La Noche Oscura De Alma

I've been in a deep, lethargic, incredibly frustrating spiritual rut as of late. Too much dry academics and tedious musiciancraft have stifled the spiritual blaze that glowed so warmly in me at one time. Pride and acedia have riddled my Walk, and passion seems to have taken a sabbatical.

I picked this up at a bookstore yesterday, and I plan on reading it either tonight or tomorrow. I figured it would be relevant. I'll post some musings on it later.

New Directions, And The Changes They Imply

I've decided that I want Eulogium to embark on a totally different journey than I had planned on before tonight. Until now, I wanted to explore the different subgenres and dark corners of black metal for its own sake, to prove that I, a Christian, could play the music too. I now find that prospect not so much untenable as undesirable. What's the good in fitting into the cookie cutter? Has this all not been done before?

It's time for something new, but in a sense, also very old. Black metal to me - and I am not wrong in saying this of others - evokes a sense of a spirituality and/or mysticism, an awesome presence that captures the metaphysical imagination. Some have done with it what they willed, taking their own convoluted preconceptions of Christianity and modernity (and usually a facile conflation of the two) and directed the energy toward hate and evil. Before black metal, however, there was another kind of sacred music - that of the early church, the remnants of which still echo in the naves of ancient cathedrals and domes of eastern churches. In our place and time it is often forgotten, replaced by the plastic and superficial 'worship' music of contemporary society - but it is not dead. The traditions live on in seclusion, but burn ever so brightly in the compositions of Pärt, Tavener, Górecki, Hovhaness, Messaien, and others. It is this return to the ancients, this nostalgia for a time when religion mattered subjectively, when it was lived without pretense but with passionate, heartfelt devotion, that inspires these great composers; a return to a time when faith was not plasticized by commercialistic capitalism or globalism, nor corrupted by indolence, nor abused by political power. On the cherubical wings of music many fly to a time when to be a Christian was to be authentic, to immerse oneself in the powerful mysteries of Christianity, and to realize that only a man with a purpose can be a Christian (a quote taken from Kierkegaard). It is on such wings that I hope to fly as well.

So, what shall we have then? I kind of recasting of sacred music, in both its other-worldly primitive form and its gigantic modern revisitation, through a black metal framework. This will be what unblack metal means to me, using the passion and intense engagement of black metal to understand and dialogue with the sublime and the holy.

This may mean I must prolong the future of Eulogium. The original plan was that I would record one more regular album, a concept album based on Kierkegaard's "Fear And Trembling," and then a funeral mass, symbolically signaling Eulogium's end (death). I've already begun to write music for the regular album, almost none of which exhibits the least influence from the sacred music I've just begun to listen to. If I wanted to make music more in the vein of sacred music, I would need a whole other album to orient myself. So I would add one more album to the future, for sure. I may need to change the concept album, too, to one that more suits the mood evoked by sacred music. "Fear And Trembling" is certainly a masterful and deeply religious work, but one that commands more awe than solemnity. Perhaps "The Sickness Unto Death" would be better, but that remains to be seen. Conveniently, this move toward sacred music conforms with the goal of a funeral mass album, and only enriches the nebulous ideas of it I had already conceived.

Another night, another epiphany. But it is not yet the appointed time to explore Eulogium as a single manifestation in the mountainous vault of sacred music. Tonight, and for the next few weeks, school shall be my primary commitment. And as I return to my Metaphysics paper, I bid you all good night/morning.

Cement Dries Behind The Eyes

That's kind of how it feels when forced to confront the great slab of responsibilities, held together by all the things that interest you. It's daunting, dwarfing, and makes you feel like sleeping all day so as to escape the dread of the task(s) at hand. It's how I've been feeling, lately. My university studies, my extracurricular studies - black metal theory, Kierkegaard, the Desert Fathers, Theomusicology, Musical Theology & Philosophy, etc - my musical endeavors (i.e. being a decent musician), my religious wandering in my dark night of the soul: they all feel overwhelming. It's hard being a college student with high academic hopes that extend beyond undergrad, as well as being the sole musician and ideologue of your musical project, the responsibilities of which you refuse to share with anyone else.

Pardon the whiny post. I just needed to get it out. Things haven't been too fun, and I feel a bit defeated.

More cheery posts to come in the following weeks.

Pardon me for jumping on the hipster bandwagon

But this song is amazing:



I must find more of his stuff.

On an unrelated note

I forgot how pleasant it is to listen to Xasthur when studying.

When Love Is Lost, Only Hate Will Remain

These lyrics from Antestor keep repeating in my head, tonight. Chiefly because I've been premeditating on what to post. This blog is becoming less of a Eulogium chronicle exclusively and more of a personal journal, but maybe that's inevitable. Eulogium is the vehicle for my utmost passion, and it would only seem appropriate that those moments in which passion is its highest would be deemed important enough to talk about here.

Love is absolutely not a topic explored in black metal. It could be largely said that black metal is in direct opposition of love, even an inversion of love into hate, for God is love. Curiously, talk about love is also somewhat unpopular in unblack metal, principally because unblack metal wrestles with a perceived black metal ethos while clutching onto a uniquely Christian hope, refusing to let go until black metal blesses it. Unblack simultaneously struggles with God through the arduous task of faith, and with man by walking down the valley of the shadow of death without fear, by being a stranger in a strange land.

But I am not talking about black metal nor unblack metal here, nor philosophy nor theology, nor theory nor exegesis. I am talking about love; I am talking about the image of God in which I, my beloved, and all of humanity was made. Two nights ago my girlfriend, whom I love ardently, was filled with disappointment at the loss of an academic opportunity, to to the point of tears. I laid with her in my arms as she cried and vented all the frustrations this lost opportunity gave birth to or resurrected; and I was powerless to do anything to solve the problem. I could only hold her and kiss her hair, regretting deeply that I could do nothing to retrieve the opportunity to her. I too shed tears, because her hurt became my hurt, her sense of hopelessness became my sense of hopelessness. I wanted to join her in that dark place of despair, because her gravity seemed to affect me too, and I know how lonely despair can be when faced alone.

But I realized that neither of us are helpful to each other at all if we are in the same sorry predicament. I needed to divorce my being from hers (a challenging task, to be sure), in order that the holy magnetism that brought our souls together in the first place would draw her out of that hole to where I was - a state of relative contentedness only maximized to eudaimonia when one joins one's beloved. So to compel her to resurrection from sorrow (a grave that we all must frequent) to happiness, I waited for her on the outside the next morning, with breakfast that I cooked as the media via, that she may venture to good spirits of her own accord. And praised be God, she did. I saw her beautiful and brave smile that morning and again that afternoon, the kind with radiant mettle, her finger beds dirtied with the sullen soil of the hole she climbed out of. And I was filled with joy when I saw her walking towards me after class, because I saw her trademark strength that stirs up in me an admiration that bolsters the mystery of love.

"Where love is lost, only hate remains," says Antestor. "He who cannot love is unhappiest of all," says Kierkegaard. Unhappiness leads directly to hate, and when one has tasted the sweetness of love (that is, the sweetness of God) one does not ever wish to have the taste stricken from his mouth. One only flies to hate through bitterness, through weakness and cowardice to scale the highest mountains for fear of the deepest pitfalls natural to our imperfection.

Blast Beats

Finally got the drum set up at the apartment. Time to get ready.

And just when I thought things were getting better for Christian and Muslim dialogue in the Egypt

I come across this story.

It was heartwarming to see Christians and Muslims united in the struggle for freedom and democracy, but it's devastating to see that now that the common enemy has been deposed of, religious dialogue is right back where it started.

God be with them all.

And I Will Show You The Faith That Underlies My Works

If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.

-James 1:26-27

Martin Luther called the Epistle of James an 'epistle of straw.' It happens to be one of my favorite epistles, because it strikes at the heart the Christian life as it is lived here and now. It is all well and good to talk of faith and saving grace, and to express the deep sentimental shift within, as if there was a tectonic drift in your heart. But what good is that, really, in the Christian life? Was Jesus primarily preoccupied with sentiments of grace? No, Jesus had not faith, but absolute certainty (he was God, after all), and from that point he led a life of both words and deeds. People came looking for him on account of the many wonders he worked, but when he spoke, they were all spellbound. But he was not concerned with idle talk or righteousness contests, and argued about theological matters only when they were an imposition on his works.

Now certainly none of us are Christ, and all fall short of his glory (Rom. 3:23). We will never have the certainty that he did, for as humans the greatest movement to make is one of faith, which presupposes objective uncertainty by definition. But if we as Christians are called to imitate Christ, what good is it to spend tremendous effort 'debunking' other theologies and proving why we are right, while putting little to no effort into helping the downtrodden and the suffering? Indeed, a few verses before the quoted passage from James, it says "A man who listens to God's word but does not put it into practice is like a man who looks into a mirror at the face he was born with: he looks at himself, then goes off and promptly forgets what he looks like" (1:23-24). How often do we look at our brothers and sisters, seeing in them the same Image of God in which we ourselves were made, and then go away and promptly forget that Image in them? How often do we neglect to take care of our neighbors in their distress? Are we so quick to forget that what we refuse to do for the least of us, we refuse to do for God himself?

Jesus spent his time healing and listening to those less fortunate than we. As Christianity is a call to imitation and thus to action, we have less need of vain talk than of action, here and now. The moment we believe we've got it right and are complacent in our pride and assurance, we lose sight of the mission, which must be from within ourselves, and from there move outward to others. We need to bridle our tongues from self-righteous speech, and act for those in need.

Ash Wednesday

For many Christian traditions, today is Ash Wednesday, the official beginning of the season of Lent. It is the beginning of a long and solemn meditation wherein the faithful practice abstinence, fasting, and repentance - a kind of modern day lay asceticism designed to refocus everyone's attention to the Lord. As Job says in 42:3-6

"I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth thee. The other eye wandereth of its own accord. Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.

One need not 'abhor oneself' to rightly partake in the fast. One simply must be cognizant of one's downfalls in religious devotion, something to every single person.

The Lenten tradition is to give up something, usually a sort of luxury. But I wonder, what is the good of excising a tumor or malignant growth from your body, but not treating and covering the wound? Will it not just get infected with another kind of filth? Similarly, if we give something up for Lent, but don't replace it with some kind of devotional practice, what really is the point? You'd be no better off than had you not given anything up at all! If your right hand is your downfall and you cut it off, isn't it all for naught if you should partake in your downfall with your left?

This year, I've given up some social networking sites for Lent. I find myself sitting at the screen for hours, blank faced and jaw agape. It seems as both eyes have wandered not only from God, but from those worldly things that are good, like school and my studies. Giving up these sites is only the first step in the Lenten process: it's not an end-all-be-all. The second step is a continual one, one in which the action is consistently taken and retaken. It requires vigilance, reverence and humility, and as concomitant to the latter, patience. It takes determination and patience to pray, as well as to study. Herein lies the true asceticism of Lent - not in the negative rescinding of worldly desires, but in taking up one's cross and walking for 40 days. This is the trial and I hope to come out spiritually alive. Most people don't.

Pray for me.

Dominus Vobiscum

Sometimes

It's kind of disheartening the rate at which black metal grows and gets progressively better. After hearing this band, I am almost tempted to give up. They're really good:

Vade Retro Satana

Vade retro Satana!
Nunquam suade mihi vana!
Sunt mala quae libas.
Ipse venena bibas!

Doors of Perception

Black metal today is not the black metal of the early 90s. It is not an adolescent revolt against death metal musicians wearing surfer shorts, nor merely an expression of teen angst. As black metal has evolved musically, it has matured lyrically, the trend being an abandonment of mindless calls to abusive fornication with goats and central religious figures in Christianity, and the traversing of a deep expanse of subjects steeped more in reflection than in barbarism, such as postmodern continental philosophy and particularly medieval theology. As more and more bands in the genre seem to be choking on the dust of lyrically sophisticated bands like Deathspell Omega and Krallice, it seems as if the genre as a whole, complete with its different ideological offshoots, desperately needs to play catch up.

Since its popularization in the 90s, black metal has been in large part musically and lyrically derivative, a game of qualitative copy-catting where the band that does it best is regarded as the best band, period. In the last few years, however, there seems to have been something of a paradigm shift. Bands all over the world, particularly in France and in the States, have been taking the old formula, excising the beaten and worn components, and injecting stylistic and musical elements hitherto unheard in black metal. Some replace the old parts with enhanced versions, like punk drumming and tremeloed chords. Others augment the engine with post-rock riffing and ambient orchestrations. As black metal is arguably a genre where music and lyrics and necessarily inseparable, it seems only natural that lyrical transformation would follow musical renovation concomitantly.

I think this poses a significant challenge to unblack metal, and therefore to Eulogium. Kierkegaard says that faith presupposes doubt, since one must first have doubted before believing. Doubt is the exercise of the rational faculties, and anyone who is rational must see the truth of Christianity as something which is inherently doubtful. Faith is a leap, a commitment in the face of uncertainty; but how are we to know uncertainty if we never consider the opposing views? Are we being faithful, or merely credulous? Unblack metal has been locked in a screaming match with black metal since 1994, forcefully arguing for its own ideology as heedlessly as its secular counterpart. But black metal, as already stated, is different now. It no longer consists of the tantrums of indolent youths, but is glaring with the sardonic decorum truly exemplary of a satan, of an adversary. Black metal forces us to come to grips with the likes of Bataille, Nietzsche, Derrida, and other philosophers who would see our religion annihilated. It compels us to look at our theologies and doctrines and discern their terrifying inexactitudes, and at our scriptures in all their contradictory multi-dimensionality. Ultimately what black metal does is shove us face to face with all that seems obviously wrong and evil about Christianity, the natural consequence of following a God who is dead. Black metal is the fountain of doubt.

But if faith presupposes doubt, and we never come to doubt on a metaphysical level, how can we have faith? Are we simply seeing no doubt, speaking no doubt, and hearing no doubt? Are we just plugging our fingers in our ears and screaming to drown out the noise, too scared that we might lose not our faith, since faith was never there, but our credulity? If we are too scared to walk in the valley of the shadow of death, then have we faith? I don't think that unblack musicians and fans can escape this potentially perilous journey into the void, as it were, and that we must confront our simultaneously ancient yet postmodern problems without simply retreating to our customs and traditions for safety. How could we ever be taken seriously if we cannot take ourselves and our God seriously?

Studying continental philosophy in college in the states, where analytic philosophy is supreme, is admittedly difficult. Studying theology is even harder. But we should dare to embark on the journey somehow if we ever hope to leap to faith from crumbling precipice of doubt.

The suicide of void is Being.