Hussalonia Song # 3: Limbo Rock

Well, don't say I didn't warn you. That is, I believe that I did mention that I'm prone to frequent procrastination. If I didn't mention this, I probably meant to, but never got around to it.
It has been exactly one month and a day since my last entry on this little blog. Let us not be downhearted; let us believe, against all rationality and good sense, that we have all the time in the world.
Before I begin to write my reaction to the song that is this entry's subject, allow me to make a few announcements pertinent to this blog in varying degrees.
First of all, I mentioned in my introductory post here that while the idea for this blog came from nowhere more profound than my own mind, much inspiration in the execution of this idea came from the similarly-conceived and much more brilliant blog "Every Bob Dylan Song." When I began this project, that excellent blog appeared to have gone on an indefinite hiatus. I am pleased to announce that it is now up and running once again! Author Anthony Ling is once again hard at work writing about each and every one of Bob Dylan's songs and I strongly recommend you check it out. That link, once again, is: http://everybobdylansong.blogspot.com/.
In even more relevant news (to this blog, anyway) is that an album I've wanted to hear for quite some time now has finally become available to me. Mentioned also in the introductory post here, "Skaros [Name Redacted by Order of Nefarico] and Wild" is a single album by a one-time band featuring Hussalonia founder. As previously noted, the link on Hussalonia's website associated with this album has been broken since I first discovered Hussalonia in April of 2009. While checking the music page recently, in preparation for entries on this very blog, I just happened to notice that the "LINK COMING SOON!" message had finally gone away! I was lead to a website that, after signing up for an account, allowed me to download all seven tracks from the album for free. While I haven't listened to these tracks yet, I plan to include my thoughts on them here, if there are no objections.
Finally, yet another new Hussalonia album has been released! It is Hussalonia's 30^th release, in fact, and it is quite unusual. I've only listened to a couple of tracks, but I look forward to listening further. It is a most strange and wonderful album indeed. It is titled "Dear Hussalonia: Letters from Animals, Mostly Ducks." I like ducks quite a bit, and many animals, just as I enjoy national anthems. Hussalonia has been good to me lately. As with the previous release, this album has been dedicated to the public domain. I hope, in the future, to appropriate some of this album into some obscure project of mine.
Now, on to the actual subject of this entry!
The third track off of "Ernest Evans Hussalonia," "Limbo Rock" is one of many Hussalonia songs that I associate with the clash between staying true to one's self artistically and the need to get by; in other words, it is the ideal versus the practical. It is a subject near and dear to my own heart. In "Chubby Checker" I got the sense that the persona (perhaps or perhaps not [The Hussalonia Founder] himself) of the song is viewing Chubby Checker as someone alienated from him. Checker is the rock and roll ideal, living the high life, doing what he wants to do, and the singer is stuck trying to get by, paycheck by paycheck. In "Limbo Rock," however, the singer faces an altogether different figure: the Devil himself, who takes his soul. With "the hands of Liberace, and the voice of Nat 'King' Cole," the Devil plays a bizarre concert in which he takes requests and everyone is dancing "like contortionists." As the song "Unforgettable" is played, the singer observes how his younger self would never have imagined nor desired to "be a party to that song, but now [he sings] along." I'm not really familiar with the song or with Nat 'King' Cole (shall I be ignorant of everything referenced in Hussalonia songs?) but from what little I do know, I think I get the picture of what is going on here. Cole and the song both represent something much more mainstream than what the singer would like to be a part of; I imagine that by singing along and joining in with the dancers, he is losing himself, as the Devil has already taken his soul, and becoming just another face in the crowd. The theme here reminds me more of art theory, or philosophy of art, than of any actual spiritual or religious matter. Still, I can't help but feel that the theme could apply in such realms; after all, art is not the only form of human endeavor and experience. It certainly means a great deal to me personally, however, that this song brings to mind the struggle over art as personal expression versus art as crowd-pleasing, commercialism and practical value.
I sometimes wonder if art simply isn't for making a living, no matter how you look at it. I wonder if it isn't arrogant, or greedy, or deluded to think that one can, or should, attempt to make a living "doing what one loves to do," as it is so often said. In my writing, I have certain things that I want to say and certain ways that I want to say those things and I fear the scenario in which an editor or whoever wants me to change anything. This is, I think, the typical complaint of young authors, and seen often as a mark of arrogance. However, I do realize that in refusing any or at least too much outside influence, my writings will be flawed. I am so very fond of flaws, though. Nothing, to me, seems more human, and without them, I fear that my individuality might be erased from what I create. I realize that flaws make a book less pleasurable to read (in most cases at least) and therefore less marketable, less profitable, and etc. It would be arrogant of me to presume that my writings will sell, that they will be beloved by many or any, and that by carrying out this philosophy of strong individual emphasis and retaining-of-flaws I'll earn any practical reward. I am arrogant in some ways, but even I don't believe that any of that is likely in the least. That would be ideal, but I'm not sure that it is the ideal I should pursue (as doing so would certainly be in vain). The ideal that I should pursue, and that perhaps any self-respecting artist should pursue, is to be as true as possible, flaws and all, and make the art that they want to make or feel that they ought to make. If you have to do something else to support yourself, that's unavoidable; do what you can. There's always the route of doing strictly commercial works as a means of paying the bills and doing personal work on the side just as you would with any other job. That's the route I'm currently exploring.
From what I know of the Hussalonia founder, having read through an interview or two, listening to his music and reading a blog he kept, he and I differ a great deal on many subjects, some most essential to a person's worldview. Though our reasons may be different (a subtle difference, perhaps), though, we seem to be in agreement to a fair degree on this subject of maintaining art as something individual and honest and not subjecting it to commercialism, to making a living, to what anyone or everyone else thinks. Songs such as "Limbo Rock" strike me as a reflection of that, and [The Hussalonia Founder]'s comments during the interview section of the "Live In Allen Hall" seem to express much the same opinion that I've expressed in the preceding paragraph. If [The Hussalonia Founder] and I truly have one thing in common, I think that this subject is it, and in large part it is what attracted me to Hussalonia in the first place. Having the will to make one's own art, apart from any reward, praise, criticism or influence of any kind, and making it available to all for free, is an endeavor I cannot help but respect and admire. While I continue to make fiction with the long-distant aim of mainstream publication and commercial success, merchandising and all, I hope that I will be able to take a similar approach to that of Hussalonia when it comes to my "real" works, the things written for someone, for some reason, even if I never know who or why. I'll see how that goes. In the mean time, I will continue, sporadically, to write this blog, and I hope that someone somewhere will find it, discover Hussalonia as I have, and be inspired in much the same way, in addition to enjoying some most excellent tunes.