Commonplace Book: John Milton, “Comus”

From Comus, or A Mask Presented at Ludlow-Castle, 1634, John Milton [1637/45]

THE LADY:
If every man that now pines with want
Had but a moderate and beseeming share
Of that which lewdly-pamper’d Luxury
Now heaps upon som few with vast excess,
Natures full blessings would be well dispenc’t
In unsuperfluous even proportion,
And she no whit encomber’d with her store,
And then the giver would be better thank’t,
His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony
Ne’re looks to Heav’n amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with besotted base ingratitude
Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. (ll.767-78)

A timely couple of lines about the nature of excess. The virtuous Lady, captured by the debauched Comus, derides her captor for his luxurious living. I can’t help but think of Goldman Sachs here, of the growing divide in this country between the have’s and the have-not’s, and what all of that excess does to those that have. It’s a rare moment of true Miltonic populism.

The accusation which the Lady levels against Comus is not just that he eats too much, drinks too much, parties too much, but that engaging in that excessive consumption keeps his eyes turned downward. It seems a cliché at this point, but the man immersed in luxury can’t see beyond the boundaries of his own consumption — he’s bound up in what he has and what he wants. I’m secularizing the passage a bit, since the “feeder” Milton alludes to is divine, the god who permits Comus to have more than his share, but I think the general sentiment — that of self-obsessive, self-blinded over-consumption — still works without it.

The Long Mixtape: The Envy Corps, “Rhinemaidens”

The Envy Corps
“Rhinemaidens”
I Will Write You Love Letters If You Tell Me To
Self-released, 2006

Back at the start of my first year in Madison, Ms. Bridges — who is much, much cooler than me (or anybody else I know) — gave me a couple of albums. One was Beartrap Island by Division Day. Another was Lanzafame by Tap Tap. And the last one was an EP by a band that has become my favorite disappearing act. I hadn’t heard a thing about The Envy Corps before that and, except for googling them just now, I haven’t heard a thing about them afterwards, and I like to think that I keep an ear to the ground, music-wise. Are the Envy Corps a one-hit wonder, then? Well, it certainly seems that way.

But what a one-hit wonder. I Will Write You Love Letters If You Tell Me To is catchy from the get-go, thanks to its eminently listenable lead track. The rest of the EP — which at seven tracks is almost an album unto itself — is pretty solid but lacks the magnificent hookiness of “Rhinemaidens.” There’s nothing terribly groundbreaking about the track, when you get down to it. It follows the indie pop-rock playbook: the slow build then sudden-upshift intro; the usual verse-chorus-verse-chorus modulations; the swell in intensity just past the midpoint of the song; that kind of stuff. The lyrics are passable, maybe even touching, but certainly not profound, and they’re sung in a voice that almost tips over into that annoying nasal pitch to which some middling indie rock troubadours fall prey.

But what it offers is a near flawless execution of that playbook. It’s a song that moves, that carries you along in the effortless sweep of its melodies. For me, it’s a particularly satisfying piece of music: it makes no great demands but offers something simple and deep, a little kernel of, I don’t know, joy or contentment. It’s one of those songs that just shimmers from the very first listen, and that’s a particularly rare bird. It’s polished without being vacuous, elegant without being overwrought. But judge for yourself.

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