With My Life

In their early days, Shai Hulud was a fantastic band.

Really.

In 1996, when the A Profound Hatred of Man ep came out, I read something that described it as "a few songs short of leaving you an empty husk."

That was exactly right. That was exactly it. Only three songs, but a hell of a cd. Brutal, angry, passionate, and just so damn aggressive. And the kid doing the vocals? He was something like 15 years old at the time.

Then they came out with Hearts Once Nourished With Hope and Compassion. That was pretty damn good too. Nine songs (one of them a remake of something from Profound).

Then there were a bunch of line-up changes, old members out, new members in. But they still managed to put out some good music-- three songs on a split with Another Victim, another three songs on a split with Indecision.

All of that stuff was good.

It was angry, but it was a good kind of angry. It was the kind of angry that the best hardcore bands capture so well, the kind of angry that made me fall in love with Vision of Disorder and Sick Of It All and so many others. A certain sort of righteous anger. Young people disgusted with the world's failure to live up to it's potential, who could see something better possible, and who could no longer accept the less-than that all around them.

Good, good stuff.

There was a long lack of output while the band toured (and toured and toured) and changed members over and over and over again (to the point where there were more ex-members than there were recorded songs in their repertoire).

A few years back, they returned with That Within Blood Ill-Tempered. That was decent. But it wasn't great. It was a little too... self-conscious? It was like Shai Hulud was very aware of themselves, of what they'd been up to that point, and they were sort of trying to be it even more. It was good, but it didn't have the energy or spontaneity or whatever of the earlier stuff.

And then, more recently, they delivered Misanthropy Pure. Hate to say it, don't want to hurt any feelings, but I don't know. I just can't listen to it. I'd love to see them live again (saw them three times, they were always good), but I just can't listen to the disc. Listening to it is sort of like listening to a less-interesting band whose main influence was early Shai Hulud albums (which, with all those new members, is basically the case). I just can't do it.

But, like I say, if they came around Syracuse, I'd go see them again. I'd even buy another album if they put it out. Always the optimist, you know? Always hoping.

Not too long ago, I pulled out Hearts Once Nourished With Hope and Compassion, listened to it a few times on my daily commutes.

It's still a good disc.

Listening to it now, though, there was just something... different about it.

Rather, something different about me.

I didn't quite get it, but then this one line jumped out at me. This one really good line, this one line that I always loved.

It's from the opening track, a song that's kind of about being strong, rising above the crap that lies all around, being moral.

It's toward the end of the song.

"I will serve as an example..." the kid screams.

"By defending those I love with my life."

I used to like that. I thought that that was pretty profound. The whole notion of self-sacrifice. The whole "there is no greater love" aspect. "With my life."

I still like that.

But not so long ago, it stopped being profound.

Four years ago, roughly.

Four years, two months, two and a half weeks ago, a little less roughly.

It's strange, and sort of hard to articulate, but as I was driving along listening and heard that line jump out at me, it occurred to me that that line-- that sentiment-- was no longer profound at all, but rather sort of kind of completely obvious.

Because from that first moment I held Sam in my hands, just staring into his eyes as my wife was wheeled down the hall for emergency surgery, from that first moment of just memorizing his face-- and before that, I think, before we even looked at each other, although that moment is the one my mind always goes back to-- it just seemed that that was a given. A part of the job. Obvious. My responsibility. My whole damn purpose. It was suddenly not profound at all, not poetic, not inspiring, to know, to say, to realize that without hesitation, without fear, without thought, I would place myself in front of anything, any danger, any hurt, and sewer clown (sorry, still reading It), to keep my wife and my son safe and happy and healthy.

It suddenly became obvious that I would stop toward the big barking mean looking dog, not away, when it came barreling toward the little red wagon I was pulling.

That I would step toward the swerving car muttering drunk anything anything anything, not away, when it seemed the least-bit threatening.

Listening to that song the other day, it was like a bit of epiphany.

I suddenly understood my mom's fearlessness when faced with snarling paper route dogs that had me trapped on a porch, in tears (even though she's always been a little scared of other dogs).

I suddenly understood my mom's raised voice and "just go ahead and fuck with me, punk" eyes when facing (adult) bullies in church or school (even though she's always been a little bit afraid to have her voice heard, a little bit reluctant to resist her own bullies).

Something happens that first time you make eye contact.

Everything changes.