Sailing

Come Sail Away. By Styx. Not to be confused with Sail Away by Randy Newman. The first tells the story of a man initially confounded by apparitions he sees in the sky above his ship. He figures they must be angels. The latter is a tongue so far in the cheek that it nearly breaks out the other side version of a slave trader trying to convince an African to climb aboard his ship. Sail away, indeed.

In the Styx song, this initially confused captain of a lonely vessel is eventually convinced to climb aboard a starship as it heads toward the sky. He is released from his worries and self-doubt in which he was mired before aliens came to release him from his seagoing reverie. They sang to him this song of hope, and this is what they said: "Come sail away."

Meanwhile, in Newman's world, this horrible person makes his pitch: "In America you'll get food to eat. Won't have to run through the jungle and scuff up your feet." He insists that in America, "You'll just sing about Jesus and drink wine all day. It's great to be an American." He's singing a song that sounds just like freedom. Only it isn't.

Meanwhile, the captain of the Styx boat is being carried away by aliens. And when I was younger, an avid reader of the novels of Kurt Vonnegut Jr., I thought of Billy Pilgrim and the Tralfamadorians. I thought about how those invisible beings from another planet spirited Billy away from all the tough times in his life and for a long time this was a romantic ideal for me. A shimmering light at my window, and suddenly I am transported. 

It never occurred to me then that the Tralfamadorians may have represented a break with sanity for Billy. Or that the bright light was his passage to Heaven. Just like those last moments of the Styx song could be the ones just before the captain goes under for the last time. Styx is the river that separates us from the afterlife, after all. 

Meanwhile, Randy is luring potential slaves aboard his ship to sail across the ocean to Charleston Bay. Where his cargo would be sold at auction, and all those promises of safety, freedom and buckwheat cakes turned out to be a lie. "In America every man is free to take care of his home and his family."

What we might have expected from Mister Newman, but the vaguely oh-wow rockers from Chicago? 

I think maybe I should stick to Enya.