by Scott Samuelson
I had a long drive ahead of me. Sick of podcasts that all blur together, news programs with their predictable slants, and algorithm-controlled radio stations, I dug around in a pile of old CDs and found a mixtape labeled “Songs for Sisyphus,” compiled for me by my friend Jane Drexler (who also happens to be one of the world’s great teachers of philosophy).
The origin of this CD goes back to a conversation between me and Jane about Albert Camus’s famous essay “The Myth of Sisyphus,” which symbolizes the human condition with the image of the legendary Greek figure who’s on an endless loop of pushing a boulder up a mountain only to have it roll down again. The idea is that we inevitably project ideals only to have the universe make a mockery of them. Existence is just a series of rinse-and-repeat cycles of beauties and tragedies, desires and boredoms, endeavors and failures, rises and falls, ups and downs, lives and deaths, with no final end to redeem our labors—at least none that lasts longer than it takes for Sisyphus’s boulder to teeter atop the mountain.
Jane asked me what might be added to Sisyphus’s fate to make it bearable. “The first thing I’d want is some music,” I blurted out. Then we got into a discussion about what kind of music we’d play if we were in Sisyphus’s shoes.
Jane pointed out how the roots of all great American music are in something disturbingly like Sisyphus’s fate: the singing of Black Americans being forced into hard labor only to have the fruits of their labor brutally snatched from them. We talked about the sorrow songs. We talked about the hard and joyful wisdom of the blues. We wondered if the otherworldly hope of Sunday morning’s gospel music was a necessary complement to the this-worldly affirmations of Saturday night’s boogaloo. We marveled at the aptness of the name “rock and roll.”
A week later, we were trading mixtapes called “Songs for Sisyphus.” Read more »
Wine and music pairing is becoming increasingly popular, and the effectiveness of using music to enhance a wine tasting experience has received substantial empirical confirmation. (I summarized this data and the aesthetic significance of wine and music pairing 
That is, we had to talk about it. I thought of a musician as someone who made a living performing music. I didn’t do that. To be sure, I made some money playing around town in a rock band and I’d spent years learning the trumpet. I’d marched in parades and at football games; I’d played concerts with various groups. But I wasn’t a full-time, you know, a professional musician, a real musician. Gren insisted that I was a musician because I played music, a lot, and was committed to it. That’s all that’s necessary.
Perhaps imprudently, your humble blogger continues to toil in the philosophy mines for blogging material, even in this stressful time. And there will be such postage eventually, of that you can be sure! However, prudence enough remains to prevent him from posting half-baked nonsense; so in the interim, let us return once again to the podcast, and enjoy some fine music while we wait.
Last time
Jon Hassell is one of America’s musical treasures, and I’ve been listening to his music for forty years, so when I heard he needed help for his medical care, I decided to make a mix of his music. This mix actually grew into two mixes, so look for another one next month. This one features Jon playing with other musicians, and part two will feature other musicians whom Jon has influenced (and a bit more from Jon himself).
