Cowboy Bebop Saved My Life
Has there ever been an anime more perfect than the Space Opera meets Western meets Jazz solo known as Cowboy Bebop? Rhetorical question. Obviously the answer is no.
I started watching circa September 2, 2001, (merely a week, or so, before Nine-Eleven destroyed my nations uniquely American sense of invincibility) on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. It was the first anime I ever seriously watched an anime. I think it may have been the first time I ever seriously watched anything. And fuck, the show was cool, in every sense the word was ever meant to evoke and invoke.
As an awkward teenage boy, the gunfights, spaceships, and frenetic saxophone, mixed with tantalizing bits of fan service captured my imagination in a way perfectly designed to tap that angst and loneliness so pervasive amongst young White men. (Though, being Jewish, I wonder if I was less predisposed to devolve more towards sappy blog posts instead of violent mass murder.) It touched just the right nerve at just the right time in my life.
See, at that point I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't eating much. I wasn't talking to people. I was adrift. I was a rock. I was an island. While I didn't realize it at the time, I was in danger of becoming so untethered from what makes us human that I almost drowned. (A frequent problem in my life, actually, if you've ever known me IRL.)
But Cowboy Bebop saved me. It gave me an outlet for that deep sadness that crawled up like bed-covers in the hours between midnight and 4 AM. It captured all the feelings I had, crumpled them into a vaguely drooling sense of "awesome" and... fucking CATAPULTED that shit into the vastness of a world so different from my own and simultaneously so similar.
I, too, imagined myself as a bounty hunter bringing in bad guys. I, too, imagined myself learning the arts of June Keet Do. I, too, imagined myself crossing the vastness of space (a metaphor for my own personal loneliness) to discover friends, adopt a cute Pembroke Welsh-Corgi, and undo the horrors of my youth like Spike Siegel did. (Yes, Spike is obviously a Jewish character.)
And goddamn, that soundtrack! I don't know how many of you ever grew-up loving, learning, and playing Jazz music like I did, but... just... damn! Written by the infamous Yoko Kanno (NOT Yoko Ono....) and her band that was created solely for this endeavor, The Seatbelts. I mean, how isn't that just the coolest band name ever? Again, rhetorical question, of course.
The music was the heartbeat of that show. It pulsed life into every scene, into each poignant moment like the same blood I felt pounding in my own limbs as I tried to contain the frenzy of emotions that swirled in my head before I discovered this show. Instead, I learned to dance. I learned to gyrate and twist like a martial-artist caught in the middle of a break-dance circle.
The tracks ranged from incredbily technical and complex Jazz pieces to hard Blues melodies, from Western twangs to Operatic choirs, and even Heavy Metal as well as Electronica. One of my favorite tracks is the live version of "Mushroom Hunting" played during one of the very, very, very, VERY few concerts performed by Yoko Kanno and The Seatbelts. Just listen to that saxophonist's solo. It is, was, perfect.
But I digress. Cowboy Bebop taught me that friendship matters. That doing the right and moral thing, even if it hurts (especially when it hurts) is more important than just doing whatever makes you feel better, because causing others hurt is wrong, ignoring that we are all people is the greatest sin. Only by our collective debts to each other as human beings, friends, family, and communities do we realize the truth: there is freedom and happiness. These aren't chains. They are the soul's nourishment.
Another writer, named Stokes, brilliantly devoted some time to a much deeper analyzation of a few of the show's episodes. (Actually they have written in-depth discussion of nearly all the episodes it seems, but still, anywhere is fair to start.) I highly suggest you check it out. Seriously, he really does Over-Think It in the best way possible.
Aside from the weightier topics, we also get lots of light-hearted pieces as well, like scrounging for Betamax tapes in a ruined shell of our own Earth; a guide to making the perfect Bonzai tree; as well as an omage to the original Alien with a side of an Aesopian lesson on leaving food in the fridge. And that's only just a few off the top of my head!
But the most important lesson of Cowboy Bebop that I learned was this: failure. Yes, you can be the good guy -- good person -- and do everything right, but still fall flat on your fucking face. In fact, that's actually the expected outcome! What matters more is that you get back up and continue trying. That you keep struggling against whatever it is you've got -- fate, love, poverty, loneliness, etc.
What's the line again? Never give up. Never surrender.
(Although, I realize that this could also be the EXACT WORST ADVICE to ever give certain people: neo-Nazis, stalkers, rapists, murderers, and so on. I still think it applies in the general sense but good works and living a moral life. Whatever those are.)
Anyways, so yes, Cowboy Bebop saved my life. It filled me with a semblance of a moral center and purpose. At least until other tragedies later in my life required more extraordinary measures than an anime, even one as badass as this one. Still, the lessons learned, references acquired, and awesomness inhaled have served me well on life's journeys, especially when I'm still awake at 4 AM and unable to sleep. I just think of Spike, Jet, Faye, Ed, and Ein, my first friends of the Dead Man's hour.
Cheers
As an awkward teenage boy, the gunfights, spaceships, and frenetic saxophone, mixed with tantalizing bits of fan service captured my imagination in a way perfectly designed to tap that angst and loneliness so pervasive amongst young White men. (Though, being Jewish, I wonder if I was less predisposed to devolve more towards sappy blog posts instead of violent mass murder.) It touched just the right nerve at just the right time in my life.
See, at that point I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't eating much. I wasn't talking to people. I was adrift. I was a rock. I was an island. While I didn't realize it at the time, I was in danger of becoming so untethered from what makes us human that I almost drowned. (A frequent problem in my life, actually, if you've ever known me IRL.)
But Cowboy Bebop saved me. It gave me an outlet for that deep sadness that crawled up like bed-covers in the hours between midnight and 4 AM. It captured all the feelings I had, crumpled them into a vaguely drooling sense of "awesome" and... fucking CATAPULTED that shit into the vastness of a world so different from my own and simultaneously so similar.
I, too, imagined myself as a bounty hunter bringing in bad guys. I, too, imagined myself learning the arts of June Keet Do. I, too, imagined myself crossing the vastness of space (a metaphor for my own personal loneliness) to discover friends, adopt a cute Pembroke Welsh-Corgi, and undo the horrors of my youth like Spike Siegel did. (Yes, Spike is obviously a Jewish character.)
And goddamn, that soundtrack! I don't know how many of you ever grew-up loving, learning, and playing Jazz music like I did, but... just... damn! Written by the infamous Yoko Kanno (NOT Yoko Ono....) and her band that was created solely for this endeavor, The Seatbelts. I mean, how isn't that just the coolest band name ever? Again, rhetorical question, of course.
The music was the heartbeat of that show. It pulsed life into every scene, into each poignant moment like the same blood I felt pounding in my own limbs as I tried to contain the frenzy of emotions that swirled in my head before I discovered this show. Instead, I learned to dance. I learned to gyrate and twist like a martial-artist caught in the middle of a break-dance circle.
The tracks ranged from incredbily technical and complex Jazz pieces to hard Blues melodies, from Western twangs to Operatic choirs, and even Heavy Metal as well as Electronica. One of my favorite tracks is the live version of "Mushroom Hunting" played during one of the very, very, very, VERY few concerts performed by Yoko Kanno and The Seatbelts. Just listen to that saxophonist's solo. It is, was, perfect.
But I digress. Cowboy Bebop taught me that friendship matters. That doing the right and moral thing, even if it hurts (especially when it hurts) is more important than just doing whatever makes you feel better, because causing others hurt is wrong, ignoring that we are all people is the greatest sin. Only by our collective debts to each other as human beings, friends, family, and communities do we realize the truth: there is freedom and happiness. These aren't chains. They are the soul's nourishment.
Another writer, named Stokes, brilliantly devoted some time to a much deeper analyzation of a few of the show's episodes. (Actually they have written in-depth discussion of nearly all the episodes it seems, but still, anywhere is fair to start.) I highly suggest you check it out. Seriously, he really does Over-Think It in the best way possible.
Aside from the weightier topics, we also get lots of light-hearted pieces as well, like scrounging for Betamax tapes in a ruined shell of our own Earth; a guide to making the perfect Bonzai tree; as well as an omage to the original Alien with a side of an Aesopian lesson on leaving food in the fridge. And that's only just a few off the top of my head!
But the most important lesson of Cowboy Bebop that I learned was this: failure. Yes, you can be the good guy -- good person -- and do everything right, but still fall flat on your fucking face. In fact, that's actually the expected outcome! What matters more is that you get back up and continue trying. That you keep struggling against whatever it is you've got -- fate, love, poverty, loneliness, etc.
What's the line again? Never give up. Never surrender.
(Although, I realize that this could also be the EXACT WORST ADVICE to ever give certain people: neo-Nazis, stalkers, rapists, murderers, and so on. I still think it applies in the general sense but good works and living a moral life. Whatever those are.)
Anyways, so yes, Cowboy Bebop saved my life. It filled me with a semblance of a moral center and purpose. At least until other tragedies later in my life required more extraordinary measures than an anime, even one as badass as this one. Still, the lessons learned, references acquired, and awesomness inhaled have served me well on life's journeys, especially when I'm still awake at 4 AM and unable to sleep. I just think of Spike, Jet, Faye, Ed, and Ein, my first friends of the Dead Man's hour.
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