Silver Surfer #4

Silver Surfer was introduced, like many of the characters that form the backbone of the Marvel corporate behemoth, in the pages of the 1960s Fantastic Four. He was the tragic, brooding, enslaved herald of planet-gobbling Galactus. Marvel's first "cosmic" comic-book hero, Silver Surfer captivated the Baby Boomers. A loner, a stranger, an alien, filled with regret and sorrow, Silver Surfer harnessed the power cosmic, riding the spaceways on his silver surfboard.

The 1960s were all about power -- explosive, mind-bending, colorful, no-holds-barred, live-or-die power, like a color TV Western high-noon gun fight. I realized this, felt this '60s indulgent Romantic feeling, on the bus on my way to a race last September when the garage rock classic, "To Die Alone" by The Bush (produced by Kim Fowley), shuffled on my iPod:

After the 1960s, the next period of great Silver Surfer popularity was the Grunge Age, the late 1980s/early 1990s.

A moment of mass social ferment that in hindsight is more indicative of neoliberalism's complete victory over social democracy and socialism (the collapse of the Soviet Union and the ascension of New Democrat Bill Clinton) than any lasting cultural monument, Grunge nonetheless instilled belief in youth (and I was one) that another world was possible.

I read The Silver Surfer and listened to Pearl Jam's Ten at the time. I displayed issue #48, the "Past Sins" issue, on the wall of my Washington Heights studio:

Now that Silver Surfer is back with his own vibrant title once again, does this herald another age of social ferment? I hope so. What is different about this latest iteration is how whimsical it is. The Silver Surfer is teamed with a twenty-something slacker/bed-&-breakfast hostess named Dawn Greenwood. Gone are the testosterone-driven tales of deep-space combat with super-powerful cosmic villains. The comic book as scripted by Dan Slott with art by Mike Allred and colors by Laura Allred reads more like an airy Golden Age fable.

And that is what is so perplexing about this new Silver Surfer. With the fracturing of Western Civilization -- digital technology dominating social consciousness, neoliberalism pauperizing the planet, murder and mayhem abounding, displaced persons in greater numbers at any time since World War Two -- the comic book appears to be an inversion of current events. Rather than translating our Zeitgeist into a heroic, cosmic narrative, as Silver Surfer has done in times past, Slott and Allred create a comic book that turns our present age upside down and inside out. This is a good thing, I think. The system is collapsing, and we need to break on through to the other side. Slott and Allred are giving a glimpse of what might be there waiting for us.

Below are seven scans from Silver Surfer #4, the cover and six interior pages. Surfer and Dawn return to Earth after a cosmic odyssey. Strange events are unfolding at Greenwood Inn.

 

Nihilism #5

The problem with nihilism -- its Achilles' heel -- is the past. The past exists as a real other -- a god -- that is part of the self. All is not merely limitless striving.

There is an object of consciousness. One exists. It is not timeless. It is time-bound. It is the past. It usually reveals itself to me via music. Schopenhauer thought music was pure spirit.

This morning suffering through a long run, my left foot giving me trouble in form of a strained arch, a song from Mike Johnson's doleful Year of Mondays (1996) shuffled on my iPod. Hearing "Eclipse" I was transported back to the downhill slope of the Age of Grunge. The spirit world confronting me inside my mind was a recollection of a torpid time of futon lounging, book devouring and living underground, on the run from everyone and myself.

Then there was yesterday at work. For some reason I decided to YouTube Blake Babies. Sunburn (1990) popped up. Sunburn is one of those albums that will never be given the credit that it deserves in terms of creating the Age of Grunge. Sunburn represents an approach to the peak of Grunge. Mammoth Records Grunge-Pop.

I saw Blake Babies perform at CBGBs. It was 1991. The summer I devotedly listened to Rosy Jack World (1991). Rosy Jack World and the summer of 1991 -- this represents the summit for Grunge. Think Pearl Jam's Ten (1991) and, at the end of summer/beginning of fall, Nirvana's Nevermind (1991).

To end their CBGBs set that night, Blake Babies did a cover of Neil Young's "Barstool Blues." A diehard Zuma fan, I went berserk, shouting along exuberantly, gesticulating wildly. If only you could have seen Juliana Hatfield that night! She anchored the band from the lip of the stage. With her bass strapped on over a plain white t-shirt, Hatfield was the apotheosis of the real cool. Now, after crossing an ocean of time, that might seem impossible. But that night it was unquestionable.

I had not listened to Blake Babies in a long, long time. But when I heard Sunburn yesterday, it all came back. The past is alive inside of us. As I said, this is a problem for nihilism.