nobody and the art of moral surveillance
Welcome to a world where cement grows taller with age, walnut shells double as pirate ships and trailer parks shimmer in an eternal eerie beauty. Yes, step lively into a world where ants seem to have more on the ball (and more to offer) than angry soccer moms who "don't need a dad to make a boy into a man" as they drive their "sports utility wagons" without emotion and feeling. Watch your step in this world which has at its center, a comfort (and safety) that can be found in honest resentment, a never-ending supply of good, old-fashioned pangs and articles of clothing that conceal life-threatening and life-giving weapons. In short, take care in a world wherein, as Melville writes, there is "some certain significance in all things, else all things are little worth, and the round world itself but an empty cipher...."
Welcome to the world of nobody, the musical conglomeration of people, places and things that grow more talented, assured and necessary with each new musical release. Although their name may indicate otherwise, one is never alone (or too far from help) when one is in the company of nobody. But, what exactly is nobody, aside form a musical conglomeration? Well, as the liner notes of their latest tape, "binkyspoominneep" indicate, "nobody is a state of mind." That very well may be true, yet the world of nobody has many "states". Take, for instance the state which is inhabited by the people (places and things) in the inviting song "nouns." Here, one is reminded that the "only kind of changin' that you'll ever do is on you." The simple philosophy at the core of "nouns" (which is a wonderful set-opening song if there ever was one) extends to all situations of life including acceptance of rush-hour traffic ("slow down and give some room"), acceptance of harsh weather ("you can try to make it stop or turn and let it go") and appreciation of perspective ("a burden or a blessing is in how you look at it"). Or, take the contrasting state of affairs that can be found within the song "everyday violent". Instead of slowing down behind the wheel as was suggested in "nouns", the "white-knuckle" drivers here cut people off and push their way "to the front." And, instead of appreciating the beauty of all things in nature, the "everyday violent" people "talk behind everybody's back." One final state (though certainly not the last) that is to be found on "binkyspoominneep" occurs in the song, "trailer park." The "rest-room romance" that is described here in this world of "small town intelligence" manages to blossom and thrive amidst (or in spite of?) the "disposable culture.....and the fresh smell of diesel in the breeze." And the bottles that are used as crutches along with the plastic carnations from the "Texaco station" do nothing to exstinguish the continual whiteness of the trailer park. It is as if the denizens of the "white" trailer park, in their stubborn and misdirected arrogance, hold onto and gather strength from that whiteness that ceaselessly shines "long after it's dark."
A more important (and troubling) question arises, however, when we as outsiders reflect on our own mixed emotions regarding the trailer park. In short, why do we find this world so strangely alluring when we can see the squalor defined by the "cigarette smoke hurricane" within? What is it about the whiteness of the trailer park that grabs us? It is somewhat comforting that Melville himself noticed the peculiarity of the color white yet, he too, could not quite solve the puzzling question of whiteness which nobody addresses. Of the mysteriousness of the color, he asks: (the italics are mine)
Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe, and
thus stabs us from behind with the thought of
annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the
milky way? Or is it, that as in essence whiteness is not so
much a color as the visible abscence of color, and at the same time the concrete of all colors; is it for these reasons
that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a
wide landscape of snows-a colorless, all-color of atheism
from which we shrink?
If we apply Melville's questions to nobody's "trailer park" an odd picture emerges. Is the trailer park in essence, not so muc a visible community but rather the phyical embodiment of the absence of community? And is the trailer park in all of its "dumb blankness, full of meaning" really an inviting landscape from which we truly and physically shrink? And if so, why? Perhaps we have more in common with the citizens of the "trailer park" than we care to admit or worse, acknowledge? These issues may be troubling for some, yet nobody doesn't seem overly alarmed. After all, they sing, "I hope that there is life after the trailer park." Maybe, we just think too much?
Musically speaking, "binkyspoominneep" is very ambitious indeed. The "players" include such characters as Lonnie Mouse and Vernal Corn and the instruments range from the predictable harmonica, to the heretofore unheard of didjeridoo. Predictability and anonymity notwithstanding, the music works extremely well to both engage and distract the listener. From the static angriness of "angry soccer moms" to the jauntiness of "who told freddie" and finally to the buginess of "ant world", nobody drags you into thier world where amino acids sound pretty and something as routine as a visit to the soda machine provokes thought. Too, if you like "Xuxa" by Something Happens, then you'll take to "resentment" immediately, which has a similar swing. There is also the acapella effort, "pangs #212" which opens "binkyspoominneep" and the country-esque "dress" which is so inviting that it almost gently sways you past the rather strange subject matter which concerns itself with strong knees and assorted, concealed body parts.
What nobody has attempted and achieved on "binkyspoominneep" is rather courageous and important although i doubt nobody would agree. Yet, by fusing word and music together and thus focusing their lens on their world, nobody forces the listener to use her/his mind and look through that lens as well. That is no small feat. For, even Wordsworth recognized the importance of such an act:
The mind of Man is fram'd even like the breath
And harmony of music. There is a dark
Invisible workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements and makes them move
In one society.
True, Wordsworth realized that the mind of man/woman is framed within a given society, yet nobody optimistically takes that picture of the mind one step further in the song, "trailer park" in which they sing,
It's not important, how important you are
If your mind is peaceful, then you've got it all.
Perhaps one major question should be asked though: Why should we care about nobody's world? After all, who really cares about paper plates, ants, amino acids and angry soccer moms? Aren't there more important things to worry about? Actually, no. For, all of these seemingly little things make up nobody's world which (whether we care to admit it or not) is our world. Make no mistake however; nobody's world is, indeed, flawed. Destruction, despair, abuse, neglect, disenchantment and immorality are all to be found in nobody's world. But, beauty, acceptance, forgiveness, redemtion and love reside here as well. And clearly, nobody feels it is crucial not to let the former overwhelm the latter. In that sense, nobody has something in common with George Bernard Shaw. The 70 year old Shaw once wrote about his rather sad childhood during which, among other things, he had to suffer with his father's "drink neurosis". On one memorable evening the young Shaw recalls being awakened by a loud commotion outside his window. The 10 year old looked out to see his father:
with an imperfectly wrapped-up goose under one arm
and a ham in the same condition under the other(both purchased under heaven knows what delusion of festivity) butting at
the garden wall in the belief that he was pushing open the
gate, and transforming his tall hat to a concertina in the same
process and, who, instead of being overwhelmed with shame and
anxiety....had been disabled by merriment.
After having witnessed this spectacle, Shaw decided that, in order to cope with the world in which he found himself, he would have to make "trifles" out of the "tragedies" of the world. He concluded by stating:
If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.
Shaw's advice sounds very similar to the advice that nobody gives in "paper plates":
When you get knocked upon your ass now
please get up and try again, just one more time.
So, maybe one should take a little time and listen to " binkyspoominneep" and then take a little time to look out one's front door, under one's bed, around one's apartment or up someone's dress. One may be suprised at what one may find.
WRITTEN BY: Michael Mayer