Those Who Can Imagine The Future . . .

Apropos of this post, and the ensuing modest discussion, I want to pull out an image from the way-back machine:


McSweeny’s 14 was published in the fall of 2004, when Teh Greatest War Evah! was not even two years old. Back then, no one could have imagined that an endless stream of Friedman Units would keep us waging war on Iraqis for what will be at least another four and a half years (we’ll still be waging war on Inauguration Day, 2009, and depending on who the next President is, for 100 to 10,000 years after). No one could have imagined, of course, except for artists; writers, musicians, painters, etc. Because they, as compared to the members of the Media-Political Industrial Complex, have imagination and a much better understanding of just what it means to have a soul. Without that imagination, the only thing that matters is to win, because might makes right, and being right about anything means being right and good about all things. At least in one’s own mind. So, we will never be governed by artists.


I'm a composer and musician, and I write about music—I do that here, for the New York Classical Review, at the Brooklyn Rail (I edit the music section there) and any place else that will have me, like New Music Box and Music & Literature. I also wrote the Miles Davis' Bitches Brew book in the 33 1/3 series.