Each song that I sang all the notes were wrong and poorly played
Both my sleeves had holes, my knees were patched, my shoes needed soles
No clever disguise no way to hide my offensive tone

But I, I wish for you more than I can give, than I can do
Yeah you, you deserve the best an anthem not my hand-me-down tune
Yeah you, you deserve the best an anthem not my hand-me-down tune

 

What about this song would coerce, no, inspire me to dialog to a computer?  The song's appeal to redemption.  

Jesus Juke?

No, not at all.  At least, that's not the intention.  But I will nonetheless speak of Christ, just so you know.

Maybe a little preface, first.  T'was the construction/development of our own little art theory and aesthetic theory by Jeff and myself that put me into a mindset conducive to what I'm planning on writing about.  The theory, though I don't want to go into great detail, as there is not much detail as of yet, and I don't want you to steal it... Just joking... But don't.  I'll find you.  But in a nutshell, Jeff and I have tentatively proposed that art is anything that challenges your perception of the Perfect, or Ideal.  

The implications of that run deep and will require much more thought and development through dialectic.  How does this relate to this song?  Well, it started with how well I believe the artist has interwoven the content of the song, so as to communicate the feeling of its message lyrically, melodically, and emotionally (which every song ought to do....).  Which then led me to sit and chew on what the Avett Brothers, or at least the writer if that be outside the group, is, well, mourning about.  Maybe not weeping.  Maybe not cursing and waving his fists at the sky.  But it's certainly melancholy.  Certainly worth noting, and I indeed appreciate this definition, the definition of "melancholy": a sober thoughtfulness; pensiveness.

Sober thoughtfulness... that's it.  That's what the song is.  

The speaker sings in sober thoughtfulness over what he wishes he could do, of what he feels ought to be.  He sees himself doing everything perfectly; feels the perfect lyric slide from his vibrating vocal cords; senses the steely coarseness of the guitar string skillfully, emotionally, correctly, satisfyingly plucked; hears the pitch of his voice sliding into harmony with the guitar.  But not just in harmony with the instrument, but with the lyric Itself.  It all returns home.

 

Yes.  His senses, primary and secondary, dependent and independent, harmoniously join to experience a galactic phenomenon, of sorts,  But any aligning of mere planets, which are but lifeless rocks, pales in comparison to her maiden, the aligning of words to action to thought to feeling to expression.  This, this release of tension, that is what I perceive to be the subject of the song.  Thought I may as well say, every song.  Though I may as well say, everything.

The song grieves.  

The singer grieves.  

The speaker grieves.  

We grieve.

Grief over that tension.  Grief over that internal sense of eternity not being fulfilled.  Grief over the suspended chord that awaits its resolution.  Sure, that grief may not always be, though I hope it sometimes is and grows into, a wailing lament.  Melancholy is probably the most accurate definition of that grief.  Sober thoughtfulness.

That is the experience of the Christian.  Wailing.  When not wailing, sober thoughtfulness.

 

Check the song... grief.

 

Check yourself... grief.

 

Grief over what you are.  Grief over who you are not.  

Aspirations just don't seem to materialize.  Thoughts seem to be slightly tilted.  The world is not what it indeed ought.  Your dreams fizzle as the when you finally shake the morning, sleepy daze.  That in itself is reversed.  Perfection ought not fade as you awaken, but solidify.  That is the corruption of the world; that is the dissonance; that is the tiltedness.

Christ is the correction.  Christ is the resolution;  Christ is the fulfillment.  That is this Redemption of which he sings.