Davey Moore

When you were young...the world was better, wasn't it? Nostalgia is a hell of a trick. Despite what your memory tells you, things weren't as great as they seemed, and for some, when they were young, it was hell. Ask Elie Wiesel.

If you've heard of Steven Erikson, you'll probably feel the same way as I do, that he has written the greatest series of fantasy books in history with his series 'Tales from the Malazan Book of the Fallen.' It isn't just quality fantasy, it can hold it's own against other epic literature. It's profound in the themes it introduces, it's staggering scope, and the beautifully rendered characters. I know, I'm supposed to be singing the praises of Jeff Mangum, the Thomas Pynchon or JD Salinger of the Elephant 6 Collective. But there's something that Steven Erikson wrote in the second book of the series, 'Deadhouse Gates', a quote which illuminates and reveals many themes within Aeroplane:

That's the central theme of Aeroplane. Children are dying. And Jeff Mangum is having a nervous breakdown because he can't save them. He wants to take the burdens of the world on his shoulder and make everything OK, but he can't. Nobody can. And that's the tragedy of humanity. Children are dying. I think a large part of Jeff Mangum is inner child. That's how he can sing with such sincerity, seemingly brushing cynicism aside. And this inner child has fallen in love with a ghost he will never meet.

And in my dreams you're alive, and you're crying, as your mouth moves into mine.

They call themselves fuzz-folk. I call them geniuses. Let's ignore the great songwriting for a second and just look at instruments. There isn't a single instrument or single studio effect that is unnecessary. In fact, this is probably my favorite use of horns, ever. Another thing is the simplicity of the chords. We've seen these things millions of times before, yet they don't seem stale or cliché, thanks to the conviction of Mangum's singing and the background instrumentation.

If Mangum stays a recluse for the rest of his days, I wouldn't mind. He can't top this album. And the final sounds on the final song of this album speak volumes as he puts his guitar down and walks away. Sometimes, letting go is better. He deserves happiness, away from any sort of spotlight. I don't want another Cobain.

There's nothing I can say about this album that hasn't already been said. But I'll try and give you a bit of the back story. One day Jeff Mangum found a book, the diary of a young woman. Her name was Anne Frank, and he hadn't heard of her before, despite the amount of attention the book received. That speaks of a naivete and innocence that seems to be lacking in most adults. Once again, that inner child aspect which is so important, a side of his personality he seemed to preserve. I mention these things only because I believe them to be absolutely essential to develop an understanding of Mangum, and as a result his magnum opus, or should I say mangum opus? Zing.

Anyway, as he read the book, he wept, he wept because he couldn't save her. The entire time he read it, he wished he had a time machine so he could go back and save her. Anything would do, but maybe the best answer is he wanted an Aeroplane, and he would sail across the sea, over to Holland, the year being 1945, and save her. She haunted him in his dreams. There are many clues that the girl he is addressing is in fact a ghost and nothing more than a voice in a book.

There's a question of narration in this album. I reckon the majority of the time it's from one perspective. However, I don't know exactly if the narrator IS Mangum, or if it's a composite that represents Mangum. Does it really make a difference? There are some things about Mangum's life that we know, things that give us big clues as to it being him. Jeff Mangum's brother killed himself. To quote Two Headed Boy Pt. 2, “Brother see we are one in the same, and you left with your head filled with flames”

Maybe the question of who's perspective is irrelevant. Maybe the only thing that matters is that the perspective is so unique. Mangum seems to have two struggling aspects withing him, fighting for dominance. Maybe some people can be pushed to the edge of schizophrenia through natural means. Mangum seems to have reached it. It's almost like he has two heads. Freud may have an answer to who the two headed by might be. You know the phrase, don't let your little head control your big head? Wink, wink. Maybe that's what the two headed boy is.

Something happens inside of us when we grow up. In a way, our inner child slowly dies and withers within us. Mangum sees that as a tragedy. I do too. Children are dying.

And when we break...

I've never read the diary of this girl, but looking a series of quotes, they send chills through my spine. Empathy flows through me as I see what Mangum saw in her, her eloquence combined with the circumstances of her life are haunting. And yet I am slightly disturbed as I wonder if Mangum's obsession over Anne Frank was paternal, wishing nothing but her safety, or was it romantic? Look at these lyrics:
Those final three words especially raise questions in my mind. She was only 15. But she wrote as an adult. Atrocity can age you awfully fast. I quickly shake the question from my head. Part of me doesn't want to know, and the other part of me realizes that right now in China, children are being kidnapped and sold on the black market. In Africa, warlords inject children with drugs and use them as expendable soldiers. Warlords are chopping off the hands of children as an example to an entire village. I think of Apocalypse Now, and a speech Marlon Brando made, about the Vietcong and how he walked into a burning village and in the center he was a pile of hands. Tiny little hands. Hands. Children are dying.

And when we break, we wait for our miracles, God is a place where some holy spectacle lies. And when we break, we wait for our miracles, God is a place we will wait for the rest of our lives.

And then I think of the words of a young girl, frantically scrawled in cheap ink, in a precious little diary her mother bought her as she hides from monsters, the pages lit by a little candle almost at it's end, a whole family trying to hide from something which was inevitable. Trying to avoid an atrocity. Children are dying.

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The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.