Things are not always what they seem. You know, Phil Groovy Collins is not – and never will be – Lenny Kravitz. How it could seem so is… unknown. But referencing Phil Groovy the other day reminded me that as much as I dislike most of this dude’s music, he continues to pop up in different areas of life.
One of my most highly annoying traits is my tendency to tune in to the music playing in public places, and then I grill my companions, “Name that tune!” So many of my friends are not particularly musical in the sense that identifying musicians and songs isn’t important to them – fair enough – and this activity is a little bit like torture. Somehow, though, I can’t help myself.
Years ago, in Iceland, I quizzed a friend over coffee at a long-defunct shopping mall café. It was Phil Groovy (what song, I no longer remember). Flustered, she blurted out, “Lenny Kravitz”. I’ve never forgotten this. No one wants to be put on the spot this way, and yet, I can’t stop myself from repeating this scene.
In fact last year in Iceland, with this same woman and her now-teenaged daughter (to give you an indication of the time lapse, the woman was pregnant with said daughter during the original name-that-tune incident), I subjected them both to this nonsensical game. We were eating dinner in a loud restaurant, and the music playing was so faint as to be unrecognizable. I was sure, though, that it was George Michael’s “Father Figure”. My friend’s daughter quietly used Shazam to try and pick up the sound and found that I was correct. “How are you even hearing it over all this noise?”
Who knows? This is just where my attention goes. And no matter what, Phil Groovy is never Lenny Kravitz.
But this theme – things not always being what they seem – is important. How many split-second judgments do we make just by looking at someone? How often do we just trust what is presented to us? Lately, having taken up reading and watching series and films more actively than I had in some time, I am struck by how often the theme arises.
In the tv series Silo, those living in the silo are shown the “outside” on a screen and they accept what they are shown. But is it real? Questioning the reality creates nothing but trouble.
In the series Dark Winds, a Native American woman cautions a tribal police officer, “There are those among us who are not what they seem”, seemingly referring to the new tribal deputy (who turns out to be an FBI plant on the reservation). The lieutenant character (the always lovely Zahn McClarnon) already seems aware of this truth but hasn’t yet let on. Sometimes there are reasons for failing to acknowledge reality — for better or worse.
In the tv series Fellow Travelers, young gay men working for the US government during the McCarthy era are forced to hide their identities (in the face of insane hypocrisy – nothing new there). While the whole story is compelling, the idea of surface-level appearance remains acute. Matt Bomer’s character plays the dutiful heterosexual man, marrying and having a family, but leading a double life. Many characters did by necessity. But as time wore on, and the characters make their way into the 1970s and 80s, and a time of new openness, his friends’ lives opened as well. They stopped hiding. But it was not until his character was confronted by the death of the love of his life that he could stop living a lie. To all outward appearances, his character had seemed to have it all, but in hiding his reality, he suffered and lost an unimaginable amount.
We never know what is going on just under the surface. And even when we do, it’s often easier to let it be, not to acknowledge the truth. What someone has suffered or been damaged by, what has hurt and wounded them. Whether it’s searing loss that hasn’t been adequately dealt with, or repeated exposure to the torture of Phil Groovyesque name-that-tune sessions, nothing, and no one, is ever quite what it seems.