Beware of Darkness (Day 2 Demo/Take 1)
When I lost all the weight, I just wanted to wear suits. I wanted to look like Warren Ellis. Some combination of a devil-may-care old guy who stopped giving a fuck but had the sense to still follow all the rules. These rules count. You’ll never see Warren Eliss in shorts. Men should never wear shorts unless they’re like 25 or 30 feet from some body of water that they plan to engage within in some way. And no, watering a garden doesn’t count, Jewels. And men who wear shorts to work or like going to the bank, well, just don’t even get me started on these cretins. You just know these are the same motherfuckers who put ketchup on their hot dogs.
Look, I have a lot of rules. I think they make the world a better place when they’re followed, and when not, they sure give me a lot to spirit to spring into righteous mockery and judgment. Like, how about those troglodytes that don’t put their shopping carts back at the grocery store? They just leave ’em them there. What kind of subhuman does that? So many rules. So when I got skinny, I decided to dress like a man whenever possible. Certainly, I can’t do it all the time. When I’m out in the garage grinding steel for some inevitably botched Japanese chef’s knife, I’m not in a suit. But I’m not wearing any goddamn shorts either, and don’t even get me started on underwear. Why any man needs to wear underwear after the age of like 8 is beyond me. I mean, what does underwear even do? It’s not like your cock and balls can’t just rest in there comfortably in whatever non-short pants you’re wearing, but guys sure do seem to love ’em, and Jesus, the supposed advances in underwear technology are bewildering. Personally, I don’t buy it. I mean, I don’t buy it at all, and I just don’t believe it. And let’s face it, when it comes to sex, it just gets things going that much quicker. Boom. All systems go.
So anyway, I bought some suits, and I realized I could have little things embroidered on the left inside right above the little pocket. One was “Duende.” One was “Saudade.” Another was simply “Love.” But my favorite one, which is inside the purple velvet suit, simply says “Beware of Darkness.” So where did this come from, I hear you asking.
I never really liked the Beatles. I was a Stones guy, and by that, I mean when the real Mick was in the band, Mick Taylor. Everything the Rolling Stones created, which was gilded in the fine gold of genius they did when Mick Taylor replaced Brian Jones, that goofy-looking autoharp player or whatever the fuck he was. Mick Taylor stood in the back and turned the Rolling Stones into The Stones. Even Mick Jagger, in the Scorcese documentary, admits that they became basically clownish once Taylor left and was replaced by Ron Wood. Successful as all hell, to be sure, but the Sister Morphine and Moonlight Mile days were over. Taylor says he left because he figured he’d be dead from heroin in a year if he stayed. There’s just no keeping up with Keith. One day he just wasn’t there anymore. He split. And so I was wired as a Stones fan; it seems we’re all one or the other; I have vast neurological theories about how the same brain cannot love each band equally. They can like them both just fine, but when it comes to who you want to be played at your funeral, only one will do, and you’ve carried that decision since you heard them both for the first time. Same with Neil Young and Bob Dylan. Clearly, the better among us are wired for Neil, but that’s a whole different essay.
And then the damndest thing happened. The hobbit guy, Peter Jackson, had the audacity, the sheer balls to produce and release an eight-hour documentary about the Beatles making their album “Get Back.” That’s the name of the doc. It came out around last Christmas. If you haven’t seen at least some of it, well then, I’ll be kind and just pat your little kid’s head and say a little snickering prayer for you. I watched it from start to finish in three days. Initially, I will just watch any documentary. But quickly, something started happening to me, and it quite literally changed my life.
I’d been lied to. We all had been. We were led to believe that John Lennon was some sullen asshole and that Yoko got in the way of everything. We were told McCartney resented her presence and that by this time, the four of them all but hated each other. But none of it was true. The film follows them all but daily for about a month, and their true colors show. Lennon is a kind, jovial, always laughing guy anyone would want as a friend. Yoko is never more than 12 inches from him, but she just minds her business and only pipes up with little bouts of encouragement. Ringo is clearly the anchor. The only myth that seems true is how down Harrison was kept while McCartney and Lennon worked. Jesus, what they much have thought when they heard All Things Must Past and realized he tried to give them most of these brilliant songs.
In any case, the doc moves on and ends with the legendary noontime roof concert above Apple studios. The pathos at realizing they never ever played again as a band is heartbreaking. By this time, I had just fallen in love with all of them. And then it ends. A couple more days of overdubs and the gorgeous Glyn Johns presiding over everything, and it’s over, and all my theories about loving only one band are dashed or maybe not; maybe I just got rewired.
And can we please just talk about Glyn moment? His name has been synonymous with so many great records through the years. I dare you to go into any recording studio and start mic-ing up a drumset without someone demanding the “Glyn Johns” sound. I’d never seen him before, and Christ! I’d switch teams for this motherfucker in a heartbeat! He’s beautiful and dwarfs everyone else in the movie with his style.
And so I went down the rabbit hole of listening to and catching up with all things Beatles. I never cared before. I think I just couldn’t stand Beatles fans and the sacred cows they’d created. But now, I was free to listen while I made knives or drove around listening to “Dig A Pony” on repeat. Eventually, I got to Georges’s first album and arguably the greatest Beatles album that never was. So many slices of sunrays and space radiation. “My Sweet Lord” and “Wah Wah,”( which he wrote the night he quit the band right in the middle of filming the doc..a shot straight at Paul) and “Apple Scruff.” And almost every fucking song was new to me. Anyone should be so lucky to wait so long to hear these songs for the first time. I was ready. I was primed. I loved how devout he was. I loved how unapologetically he was stating his love of God. I’d found myself there too by them. Years of shooting dope, cynicism and losing every girl I ever loved didn’t leave me much else to grab onto.
And I started noticing one song more than the others as I played the album over and over. It was just an acoustic version of a song that appeared later on the record. “Beware of Darkness (original demo” I think it was titled. I could look it up, but it hardly matters. This was the only one-take acoustic song in the mix. He sings about being wary of the pain of strangers and how it can linger. And then he sings a verse that has changed my very way of looking at life. He sings this:
“Beware of sadness
It can hit you
It can hurt you
Make you sore and what is more
That is not what you are here for”
It’s that last line. “That is not what you are here for.” Well then, what are we here for?
And as close as I can figure is this. Happiness is nothing to be deserved. It’s not something to be hoped for. Happiness is our fucking job! We’re here to do whatever it is that makes us happy. And not in some vapid pleasure-filled way but truly happy, truly at peace, because only then are we most able and likely to show love to others, and that is why we’re here. To show and give and receive love.
It’s that simple. We either love, or we cause pain and hopefully perish quickly. And that is not what were are here for.
And so, everything changed for me. All I care about is showing love, and I couldn’t care less what someone might think of that. I’ve given more than my share of pain, hate and hurt. Now it’s time to love. So hold the door open for a stranger. Smile at someone who seems miserable. Offer someone something, anything. And beware of darkness. It will find you, and it will hurt you. And that is not what we are here for. Just love you cocksuckers, Just love.