Category: music
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These are the deep questions I ask myself...
The other night we were playing “Name that Disney movie” while shuffling soundtracks on Spotify. The question I have rattling around in my head two days later is this:
Do I like the Moana songs so much because I like their distinctive style? Because I do think that Lin-Manuel Miranda’s approach feels and sounds very different than what, say, Robert Lopez and Kristin Anderson-Lopez do in Frozen or what Randy Newman does in half the Pixar movies ever made…
Or am I just drawn to them because I love Lin-Manuel so much that I will irrationally support and be attracted to whatever he produces?
This question bothers me more than I’d like.
Land of My Sojourn
A Rich Mullins song as timely today as it was when it came out back in 1993.
And the coal trucks come a-runnin’
With their bellies full of coal
And their big wheels a-hummin’
Down this road that lies open like the soul of a woman
Who hid the spies who were lookin’
For the land of the milk and the honey
And this road she is a woman
She was made from a rib
Cut from the sides of these mountains
Oh these great sleeping Adams
Who are lonely even here in paradise
Lonely for somebody to kiss them
And I’ll sing my song and I’ll sing my song
In the land of my sojourn
And the lady in the harbor
She still holds her torch out
To those huddled masses who are
Yearning for a freedom but still it eludes them
The immigrant’s children see their brightest dreams shattered
Here on the New Jersey shoreline in the
Greed and the glitter of those high-tech casinos
Some mendicants wander off into a cathedral
And they stoop in the silence
And there their prayers are still whispered
And I’ll sing their song, and I’ll sing their song
In the land of my sojourn
Nobody tells you when you get born here
How much you’ll come to love it
And how you’ll never belong here
So I call you my country
And I’ll be lonely for my home
And I wish that I could take you there with me
And down the brown brick spine
Of some dirty blind alley
All those drain pipes are drippin’ out
The last Sons Of Thunder
While off in the distance the smoke stacks were belching back
This city’s best answer
And the countryside was pocked
With all of those mail pouch posters
Thrown up on the rotting sideboards of these
Rundown stables like the one that Christ was born in
When the old world started dying
And the new world started coming on
And I’ll sing His song, and I’ll sing His song
In the land of my sojourn
Andrew Peterson and Friends: The Ragamuffin Album, Live at the Ryman
Last Sunday night I had the privilege of attending an Andrew Peterson-organized and -led concert honoring the legacy of Rich Mullins at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. Peterson and his cadre are roughly my age, and we share a deep debt to Mullins, who in his all-too-short musical career penned songs that showed that Christian music could be artistic, poetic, and honest in ways we hadn’t before seen. (Andrew wrote an essay for the concert booklet telling his Rich Mullins story that’s well worth a read. It’s posted on The Rabbit Room.)
This year is the 20th anniversary of Mullins’ death in a car accident, and served as an opportunity for Peterson to round up his friends and prepare the music. The Ryman was packed to capacity with an audience that clearly loves Rich’s music just as much as the musicians themselves do; the concert was punctuated with opportunities for the audience to sing along, starting from an impromptu acapella chorus of “Awesome God”, which Peterson led “just to get it out of the way”. (While it’s perhaps Mullins’ best known song to the general public, it’s certainly not his favorite among his more devoted fans.)
Peterson and friends followed a concert format that he has perfected over years of touring his Behold The Lamb of God Christmas tour. The first half of the concert rotated in each of the guest artists to sing a Mullins song of their choice, with AP sneaking a few of his own choices in along the way.
When we hit intermission I told my wife that I couldn’t think of another Rich song that I was disappointed that they hadn’t played in the first half. The set list:
- “Awesome God” - AP
- “Calling Out Your Name” - AP
- “Boy Like Me/Man Like You” - AP
- “Hard to Get” - Andy Gullahorn
- “Cry The Name” - Jill Phillips
- “What Susan Said” - Andrew Osenga
- “The Howling” - Jeremy Casella
- “Screen Door” (complete w/ cups) - Brandon Heath & Mitch McVicker
- “You Did Not Have A Home” - Finnegan Bell
- “Elijah” - Matt Giraud
- “Buenos Noches from Nacogdoches” - Leigh Nash
- “Bound to Come Some Trouble” - Mitch McVicker
- “If I Stand” - AP
The second half of the concert brought each of those artists back out in turn to perform note-for-note versions of each song from Rich’s masterpiece A Liturgy, A Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band. A string section played the original string charts as provided by Rich’s producer Reed Arvin (who himself was present and played the piano on “Creed” midway through the second half).
To my critical ear they were indeed almost exactly note-for-note and lick-for-lick. Gabe Scott had his hammered dulcimer skills tested and found awesome. My specific criteria for this evaluation was the little turn from the second verse into the pre-chorus of “Peace” - there’s a drum fill, a bass slide, and a little guitar riff that come together in a sublime little moment that I’m probably the only person in the world who cares about. They nailed it. The only place they diverged was I think they gave Andy Osenga an extra couple choruses to play a smoking guitar solo on the end of “How To Grow Up Big and Strong”… but ain’t nobody gonna complain about that.
The second half setlist:
- “Here In America” - AP
- “Isaiah 52:10” - Jill Phillips
- “The Color Green” - AP
- “Hold Me Jesus” - Brandon Heath
- “Creed” - AP, Andy Gullahorn, and Jill Phillips
- “Peace” - Andy Gullahorn
- “78 Eatonwood Green” - Gabe Scott on the hammered dulcimer
- “Hard” - Finnegan Bell
- “I’ll Carry On” - Jeremy Casella
- “You Gotta Get Up” - Leigh Nash
- “How To Grow Up Big and Strong” - Andrew Osenga
- “Land of My Sojourn” - AP
Even they they weren’t quite done. Peterson brought the full cast of musicians out and led the (now standing) audience in “Step By Step” (with guest vocals by Peterson’s daughter Skye) and the call-and-response of “I See You”, which itself leads back in to one final chorus of “Step By Step”. After some final applause, Peterson did his trademark exit, singing the first line of the Doxology, and then exiting the stage as the audience finished singing it. (1200 people singing the Doxology in the old Ryman auditorium: chills.)
Hearing so many of Rich’s songs in one sitting highlighted both the artistry and prophetic nature of his lyrics. For instance, the last few lines from “Hard”:
I am a good midwestern boy
I give an honest day’s work when I can get it
I don’t cheat on my taxes, I don’t cheat on my girl
I’ve got values that would make the White House jealous
Peterson wondered aloud (perhaps just as much as he dared) whether Rich had any idea those words would still resonate so loudly 25 years after he wrote them. But the lines that stood out even more loudly to me were from “Land of My Sojourn”:
And the lady in the harbor
She still holds her torch out
To those huddled masses who are
Yearning for a freedom that still eludes them
The immigrant’s children see their brightest dreams shattered
Here on the New Jersey shoreline in the
Greed and the glitter of those high-tech casinos
Some mendicants wander off into a cathedral
And they stoop in the silence
And there their prayers are still whispered
And I’ll sing their song, and I’ll sing their song
In the land of my sojourn
The list of concerts I’ve attended isn’t as long as I’d like - and shorter thanks to the U2 concert in St. Louis getting cancelled last weekend - but Sunday night at the Ryman has to be right up there at the top of the list. Peterson posted on Facebook the next day that it might have been his favorite concert ever. I’d be inclined to agree with him.
A little random follow-up
Nearly a year ago I wrote a post dismayed about a church looking for a part-time Director of Music with almost unbelievable qualifications. Just to recap, they were looking for:
Significant musical experience in performing and directing a contemporary band along with experience in songwriting and production. Must be able to incorporate strings, percussion, and other instruments into contemporary-band driven arrangements Ability to work with and train vocalists in singing of parts Ability to incorporate backing tracks and loops into regular Sunday and special services Minimum of bachelor’s degree in music and/or 5 years’ related church or industry experience. Possessing an MDiv or MA in theology is ideal.
All that in a part-time, pay commensurate with experience position.
I ran across my old post at random this morning and decided to revisit that church’s website to see if they had ever found such a Director of Music.
So far as I can tell, the position remains empty; the job posting is still there, with only one small edit from last year: the “Possessing an MDiv or MA in theology”, while ideal, was perhaps a lot to ask, so it has been removed.
I wonder how long they’ll have to keep looking?
On Watching the Tonys for the First Time
Last Sunday night I sat down with my family and watched the Tony Awards ceremony. (The Tonys are given out yearly to award the best in musical and stage theater, similar to the Oscars for film or the Grammys for music.)
I’d never watched the Tonys before. I’m usually an Oscars guy, and every once in a while I’ll watch the Grammys (or at least that year when Arcade Fire was up for a bunch of awards), but the Tonys? Nope.
Then Hamilton came along, and we had an excuse. It’s been a bit of an obsession in our house, so an opportunity to see a performance from the show, and to see if it would win all the awards? Gotta watch it. (How much of an obsession, you ask? In our house, now, if the girls want to know the time, they will precisely ask “what is the time?”, because they know if they ask “what time is it?”, at least one member of the household will reply “showtime!”, which is invariably followed by “like I said…”. Every time.)
In retrospect I’m not sure why I follow the Oscars every year. I follow film (via podcast far more than I watch it. I guess I get a kick out of seeing the celebrities off the big screen, hearing the speeches, being able to discuss the ceremony the next day, whatever. But the Oscars ceremony has a history of being pretty awful. It runs long. The hosts are lame, or wooden, or both. The patter between presenters is forced. Depending on the year you might get a good musical number or two - the song from Selma brought down the house last year - but otherwise… it’s more an event than a great show.
Enter the Tonys. What a fantastic awards show! Host James Corden was funny (and very talented!) without dragging any jokes out too long or being obnoxious. The show moved along at a good clip, full of musical numbers from the nominated musicals. Leading up to commercial breaks, a cast from one of the nominated shows would move to a little outside stage on the street to perform a quick bit from some other classic Broadway show. (This led, charmingly enough, to Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber playing the tambourine to accompany Steve Martin on the banjo for one song. Not bad, Sir Andrew. Not bad.)
And the performances. Wow, the performances. Carmen Cusack belting it out in a number from Steve Martin and Edie Brickell’s musical Bright Star. Audra McDonald singing and dancing (while 4 or 5 months pregnant!) in Shuffle Along. The big wedding dance number from the revival of Fiddler on the Roof. And The Color Purple. Goodness me, The Color Purple.
Having tuned in to see Hamilton, what I found along with it was a theater full of incredibly talented people who, to all appearances, really love the music and dance, and who even between show casts share a great camaraderie. In contrast to the cool, cynical detachment often seen at the Oscars, the Tonys were enthusiastic, joyous, and intense.
And then there were moments of brilliance like Lin-Manuel Miranda’s acceptance speech, which he provided in the form of a sonnet:
On the night after the horrific mass shooting in an Orlando nightclub, the Tony Awards show both acknowledged the loss and provided, if not some healing, at least a respite from the pain - an embrace saying we are in this together and we will get through it.
And when the Hamilton cast came back on stage for the closing number, and a good chunk of the audience stood up and sang along with them, the joy in their voices, faces, and dancing bodies shouted out that Miranda’s lyrics hold a timeless truth.
“Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now.”
5/4 day
Today is May 4th, which has gained an online buzz as “Star Wars Day” - “May the Fourth be with you” and all that. (My friend Geof isn’t a fan, but we all knew he’d become a curmudgeon sooner or later.)
A better idea, though, came through on Twitter this morning:
(Thanks, Bethany, for RTing that into my timeline!)
So, in honor of 5/4 day, my favorite 5/4 song that isn’t Take Five:
Hapyp 5/4 day, everybody!
Bono and Eugene Peterson discuss the Psalms
A million people have undoubtedly posted this already, but… wow. So good. Bono and Eugene Peterson sit down at Peterson’s kitchen table to discuss the Psalms. This is worth 20 minutes of your time.
Aigner: Reframing Worship Arguments
I really appreciated this piece from Jonathan Aigner on Ponder Anew yesterday, wherein he suggests reframing so many of the discussions we have around music in the church.
For instance:
Bad Argument #1: Old songs are better. This argument usually descends into warm, fuzzy reminiscences of singing in church with Grandma. That’s all fine and good, but it’s not enough… Some beloved old hymns feature terrible, vapid poetry paired with disjunct, noodly tunes, yet continue to find acceptance because their emotional appeal is so strong. Reframing this discussion: -Singing old songs (in addition to new ones) keeps us grounded in the history of our faith and connects us to those who have come before, reminding us that we’re not alone. -Singing old songs (in addition to new ones) protecting us from the sins of narcissism and chronological snobbery. -Singing old songs (in addition to new ones) expands our worship vocabulary, and steeps us in the language of our faith.
This is a beneficial approach; rather than focusing on arguments of preference we can discuss more significant issues that lie below the surface.
Aigner addresses these questions, too:
Bad Argument #2: The band is too loud. Bad Argument #3: I don’t like it.
It’s worth reading the whole thing.
Music that evokes an emotional response
From a Facebook group post today:
Name a specific musical artist, for whatever reason, that is always able to draw a visceral emotional response from you. And if you’re comfortable, share the reason why!
Rather than respond just on that Facebook group, I thought I’d post here, both because a few more people would read it, and because it’s just the sort of music nerd thing that I will want to answer with my own spin. In this particular case I’m going to give at least three answers, just because I can.
First I’m going to go back to high school and pick the first piece of classical music I really fell head-over-heels in love with: Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto. It really clicked in order for me - first the lovely first movement (especially the slow theme in Eb major), then the slow middle movement, then the big theme of the third movement which is first introduced as a slow piano solo in Bb major, and is then driven home as the big finale. Such fantastic stuff. Grabs me every time. I bought a score of the concerto and learned all the easy piano parts, but never managed to work up all the fast nasty parts.
I have several recordings of Rach 2, but my favorite is one I just came upon a few years ago: Stephen Hough with the Andrew Litton and the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Hough plays it fast and rowdy. I think Sergei himself might approve. Here’s a couple minutes of a live recording that gives you an idea of the quick tempo:
If I move on to my adult years, there are a few artists whose music has resonated with me like no other.
My nostalgia pick is Rich Mullins; I became a fan in high school, played and sang his music repeatedly, spent a couple days in shock when he died, and continue to count him as a huge influence on my own musical instincts. The song of his that gets a reaction now is one that I didn’t necessarily love as much as a kid, but that resonates hugely now as an adult.
My folks, they were always the first family to arrive with seven people jammed into a car that seated five there was one bathroom to bathe and shave in six of us stood in line Hot water for only three, but we all did just fine Talk about your miracles, talk about your faith My dad, he could make things grow out of Indiana clay Mom could make a gourmet meal out of just cornbread and beans And they learned to give faith hands and feet And somehow gave it wings
My dad was a piano tuner from Nebraska, not a farmer from Indiana, but outside of that… this is pretty easily the story of my family. I almost never get through it with dry eyes.
Later on I’d point to the music of Andrew Osenga (“Early in the Morning” and “Swing Wide the Glimmering Gates”) and Andrew Peterson (whose Behold the Lamb of God is, in my book, one of the few perfect Christian albums ever).
The first song that comes to mind from lately, though, is “Wait for It” from Hamilton. (Yeah, I’m talking about Hamilton again. Deal with it.)
In a recent interview with the Hamilton cast, Leslie Odom Jr. (who plays Aaron Burr) as his favorite - the moment of tension and focus in the production that ropes the audience in. It’s tough to perform, but when it’s right, it’s amazing. It’s a beautiful song, and the lyrics of the chorus elicit a response from me every time. In it, Aaron Burr reflects on the challenges and losses in his own life:
Life doesn’t discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes, and it takes, and it takes And we keep living anyway We rise, and we fall, and we break, And we make our mistakes And if there’s a reason I’m still alive When so many around me have died I’m willing to wait for it
There’s a desperation and intensity to Burr’s cry in this song that grabs me hard - the desire for real meaning, the joy and the pain of life… man oh man.
So there you go, songs that provoke a visceral reaction from me. Do you have any of your own?