Oh, Midnight Oil, talk about a blast from the PAST! It’s almost FIVE years ago to the day when this song showed up on my track list. It was one of the first songs I ever recorded off the radio even. I’m not going to lie. Even though I think you’re awesome, you still scare me. A lot. I imagine you’d be the kind of band that might get a gig with the family from “The Hills Have Eyes”. Which I haven’t seen. Because it would scare me too much.
But I’m going to go out on a limb and say I’m probably more mature than I was when I recorded this song as a kid. Hell, Midnight Oil, I’m probably more mature than I was five years ago when I first wrote about this song. Not by much. But a little. I’m even reading the news again. Not a lot. But I feel like maybe I should be paying a little more attention to what’s going on out there. So I get the “evening briefing” from the New York Times, 10 or 11 little paragraphs summing up what happened out in the world for the day. It’s typically not very good, Midnight Oil. A lot of beds are burning. And I get what you’re saying. How can we be dancing or laughing or sleeping with all of the horribleness going on out there?
I don’t know the answer to that, Midnight Oil. I’ve worked for non-profits my entire adult life, and I’ve seen and heard some really saddening and maddening shit. And compared to other folks, the stuff I’ve seen ain’t no thing but a chicken wing. I consider myself fortunate that I didn’t see even worse. And throughout the years I’ve numbed myself with alcohol and cigarettes and shallow relationship and most recently, latch hooking. Which is better than regular hooking, I’m assuming. Because I don’t know the answer to the questions in this song, Midnight Oil. And I’m understanding more and more why you sound so pissed off.