References for this post:
“I Wanna Be” by Stance Punks. YouTube video link
Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus, New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf, 1955. Second Vintage International Edition, 2018. Translated by Justin O’Brien.
This post contains references to suicide. If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, please call 988 right away for 24/7 help!
I’ve always enjoyed the anime Soul Eater (currently available on Crunchy Roll). Whether it’s the utterly unique, visually arresting animation, the wonderful characterization, the biting satire of the “Holy Sword Excalibur”, the story of facing fears and growing up into a world of infinite possibilities — there’s much I have loved about it. It also happens to have what I consider the best anime theme of all time: “I Wanna Be” by the Japanese punk band Stance Punks. In my opinion, no other theme more thoroughly captures or more deeply represents the spirit of the show than this song as the theme of Soul Eater. Despite how much I have loved this song, because of the language barrier, it is only recently I learned its meaning.
“I Wanna Be” is a song about overcoming despair. He opens by describing his expectation to “crush the here and now” only to fail and find himself in dark despair, screaming to pierce it, but the sound does not carry through it so that anyone can hear. Then he remembers hearing of someone who died by suicide.
“On a winter’s night that one kid jumped down — it was the wrong kind of freedom — jumped down without ever understanding what the heck evil even is.”
“That foolish me somehow admired that child. Since then, much time has passed. Even though I’ve lived for myself up until now, I still don’t understand anything.”
Then, everything changes for him as he begins to reflect on that death differently:
“You have taught me softly, even the true meaning of eternity.”
“I wanna be — HERE! Notice it, I’m here! Who are you and why? Tell me, I’m here!”
“I wanna be — singing and yelling a song of burning passion, our song of hope that won’t despair of reality.”
“I wanna be — born on the Star of Dreams. Then I ought to make it in time by riding on tonight’s blowing wind — and find what’s next [for me].”
“Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”
“I wanna be — can you hear it — here forever.”
I have worked with many young people struggling with suicide. For this person to fall into despair, stare suicide in the face, find meaning in life and eternity and burst into chorus: “I wanna be — HERE!” It brings me to tears every time. I never thought that a Japanese punk song, or any punk song, could make me cry. Sometimes you choose your journey. Sometimes the journey chooses you.
Which brings me to Albert Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus. What does a mid-20th Century French existentialist have to do with Japanese punk music? Quite a bit, it turns out. Camus published this work in 1955, as France was undergoing its post-war reconstruction. France had suffered tremendous betrayal and atrocity throughout World War 2, much of it in the name of religion. Today, the religious dynamics of Nazism do not receive widespread discussion. However, for many in France and throughout Europe, they constituted a massive societal betrayal that did incalculable harm. It left many in France in the darkness of despair. Having tried to “seize the day”, only to be crushed down and bereft of the usual avenues of restoration.
Camus begins The Myth of Sisyphus like this: “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.” From there I got the sense when I read it that he was going to explore this from the standpoint of what happens when all the props of life are kicked away, all the externalized sources of meaning and purpose crumble under their own weight get reduced to absurdity? When there is me and only me, what then? He says on page 64, “I draw from the absurd three consequences, which are my revolt, my freedom, and my passion. By the mere activity of consciousness I transform into a rule of life what was and invitation to death — and I refuse suicide.”
From there, the book includes themes I find similar to “I Wanna Be”. Themes of creative energy and self discovery. He concludes with Sisyphus of Greek mythology, condemned to roll a great stone up a mountain, only to have it roll back to the bottom, in an eternal cycle of useless labor. He concludes: “All Sisyphus’ silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is his thing . . . I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one’s burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises the rocks. He too concludes that all is well . . . The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy” (p. 123).
Hope where there seems to be none. Hope emerging from the struggle itself with life’s absurdity. Hope when all that props up our lives gets kicked away, and there’s only us. Even there, we find hope. The hope that makes us break out in chorus: “I wanna be — HERE!”