Deciduous Ears

The Thermals and American Society

posted November 20, 2007, 3:59 pm | Log In To Post Comments | view comments (0)
Tags: The Thermals, The Body, The Blood, The Machine, America, History, Religion, Christianity, Society

It’s always easier to deal with and discuss problems of politics, religion, and society as a whole when within the realms of music. Beyond certain albums’ catchy tunes worthy of “Best of” lists, their lyrics and themes offer interesting analysis, criticism, and some solutions to our current state of being. I think these very important lyrical aspects of albums should be more than a footnote in reviews. They should be pulled apart, analyzed, and discussed to a ridiculous point. There are countless albums out there that we should do this for (and hopefully I’ll cover a few more here before I lose interest in this thread) but I’ll stick with this one for now.

The Thermals – The Body, The Blood, The Machine

Despite the fact that most if not all of the Founding Fathers were deists (a belief that rejects all religious tomes, miracles, and other “unexplainable” religious happenings; replacing them with Reason, philosophy, and the belief that God is alike a “watchmaker,” that is, he set the laws of science in motion, pressed ‘Start,’ and stood back as Earth took shape), it is a common notion that the United States of America was founded upon sound Christian principles. Despite a more literal notion that religion must remain out of politics altogether, it remains present—and one could argue it has gained a growing influence in government. George W. Bush’s election on the basis of “sound morals” is testament to this: religion is a major part of dictating what our morals are, and when one votes for moral character (or literal religious belief, as many no doubt did), we’re no longer electing leaders based on anything pertaining to their actual job in office. It’s like hiring a manager in your company because he plays hockey well, and you only trust good hockey players.

In any case, it is this unsettling trend that The Thermals discuss in The Body, The Blood, The Machine. The scene is set religiously in “Here’s Your Future,” which runs through two major Bible stories: that of Noah and his Ark and that of Jesus, and his crucifixion for the sins of mankind. Right from the get-go, The Thermals subtlety point out oddities in these beliefs, throwing in lines like “God will create the new master race” out of the Flood and Noah—which is in principle true, but sounds unsettling and uncomfortable when reworded this way. Such is the case when God addresses Jesus, asking him to “pay for the sin I create.” We commonly think of sin being humans’ fault, but when considered in the grand scope of things—it’s God’s sin. If He created everything, and sin is something, then it is a byproduct of God. Thus, Jesus is dying for something God created—for something that might actually be God’s fault. This is obviously very arguable, but it is what The Thermals are suggesting just with a quick subtle line, and we are meant to see flaws in the original doctrine, before even getting to the rest of the storyline.

Separate to this Biblical prologue is the introduction to the United States of America in “Power Doesn’t Run On Nothing.” This track runs through American history, from the point when America was “just a child” until it is “old as hell.” Through it all, Americans demand in a damning chorus: “Give us what we’re asking for / Cause either way we’re goin’ take it / Our power doesn’t run on nothing / We need the land you’re standing on.” The implication here is obvious: American history is one of blood, from taking Native American’s land to starting an unjust war with Mexico to conquest more land. And it’s not just land, Americans in “Power Doesn’t Run on Nothing” also demand “fuel” and “blood.”

This should be a familiar historical perspective to anyone who has given a damn and gone past school textbooks to explore history: The Spanish-American War was unjustly started by America, as was the Mexican War which resulted in taking 2/3 of Mexico’s territory—which was conveniently dotted with gold and other mineral deposits. (Yeah, Mexico’s current economic trouble is a real shocker). One does not even need to mention the unjustly initiated Vietnam War, nor the current adventure in Iraq to back up this claim by The Thermals. America will “drain the well, turn all to hell / Leave the Earth’s surface to the worthless dirt” while selfishly asking “You think we’ll cease / To find a reason? / You think it’s fair? / You think we care?”

The Thermals add on their own reasoning for why Americans feel they can do this though, why we can “tell the children” (children representing either other nations, Native Americans, American citizens, whatever) “when to kill and when to sit still.” It is because “We’re more equal,” and “God is with us, and our god’s the richest.” It’s an extension of the White Man’s Burden really, America must do these things because they’re helping—they’re brining good economy, capitalism, and God to all corners of the Earth. The stage is set then, and The Thermals continue on.

“I Might Need You To Kill” and “An Ear for Baby” both describe the current state of things in The Body, The Blood, The Machine. Whether the society described by The Thermals is our current one, or one in the near future, is not clear and perhaps not important. In this world, religion has begot “locust tornadoes, crosses, and Nazi halos…ashes and friends, ass-backward medicines.” In other words, not only have the evils of 20th century fascism have found a new home in the religious government in The Thermals’ society, but right-winged judgments on issues like health care, abortion, and stem cell research have (maybe) bred “ass-backward medicines.” Obviously, this is not a nice place to live. An ever-present “They” “beat us” and tell us “what to read…what to eat…what to feel.” It is this last one that meets the most resistance from the narrator of “I Might Need You To Kill,” who then suggests violence as a solution to this problem. This is wholly ironic: a seemingly Christian society has bred more violence than existed before.

The over-seeing “They” – who are “only God’s babies” – constantly “pound you with the love of Jesus” and refer to society as “the subjects,” but want you to always believe that “we’re your friends.” “An Ear for Baby” takes on the perspective of “They,” declaring to that to be one of “They” you must “lose your intentions / Lose your common sense…stick to a numb stare / Strip to your underwear.” The concluding line perhaps alluding to the sex scandals that have rocked the Church of late, this is obviously implying that those who lead have no individual foresight or intelligence—they are there to follow a common purpose, “the mission, the dream” based on religious morals (sound familiar?), a trinity of “the body, the blood, the machine.” This common purpose, at least in “An Ear for Baby,” is one of “a new world order,” where “work is freedom, sloth is sin.” The “They” want to “draw the brides, dig the ditches steep,” in essence; they want a everlasting “new border” from the world.

For most people, this is not a favorable place to live. For our narrator, who unfortunately lives in this world, escape is a fairly attractive solution. “Pillar of Salt” declares the narrator’s want and reason for escape, despite the difficulties in doing so (the "giant fist...out to crush us"). “They” alluded to the impossibility of escape in “An Ear for Baby,” wishing one “good luck getting over the fence.” But in order to protect loved ones, our narrator must escape. “I carry my baby…I can she’s afraid / That’s why we’re escaping.” The narrator cites religious differences, and alludes to possible prosecution happening in his reasons for leaving, stating he wants to leave “so we won’t have to die / We won’t have to deny / Our dirty God / Our dirty bodies.” In a sense then, the narrator’s own religious beliefs are not welcome in The Thermals’ America (specifically, an acceptance that everyone sins, "We were born to sin"). Much like the Spanish Inquisition, anyone who does not share with the dominant religious ideology will be killed or worse—and rather than deny his god, the narrator must flee for his sake, and the sake of his family.

The escape is initiated in “Back to the Sea,” where the narrator decides to escape while others are being brought “through the pouring rain…to the gas chamber.” The religious cleansing has started, the "giant fist" is attacking, people are dying, and the narrator must “crawl…back to the sea.” Again, the narrator’s strong alternate religious beliefs give him strength as he declares “Lord won’t judge us now / We know exactly who we are / We know exactly what we do.” The narrator is fighting off a nagging feeling that his prosecutors are right by declaring that he knows what God is, and knows himself—he is not sinning by leaving, by pursuing religion in a different way.

At first glance to The Body, The Blood, the Machine, it may seem a very anti-Christian album. But this is not the case. Already the narrator has suggested he believes in some form of God, and the only reason this leads to trouble is because “They” judge his beliefs to be wrong, and for this our narrator must die. “St. Rosa and the Swallows,” which finds our narrator remembering his terrible escape journey, also reveals that our narrator remembered St. Rosa in his struggles to keep him going. St. Rosa, a saint that live in the 16th century, is known for constantly fasting herself, existing in as near isolation as she could, and sleeping upon a bed of thorns and broken glass. But she suffered to come closer to God—and the allusion to the narrator’s own journey cannot be ignored. The narrator is not simply escaping Christianity and it’s hypocritical ways—he is fighting and suffering for his God, to become closer to religion. Religion is not wholly discarded by The Thermals, they only warn of twisted religion, which infects American government and forces its own beliefs upon others. “St. Rosa and the Swallows” also speaks indirectly to the listener in the present day, declaring that while escaping the narrator passed “those old rusted warning signs / What did they say? / I think they said, ‘Run!’” The fact that these warning signs are old implies there are signals today that The Thermals’ society could become a reality, unless we do something.

“Test Pattern” argues that this pre-emptive solution involves redefining what he think belief is. Religion doesn’t have to be an absolute conviction that we cannot sway from. “You can call this a test pattern / So you don’t have to commit / So you can change any day.” In other words, learn! Explore! Discover new beliefs, alternate religions, and the common threads that run between them all. Don’t isolate yourself in the ignorance of one belief—for this is what leads to “They” controlling all with intolerance and gas chambers. The Thermals are telling you its okay to read about other religions, and even practice them for a while. Doing this doesn’t make you any less a Christian, a Jew, or a Muslim. It makes you a better person.

The pursuit of answers, no matter the source, should be our focus. “Returning to the Fold” calls for these answers, asks for guidance to the core of belief. The narrator declares, “I still have faith / If I ever had faith / Wait for me!” Again, The Thermals are not discarding religion, rather calling us to slow down, wait, and discover what our faith truly is. Does being a Christian mean opposing gay marriage, denouncing other faiths, and accusing others of sinning? Or does it mean accepting everyone for who they are, loving everyone no matter what, and ever remaining meek and vigilant for knowledge? Never stop searching for answers, and if you feel people or God is rushing you, simply ask, “Wait for me.”

The album concludes with the narrator reaching safety after his terrifying escape in “I Hold the Sound”: “It’s safe now.” But what kind of “safe” is this? After all, the door must remain “locked,” “we don’t talk,” and we “walk alone.” Is this really better than what we left? “The world is over” for God’s sake. But we are reminded of the simple things: our basic freedoms. “We can walk now / We can breathe.” We are free to do what we please, free to believe what we please. And, let’s not forget, “it’s early still.” This new existence is just starting, and perhaps soon we can unlock our doors and talk loudly again. But the narrator will always “hold the sound,” that is: never forget what has happened. We may regain more and more liberties, but we can never let our guard down, for it may happen again.

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