1260: Fade Away by Amorak Huey - The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily

Summary

The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily – Episode 1260: "Fade Away" by Amarak Huey

Release Date: December 13, 2024

Introduction

In Episode 1260 of The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily, hosted by Major Jackson and produced by American Public Media in partnership with The Poetry Foundation, listeners are guided through a contemplative journey inspired by the poem "Fade Away" by Amarak Huey. This episode intertwines personal reflections on music, life's transient nature, and the enduring impact of poetry, offering a rich tapestry of insights and emotions.

Embracing Analog Nostalgia

Major Jackson opens the episode by sharing his rekindled passion for vinyl records, detailing an eight-weekend spree of visiting record stores. He emphasizes that his fascination isn't rooted in nostalgia for the past but rather in the tangible connection and excitement vinyl offers. Jackson reflects:

"Reprising classic albums and finding new-to-me gems is keeping me excited to listen loud" (00:45).

He describes the tactile pleasure of handling records, the unique smells of old albums, and the anticipation that builds as he prepares to experience the music anew. This segment highlights the sensory and emotional depth that analog mediums provide, setting the stage for deeper reflections.

The Poetry of Music’s Endings

Transitioning from his vinyl experiences, Jackson delves into the poem "Fade Away," drawing parallels between the fade-out technique in music and the ephemeral nature of life and relationships. He muses:

"Today's poem insists our lives, like so many analog recordings, are raw, unadorned, layered, full of disruptions and distortions" (02:10).

Jackson explores how fading out in music symbolizes unresolved endings and the seamless continuation of life despite abrupt changes. He references the fading of songs as metaphors for transitions in personal relationships, embodying the idea that endings are often just preludes to new beginnings.

Concrete Reflections on Life's Realities

Diving deeper, Jackson shares a poignant anecdote about Def Leppard's bassist Rick Allen losing his arm in a car accident, illustrating how real-life events can disrupt and reshape one's path. He states:

"It's just what happened in the world. Not everything stands for something else. Some things just are" (04:30).

This statement underscores the inevitability of certain life events and the importance of acceptance. Jackson emphasizes that while metaphors enrich our understanding, some experiences exist purely as they are, devoid of symbolic meaning.

Existence and Connection

The episode further explores the theme of existence and human connection. Jackson reflects on the simplicity and profundity of shared experiences:

"We exist in this world as a lesson to no one about nothing, not cautionary tale or exemplar, not fable or song sermon or poem, one body and another body, side by side in bed at the end of a day…" (05:15).

This passage highlights the inherent value of human relationships and presence, suggesting that genuine connections transcend the need for metaphorical interpretation. It emphasizes the beauty of existing alongside others, navigating the mundane and the extraordinary together.

The Metaphor of Life's Soundtrack

Concluding his reflections, Jackson muses on the metaphorical nature of life, despite earlier assertions of its literal existence:

"It sounds like a metaphor, but it's just life. Which I guess makes it a metaphor" (05:50).

This paradox encapsulates the essence of the episode—acknowledging that while life can be perceived through various metaphors, it remains a complex, multifaceted experience that resists singular interpretations. It reinforces the idea that poetry and art provide lenses through which we can better understand and appreciate the nuances of our existence.

Conclusion

Episode 1260 of The Slowdown masterfully blends personal anecdotes with poetic analysis, offering listeners a profound reflection on music, life, and the subtle interplay between them. Major Jackson's engaging narrative invites the audience to pause, listen deeply, and find resonance in the shared human experience. Through "Fade Away" by Amarak Huey, the episode underscores the transient yet enduring moments that define our journeys, celebrating the art of poetry as a means to navigate and illuminate the mysteries of life.

Notable Quotes

"Reprising classic albums and finding new-to-me gems is keeping me excited to listen loud." — Major Jackson (00:45)
"Today's poem insists our lives, like so many analog recordings, are raw, unadorned, layered, full of disruptions and distortions." — Major Jackson (02:10)
"It's just what happened in the world. Not everything stands for something else. Some things just are." — Major Jackson (04:30)
"We exist in this world as a lesson to no one about nothing, not cautionary tale or exemplar, not fable or song sermon or poem, one body and another body, side by side in bed at the end of a day…" — Major Jackson (05:15)
"It sounds like a metaphor, but it's just life. Which I guess makes it a metaphor." — Major Jackson (05:50)

About the Hosts and Production Team

The Slowdown is hosted by Major Jackson, with production led by Micah Kielbaun and Maria Wartel. The team behind the scenes includes music composer Alexis Quadrado, engineer Josh Savageau, and digital producer James Napoli, among others. The podcast is produced by APM Studios, supported by the National Endowment for the Arts, and collaborates closely with The Poetry Foundation to bring daily poetic reflections to listeners.

Connect and Engage

Listeners are encouraged to make The Slowdown a part of their daily routine—whether during morning coffee, a nature walk, or winding down in the evening. To receive a daily poem, visit slowdownshow.org and sign up for the newsletter, or follow the show on Instagram @slowdownshow.

Note: Times in the summary correspond to approximate moments in the transcript for reference.

Transcript

A (0:01)

If you could hear love, what would it sound like?

B (0:11)

Son, can we talk about your drinking?

A (0:15)

Yeah, Dad, I think we should helping those closest to you think about their excessive drinking. Maybe that's what love sounds like. More@rethinkthedrink.com An OHA initiative.

B (0:36)

I'm major Jackson and this is the Slowdown. I cannot fully explain my renewed love for vinyl. All I know is that for eight weekends straight I have found myself randomly walking into a record store. Although you might know me to be nostalgic, I do not uphold the golden days of analog and denigrate all things digital. Reprising classic albums and finding new to me gems is keeping me excited to listen loud, so I find myself scrolling secondhand postings online and digging into crates. My last treasure hunt yielded Donald Byrd's Funky Street Lady, Mahalia Jackson's Holy Shouts and the inimitable Dinah Washington singing Cry Me a River, Move Over, Justin Timberlake. There is nothing like the liner notes. It is its own genre of writing, the author being like a Virgil guiding me through the album's journey. I scour to see if I recognize favorite musicians mentioned in the sessions lineups. They don't make names anymore, like Wawa Watson. The album's old, moldy smells make me a little dizzy, but the anticipation of hearing the music buoy me until I get home. When I drop the needle on the record, that first crackle sends a sweet shock to my ears, inviting me to prepare for an audio experience where anything is possible. Today's poem insists our lives, like so many analog recordings, are raw, unadorned, layered, full of disruptions and distortions. Fade Away by Amarak Huey How a song ends has changed over the years. They used to fade out, as if the music hadn't ended at all, was still playing somewhere. And it was us who'd moved on, already singing the next song, even as the first one continued in some other room. A lover moving on with their life as we moved on with ours. When Def Leppard Strummer lost his arm in a car accident, it took a while for us to hear what happened. News spread differently in those days, so by the time we knew the story for sure, the band had resumed performing and Rick Allen had an electronic kit he could play with his feet. None of this is metaphor. It's just what happened in the world. Not everything stands for something else. Some things just are. Like us. We are we exist in this world as a lesson to no one about nothing, not cautionary tale or exemplar, not fable or song sermon or poem, one body and another body, side by side in bed at the end of a day, at the end of the next day and the next, until the bodies expect each other's presence, the absence of absence. This is what we wanted, what we've always wanted, though we probably would not have said so, not back then, not before I saw Kiss in concert, long after their prime, after the makeup had come off, leaving only the band unadorned and trying too hard in music that never quite sounded the way it once had. It sounds like a metaphor, but it's just life. Which I guess makes it a metaphor. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram lownshow the Slowdown is written by me, Major Jackson. Our lead producer is Micah Kielbaun and our associate producer is Maria Wartel. Our music is composed by Alexis Quadrado, engineering by Josh Savageau. Our digital producer is James Napoli. Additional production help by Susanna Sharpless, Jess Miller and Lauren Humpert. Our executives in charge of APM Studios are Chandra Kavati and Joanne Griffith. When work gets crazy, I like to stop by the bar after have a few cold ones. I don't drink at all until 4:00. We limit ourselves to one bottle of wine a night.