Cristina Martin on Fleet Foxes’ “Helplessness Blues” (from Helplessness Blues, 2011)
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The first time I heard this song, I was on my way back from a very hard visit. Russell, an elderly friend I had made a few years back, was finally coming to the end of his days. It was his birthday, and so a group of us made the trek to visit him at his home tucked away in the woods, about an hour outside the city. Really, I knew I was going because I needed to say goodbye. It was a simple and happy occasion, but my heart trembled when it was time to go and I pulled away from what would be the final hug. The rawness of that last meeting left me mute in the back of a van as the group headed home, the hum of “Helplessness Blues” my only comfort.
Russell had been a chicken farmer, a pastor, a truck driver, a father, a man who knew no stranger. His name would most likely not be scribbled down in recorded history or repeated past a few more generations in his family, but, having known Russell, I have realized that such things are trivial in the scheme of living. He had done life right and it was full of stories, and joy, and a family that surrounded him until the very end. Yes, he had worked, but I could tell that at the end of Russell’s life the career was secondary to his service of others. His passion was people.
I am a 20-something. My generation has been dubbed by some as one of entitlement. We were told we could do anything we wanted, and, without the foresight of an economic downturn, we believed it. But, I think what is more important to note is how being told “You can do anything” also translated into in our brains into “You better do something.” I have never been able to fully answer the question of what I want to do with my life. I thought that once I got into the work force and started down a path that my vocational destination would become clearer, or at least feel more comfortable. Instead, I have found myself engaging in the acceptable occupational hazards of over-extending myself and disregarding my personal need for balance. I have found myself falling into my unmade bed and with an exhausted murmur asking myself, “What am I working for?”
“Helplessness Blues” has become my comfort in those moments—those moments when the only things that I am sure of are that I have no idea what I am doing or where I’m going. I recall my friend Russell and how he lived his life. Though I never flat-out asked him what his end goal was, I am pretty sure he achieved it. He cultivated a family; he took in people whose pasts may have been gruff and scarred. He befriended a girl who had moved away from her family and desperately longed for the comfort of a grandfather. I cannot say if my life will twist and turn in the same fashions that Russell’s did. But I do hope that, just has he did, I will grow steadfast in following my pull of my heart.
If anything, “Helplessness Blues” teaches me time and time again how I must be okay with the question of where my life is going as opposed to trying to find the answer. It’s a song rooted in being true to the self and determining each step taken without always knowing where it will lead. The harmonies alone build on the sense of anticipation of what could be, even though most remains unseen. With every listen, those layered chords and echoed words level me to my most vulnerable. On the hardest of days, “Helplessness Blues” helps me believe that when I come to the end I will have gained the simple accolades that come with a life that was lived well—a life that may never go beyond the acreage that I have created, but still a meaningful life all the same.
Cristina Martin is editor-in-chief of WonderRoot’s Loose Change magazine and hearts Atlanta big time.
