"Wonder had gone away, and he had forgotten that all life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other."
--H.P. Lovecraft, The Silver Key
This morning while working out under heavy-ish iron I found myself able to recite every line of Orson Welles dramatic lead-in to “Defender.” Before he said it, in my best Wells impression.
I hadn’t heard this monologue in years. Yet I could speak it aloud without error. How? It was burned into my brain when I was 15 and ready to run through a brick wall for Manowar. I had to go to war against false metal, you see.
This has something to teach us about oral culture.
Imagine dudes hearing Njal’s Saga, or the Iliad, in some smoky Icelandic 14th century feasting hall on the eve of some great real battle, where on the morn they’d be standing in the shield-wall with spear and axe.
Imagine their emotional state, their focus, as they channeled the bard’s song. They’d remember every word. And pass it down to the next generation, without error.
Warrior stuff, that Welles channels here. Oral cultures remembered epic poetry through a system of formulaic phrasing, rhythmic structure, and thematic repetition rather than rote memorization. There is a rhythm to Welles’ phrasing that makes it stick, IMO.
Manowar isn’t known for subtlety, but it was a masterstroke to hire the legendary actor and filmmaker. See more of how that all unfolded here: https://wellesnet.com/manowar-founder-recalls-heavy-metal-recordings-orson-welles/ I love this detail from Ross the Boss/Ross Friedman’s recounting of the story. Welles stepping out of his chariot and walking in the studio was like the coming of Odin:
“Let me tell you something, this man was a big man, Orson Welles, a huge guy in latter days,” Friedman recalled. “When he got out of the limousine … on 57th Street in Manhattan by the Carnegie – y’know, that neighborhood has some hot shit over there. When he stepped out into that neighborhood, women in mink coats were throwing themselves on him. It was just like ‘Oh, Orson, oh.’ It was like Frank Sinatra in the 40s. Seriously, I saw it with my own eyes. People were in awe of this man because he was so incredible.”
“He was a legendary guy, legendary maverick.”
“Defender” has likewise passed into metal legendry.
If you can’t get fired up for this song you might need to have your pulse checked by a professional. At the 1:50 mark I’m ready for battle. And ready to fight again at 4:12, after Ross’ ripping guitar solo, when Welles comes back in to echo Eric Adams’ powerhouse chorus.
If you haven’t heard it, fix that now.
Defender
Ride like the wind
Fight proud, my son
You’re the defender, God has sent
Manowar is still on my mind after the loss of Ross the Boss (how’s that for rhyme)? This picture of these two men, no longer with us at least on this material plane, moves me on this Metal Friday.
Raise a goblet to Ross and Welles and heavy metal and Manowar and oral poetry.
I just finished Crime and Punishment (Bantam Books 1958 edition, translated by Constance Garnett), and its story of Raskolnikov, an idealistic, poverty-stricken young man wracked with guilt after murdering a pawnbroker for what he believes to be a justified, if selfish, cause.
Here’s a few impressions/notes.
***
Among its lessons: Mere theory cannot survive life, and we cannot live by philosophy alone.
Utilitarianism (permitting acts however terrible if they lead to a greater good, under the rubric that ends justify the means) is seductive but pernicious; placing one’s own ego at the center of your existence (I’m more important/smarter/ideologically pure than my fellow man, and therefore my actions justified) is an error. Our attempts to try to implement constructed, top-down, logically sound societies like communism fail because they cannot account for human irrationality. Humans will be filed off to fit, or marched to the pit for the greater good.
People who set out to be Napoleon and stop at nothing to achieve greatness are not to be admired. When you view those who don’t share your grand visions as lice or vermin, you’ve erred.
We are romantic and irrational creatures; ignore human nature at your peril. It will push up through your theory and crack its very foundations.
Nihilism is seductive but ultimately an error. Life has incredible riches to offer, but we must surrender to it. Commit to this life, and to a higher power. Which even if you don’t believe in God means you must surrender to something beyond you. To love, of another being. To seeing another person for who they are, not as a means to an end.
When you turn the last page on this book you will be shaken … and uplifted. The suffering of the protagonist and his agonizing path to confession is like the interminable wait of the condemned man of Iron Maiden’s “Hallowed be thy Name.” It’s a story of claustrophobia and suffering but with great relief only expiation can bring, and the beginnings of renewal.
Crime and Punishment is a reminder that redemption is possible, even from the most grievous of sins.
We’ve all made terrible mistakes. I am sorry to those against whom I’ve sinned or been unjust. I accept the unjustness inflicted on me. Through suffering we can reach higher levels of consciousness.
***
I readoutside of fantasy and this book gets added to my list of recent recommendations. But you certainly don’t need me to tell you to read what is acknowledged as one of the greatest novels of all time.
The super, super- secret history of sword-and-sorcery is that there isn’t a secret at all.
Sword-and-sorcery, like all genres, was created with a series of small steps and missteps, right in public view.
It wasn’t heralded in 1929 with "The Shadow Kingdom" like Athena from the head of Zeus. It wasn’t conjured into being in 1961 in the pages of Amra/Ancalagon. It wasn’t animated with L. Sprague de Camp’s Swords & Sorcery anthology, or Lin Carter’s Flashing Swords.
It was assembled, slowly, over decades.
When I say in public, there is something interesting about the subgenre, hidden right in plain view.
More than any other genre of which I’m aware, sword-and-sorcery is defined by a visual aesthetic as much as literary. Art, particularly the work of Frank Frazetta, helped to define what we think of it today. In fact, if you want the easiest way to define S&S to someone brand-new to the genre, your best bet might be showing them a picture of Death Dealer or Conan the Adventurer. Its fans love the comics for a reason. The art of sword-and-sorcery takes a backseat to no other genre, save perhaps horror.
The term “sword-and-sorcery” was coined in the 60s, but the real work began in the 70s/80s/90s/00s, when fans began sifting through piles of pop culture detritus. Zebra paperbacks, Warren magazines, pinball machines, van art, RPGs, cartoons, and music.
It was kicked around in genre histories, specialty journals, websites, forums, YouTube videos and podcasts.
And eventually given form, of a sort.
Sword-and-sorcery is malleable and its boundaries, permeable. That doesn’t make it not a thing; that makes it an amorphous thing (or Thog). Just like every other genre. Even older, seemingly more defined and mined genres like horror or mystery begin to lose shape and fall apart or morph once you begin to probe at them too much.
Try to categorize Cormac McCarthy’s The Road or Stephen King’s The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon … I dare you.
The term sword-and-sorcery is a helpful signpost pointing not to a destination, but a vicinity.
This is OK, really. Sometimes there are no easy answers—or any answers at all. We all like a good internet debate/fight once in a while, but in the end (as Kurt Vonnegut once said) we’re putting on armor to attack a hot fudge sundae or banana split. Be wary of those who shout the loudest.
Uncertainty and permeable borders are OK. This is art, not engineering. I think this uncertainty is a feature, not a bug. It helps the genre grow and remain vital. Borders give form and structure, no borders is shapeless void. Malleable borders give form and structure while leaving room for expansion.
This is the healthiest type of genre. It keeps the conversation going instead of closing it off.
And I think sword-and-sorcery is healthier now than it has been in a long time. Just as sword-and-sorcery was growing in new directions in the 60s and 70s it continues to grow today. Verses and chapters continue to be added, edge cases debated.
RIP Ross the Boss/Ross Friedman, co-founder and ex-guitarist of the mighty Manowar. Ross played on Manowar's classic first six albums, Battle Hymns through Kings of Metal.
The news hit today that he has passed into Valhalla, age 72. He was diagnosed with ALS last month.
In honor of his mighty legacy, "Mountains," from Sign of the Hammer.
The lyrics for this one are particularly on point.
Like a man is a mountainside
Greatness waits for those who try
None can teach you, it's all inside
Just climb
I am in the ground, I am in the air
I am all, I live in the hearts of men
I am the call to greatness, not all can hear
I awaken the creator in those who dare
And the day will come when we all must die
And enter the mountainside
Ross climbed the mountain and experienced life at its very peak.
He is where eagles fly, and will live on in the hearts of men.
Only one “other” vote” was a surprise, but it led to a pretty good suggestion: Thoughts on what you consider the best yet most obscure S&S film - can be animated or live action.
The other mild surprise was receiving more votes for “what I’ve learned after 1,000 posts” than anticipated. I think I will tackle that topic, and the “other” suggestion, after writing the super, super-secret history of sword-and-sorcery.
The only problem is, there isn’t one, and I was being a bit cheeky with that option… but hey there’s always more to say about S&S. I’m a man of my word.
To make it more fun I’ve added a poll. Click here to take it. Screenshot at right so you can see what options you have to choose from. But your original ideas are welcome below ... the weirder the better.