Now, let me listen to Space Hymns for you. This is how I hear it. The sun is fading, wreckage strewn, the earth is losing life and light. The Life Child who came to free our spirits, we left hanging on a hill. The singer is visiting from a forgotten place, is lost here on earth, a place where people sing too but only the very last song, their very last chance. Ramases plaintively wonders how he will be able to communicate with the people of the earth when he has travelled so far across the universe for so long. While uncovering molecular delusions, amidst the plainchant, sitars and the lost cries of a prayer caller, he robustly oaths fuck. He’s touched the sun. He’s dedicated his many journeys to Quasar One. He’s seen a balloon off the surface of the moon and advises it to take it easy but the balloon, the earth people’s planet, explodes at the end of the song. Ramases’ fear for the earth and its hard to reason with inhabitants ultimately leads him to implore Jesus to return. With the right kind of acceptance of time, the seasons, the rotation of the earth and our humble place, we might just be able, face-to-face, take our place with the giver.
Ramases is a weary cosmic traveler. While he has hopes, it is his fears which are most articulated and worked through. He seems as a melancholic angel, witnessing and lamenting the desolate scene before him, hardly able to intervene beyond a call to faith.