Brandon Flowers

Currently typing this post via my phone because 30 day challenge but also Comcast outage projected until 1:45am and I need to go to sleep with my fur pillow amazon.

Last night Lehsah, Shanu, and I went to see Brandon Flowers at the Fox in Oakland. He was *so* good. I’m a huge killers fan but I hadn’t heard much of his new stuff, only a couple of songs by way of accident / Shanu’s recs to me on one of our playlists. His solo stuff feels like an extension of his Killers canon, albeit he didn’t play anything from his first solo album (his latest is best described as a new age / electronically influenced sound).

I totally had a moment last night. Between songs he had described growing up in a (conservative Mormon) household where “people who do bad things are bad,” and how he eventually figured out that the world was a great deal wider than that. The following song was “Diggin’ Up The Heart” —

And when you finally put the asphalt to the tyre
Looks something like sistine
Or a fire
Ripping through the dark
He’s digging up the heart
Digging up the heart
Digging up the heart
Well it ain’t that strange
Any boy can change
Digging up the heart…

I like to think “any boy can change,” it’s such an important thing to believe in a world where so many live steeped in ignorance. I felt so kindred hearing this, having too emerged from the soulless husk that is a fundamentalist upbringing. Knowing that I have and can change helps me believe that everyone else can too.

He tempers that idealism with “Only the Young” —

Look back in silence
The cradle of your whole life
There in the distance
Losing its greatest pride
Nothing is easy, nothing is sacred, why?
Where did the bow break?
It happened before your time

Only the young can break away, break away
Lost when the wind blows, on your own
Only the young can break away, break away
Lost when the wind blows, on your own

That song makes me wonder whether my parents will ever come around to my way of thinking regarding what constitutes kindness, justice, and a good life.

It’s easy to be angry at injustice and ignorance, but it’s between hard and impossible to stop loving your parents even if they believe terrible things. Ironically I still love them because I don’t believe people who do/believe bad things are necessarily bad — “Where did the bow break? It happened before your time…”

Still I feel jealous of people with functional relationships with their parents, people who can be proud of where they came from. I only feel like I’ve escaped.

I’m hanging on to the end of this rope
Somewhere on the outskirts of hope
Life without you not around
Another kid in Lonely Town