Stretched supernovas sizzle across the night sky and erupt into a kaleidoscope of colors, the display usually synchronized to a paint-by-numbers song from a bygone age. Dogs shiver. Dogs howl. Allen Ginsberg had it wrong when he claimed that the best minds of his generation were destroyed by madness. They weren’t the best (or worst), just hurt. Damaged. Heartbroken. The whys are understandable to all but the history averse, I think, with the rockets’ red glare of conformity comforting some and scaring others.
To lean on an aphorism penned by French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr in 1849, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Every generation experiences heartache. Every generation faces upheaval. And, to borrow a line from Paul Simon, “every generation sends a hero up the pop charts.” There’s always right and wrong, of course, and there are always songs that delineate the emotional underpinnings of everything.
Last week, Lillian Leadbetter—one of my favorite young(ish) singer-songwriters—released “Fourth of July,” the latest single from her forthcoming album. She explained on Instagram that it “began as a response to the complex transition from anger and resentment to relief and gratitude.” It’s a lush, hushed and spellbinding look at a wounded heart, one that resonates deep in the soul.
The Old Grey Cat 