Recently in Music Category

I don't go to many concerts, but oh, how many times I've wanted to write a variant of this brilliant letter upon leaving the movie theater. My particular curse is not the annoying music fan, but the Guy Who Narrates Everything That Happens in the Movie to his girlfriend/wife, a tragic woman who apparently is incapable of discerning for herself that yes, Batman is getting into the Batmobile, and yes, he is now driving through the streets of the city, which is of course Gotham City in case you've not paid any attention to anything Batman-related over the last few decades. And that guy wearing the scary scarecrow mask? That is in fact the Scarecrow, who you may recall was introduced to us several minutes ago in this very film.

Most recently I had the pleasure of sitting next to the Guy Who Loudly States Plot Spoilers Before They Happen, since it's important that his wife/girlfriend (and the people sitting nearby) not be surprised by anything that happens in the movie. Fortunately the movie was Pirates of the Caribbean 3, the garbled narrative mess of which stripped spoilers of their usual movie-ruining power.

We interrupt this long gap of blog silence to bring you an important message.

Musicians of the world,

You know that super-secret hidden track you guys keep putting at the end of the last track on your CDs? Well, you may stop doing that now. It was last considered "cool" sometime around 1991. In 1991, it was a fun surprise (the first time) to be listening to a CD and come across a totally unexpected little treat at the very end of the last track. But these days, it loses some of its effect when we can see it coming from a mile away:

So if you're looking to do something really unique and cool with your band's newest album, try something fresh and different... like recording Satanic messages backwards on it, or something.

Sincerely,
A Music Fan

Just in case you were wondering: the worst song ever recorded is not, in fact, Chumbawamba's "Tubthumping." It is the version of REM's "Star Me Kitten" in which William S. Burroughs (coincidentally the worst writer in the history of literature) reads some sort of whacked-out poem inspired by a Marlene Dietrich song.

It's... unlistenable.

Just in case you were wondering.

If there's a song greater than the Dandy Warhols' Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth, I've yet to hear it.

(On a related note, I've heard that if that music video and Requiem for a Dream are played at the same time, they will annihilate each other and trigger the Apocalypse. Don't do it.)

I gingerly dropped the CD into the tray, put on my headphones, and pressed Play. This was a new album from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, which meant that I had absolutely no idea what was about to happen.

My first encounter with Nick Cave's music took place several years ago and is an experience I remember well. The song was "The Mercy Seat," and by the time it drew to a close--in a cacophany of strings, distortion, and tortured vocals--I felt emotionally exhausted. The song opens (as instruments are messily tuned and warmed up in the background) with a defiant declaration:

They came and took me from my room
And put me in Dead Row
(of which I am nearly wholly innocent).
And I say it again: I am not afraid to die.

I was instantly hooked. The song continued, building slowly in intensity, telling the story of a death-row inmate's scared but defiant mental journey to the electric chair. He insists he's innocent, but he knows he's lying to himself. He looks to the cross of Christ for mercy, but knows he cannot escape the all-seeing, judging eye of God. He yearns for the release of death, but is terrified at the prospect of dying. You, the listener, feel the terror and panic and relief of the long walk towards the Chair, the Mercy Seat.

It's an amazing, disturbing, glorious song.

Like I said, you never know what you're going to get with Nick Cave. Musically, he's what you'd get if you mixed rock, blues, and folk together and stirred in a healthy dose of Nine Inch Nails. He's an agnostic fire-and-brimstone preacher, he's a honey-tongued crooner, he's a murderous prophet of doom. He can pull off a love song that opens with this line:

I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do.

...and somehow not sound completely ridiculous. (Actually, Nick Cave can be a bit ridiculous.)

So I wasn't sure what was going to come out of the headphone speakers. A ballad about murder? A tender love song? A tired and angry tirade about a broken world? What I actually got managed to catch me completely off guard: Cave as an electrifyingly earnest street preacher, his booming baritone shouting out an actual sermon, backed by cranked-up-to-11 guitar riffs and an honest-to-God gospel choir:

Get ready for love! Praise Him!
Get ready for love! Praise Him!

Well, most of all nothing much ever really happens
And God rides high up in the ordinary sky
Until we find ourselves at our most distracted,
And the miracle that was promised creeps quietly by.

Calling every boy and girl
Calling all around the world
Get ready for love! Praise Him!

The mighty wave their hankies from their high-windowed palace
Sending grief and joy down in supportable doses
And we search high and low without mercy or malice
While the gate to the Kingdom swings shut and closes.

Praise Him til you've forgotten what you're praising Him for;
Praise Him a little bit more.
Praise Him til you've forgotten what you're praising Him for;
Then praise Him a little bit more...

Get ready for love! Praise Him!

I searched the seven seas and looked under the carpet
And browsed through the brochures that govern the skies
And I was just hanging around, doing nothing
And looked up to see His face burned in the retina of your eyes.

This is weird and wonderful and ludicrously catchy. I have no idea how serious Cave is being, or how many layers of irony I need to dig through before coming to the meaning and intent behind this tune. So I think I'll just turn up the volume, lean back, and enjoy it.

Preach it, brother Cave!

Now seriously, I ask you--is there any album that rocks more than Metallica's black album? I think not.

I mean, I like the new U2 CD as much as anybody else. But if you put Bono in the ring against James Hetfield, I think we all know who would win.

Truly, you have not lived until you have heard Dave Mustaine growl out a Megadeth tune in Spanish.

Trust me on this one.

Do you have a particular song that strikes you as so so perfect, so sublime that just hearing it makes you choke up and weep that this broken world is unworthy of its beauty? I bet you do. For you, it might be Pachelbel's Canon; for others, perhaps Nick Cave's "Red Right Hand" or Wagner's "Ice Ice Baby." For me, it's Johnny Cash singing "The Wanderer" with U2:

I went out walking through streets paved with gold Lifted some stones, saw the skin and bones of a city without a soul.

I went out walking under an atomic sky
Where the ground won't turn and the rain it burns
Like the tears when I said goodbye.

Yeah, I went with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you.
I went wandering.

I went drifting through the capitals of tin
Where men can't walk or freely talk
And sons turn their fathers in.

I stopped outside a churchhouse where the citizens like to sit
They say they want the Kingdom,
But they don't want God in it.

I went out riding down that old eight lane
I passed by a thousand signs
Looking for my own name.

I went with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too.
Looking for you.

I went out there
In search of experience.
To taste and to touch
And to feel as much
As a man can before he repents.

I went out searching, looking for one good man
A spirit who would not bend or break,
Who would sit at his Father's right hand.

I went out walking with a Bible and a gun.
The Word of God lay heavy on my heart
I was sure I was the one.

Now Jesus, don't you wait up
Jesus, I'll be home soon
Yeah, I went out for the papers
Told her I'd be back by noon.

Yeah, I left with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too.
Looking for you.

Yeah, I left with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you.
I went wandering.

I usually make it all the way to the last verse--where he goes out looking for one good man--before being overwhelmed by sorrow at the sad state of this world. By the time we learn that he told her he'd be back by noon, I'm usually a weepy emotional wreck. Johnny Cash, we're not worthy.

How about you?

I participated in this conversation recently:

The Scene: the computer room. Andy is seated at the computer wearing headphones. Michele enters unnoticed.
Michele (barely audible over headphone music) Hey, what are you listening to?
Andy (realizing after several seconds that Michele is in the room, turns down music volume and removes one of the headphone ears): What?
Michele: What are you listening to?
Andy: Uh... video game music remixes...
Michele: Ah. Would those be the same game music remixes you were listening to a few months ago?
Andy: Yeah...
Michele (with sarcastic smirk): They must be pretty good game music remixes.
Andy: Uh, they are..

I would've tried to deny it--perhaps claim to be listening to something more cultured and refined, like my Tesla Greatest Hits CD--but my Winamp playlist window was in plain sight:

I can't help it--I really love this stuff. Most of it is simple, repetitive, and unbelievably nostalgic--now that I think about it, it was pretty much the soundtrack of my nerdy junior-high-and-thereabouts life. The only problem: an awful lot of video game tunes are catchy in the worst possible way. I challenge anyone to pay attention to the sermon in church on Sunday morning with this song running endlessly through their head.

I love hymns. One of my favorite things about the church I grew up in was (and presumably still is) the prominence that hymn- and psalm-singing held during worship services. As Michele and I visited different churches in search of a "home church," it was an interesting experience to compare the ways that different churches used songs in worship--and the types of music played and sung in different churches.

Most of the churches we visited seemed to strike a reasonable balance between "traditional" songs and "contemporary" ones. While I have no problem with contemporary worship tunes (excepting a handful of particularly vapid ones), I think my preference will always lie with the great old "songs of the faith." For me, what sets many traditional hymns apart from contemporary tunes is the quality of their lyrics. Every time I look at the lyrics to, say, Shine Jesus Shine or The Servant Song, I can't help but wonder if there isn't a classic hymn that conveys the same message more thoughtfully and eloquently. My favorite hymns don't always state things with matter-of-fact directness in the manner of many contemporary praise tunes; they use complex, thoughtful, and occasionally even bizarre word-imagery to make the message vivid. One of my all-time favorite hymns is Charles Wesley's Amazing Love!; I have to quote it in full to really appreciate it:

And can it be that I should gain an interest in the Savior's blood? Died He for me, who caused His pain? For me, who Him to death pursued? Amazing love! How can it be that Thou, my God, should die for me?

Amazing love! How can it be that Thou, my God, should die for me?

He left His Father's throne above; so free, so infinite His grace!
Emptied Himself of all but love, and bled for Adam's helpless race!
'Tis mercy all, immense and free,
for, O my God, it found out me.

Long my imprisoned spirit lay fast-bound in sin and nature's night.
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray; I woke--the dungeon flamed with light!
My chains fell off, my heart was free!
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee!

No condemnation now I dread. Jesus, and all in Him, is mine!
Alive in Him, my living Head, and clothed in righteousness divine,
Bold I approach the eternal throne,
And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

Simply glorious! The third verse is my favorite, containing as it does what must be the best phrase ever penned in the English language: Thine eye diffused a quickening ray. Who would ever write such a wonderful line today? And who can help feeling almost dizzy with joy at the song's triumphant final lines?

Another favorite of mine, and one I haven't heard in many churches lately, is the somber God, Be Merciful To Me--one of the most powerful songs of repentance I have ever heard; my favorite verses are these:

God, be merciful to me, On Thy grace I rest my plea; Plenteous in compassion Thou, Blot out my transgressions now; Wash me, make me pure within, Cleanse, O cleanse me from my sin.

My transgressions I confess,
Grief and guilt my soul oppress;
I have sinned against Thy grace
And provoked Thee to Thy face;
I confess Thy judgment just,
Speechless, I Thy mercy trust.

Broken, humbled to the dust
By Thy wrath and judgment just,
Let my contrite heart rejoice
And in gladness hear Thy voice;
From my sins O hide Thy face,
Blot them out in boundless grace.

From time to time, of course, you run across hymns that do make you wonder what the author was thinking--some of them contain absolutely bizarre imagery. For instance, I find it hard to believe that anyone would actually write, let along sing, a song with a title like There is a Fountain Filled With Blood--what a thoroughly unpleasant metaphor. My personal "favorite" is the following hymn, which I swear to you we actually sang from time to time at church when I was growing up:

Dust to dust, the mortal dies, Both the foolish and the wise; None forever can remain, Each must leave his hoarded gain. Yet within their heart they say That their houses are for aye, That their dwelling places grand Shall for generations stand.

To their lands they give their name
In the hope of lasting fame,
But man’s honor quickly flies,
Like the lowly beast he dies.
Though such folly mark their way,
Men approve of what they say;
Death their shepherd, they the sheep,
He within his fold will keep.

Though in life he wealth attained,
Though the praise of men he gained,
He shall join those gone before,
Where the light shall shine no more.
Crowned with honor though he be,
Highly gifted, strong and free,
If he be not truly wise,
Man is like the beast that dies.

My mom and I have a running joke that this song ought to be set to the tune of Joy to the World for full effect. I'll grant that the message is Biblical, but what sort of person comes across the incredibly depressing words of Psalm 49 and decides that they must be put to music? Probably the same person who came up with singing a song about blood-filled fountains.

Still, I'll hold that even Dust to Dust, the Mortal Dies has more lyrical style than, say, "Our God is an awesome God."

To each his own, I suppose. Sing on!