'With the Velvet Underground in the late Sixties, Reed fused street-level urgency with elements of European avant-garde music, marrying beauty and noise, while bringing a whole new lyrical honesty to rock & roll poetry. As a restlessly inventive solo artist, from the Seventies into the 2010s, he was chameleonic, thorny and unpredictable, challenging his fans at every turn. Glam, punk and alternative rock are all unthinkable without his revelatory example.' (Rolling Stone)
'No songwriter to emerge after Bob Dylan so radically expanded the territory of rock lyrics. And no band did more than the Velvet Underground to open rock music to the avant-garde — to experimental theater, art, literature and film, to William Burroughs and Kurt Weill, to John Cage and Andy Warhol, Mr. Reed’s early patron ...
he seemed to embody downtown Manhattan culture of the 1960s and ’70s — as essential a New York artist as Martin Scorsese or Woody Allen. His New York was a jaded city of drag queens, drug addicts and violence, but it was also as wondrous as any Allen comedy, with so many of Mr. Reed’s songs being explorations of right and wrong and quests for transcendence.' (Washington Post)
'As an English major at Syracuse University Reed fell under the sway of the poet Delmore Schwartz, and, as a result, his focus has frequently been more literary than musical. While most songwriters from Reed's generation were inspired by folk songs and blues music, Reed's influences were the Beat writers like Kerouac, Ginsberg and Burroughs.' (Gadfly Online)
'Reed's more profound ambition was to use rock's immediacy as a vehicle for a certain kind of literary approach. "Let's take Crime and Punishment and turn it into a rock'n'roll song," he said. As well as Dostoevsky, his heroes included Raymond Chandler, Hubert Selby Jr, William Burroughs and Edgar Allan Poe. His later career included collaborations with artists from various fields, including theatre pieces with Robert Wilson, films with Wim Wenders and works with the composer Laurie Anderson, who was his companion for the last 20 years.' (The Guardian)
'Many of the [Velvet Underground's] themes — among them love, sexual deviance, alienation, addiction, joy and spiritual transfiguration — stayed in Mr. Reed’s work through his long run of solo recordings. Among the most noteworthy of those records were “Transformer” (1972), “Berlin” (1973) and “New York” (1989) ...
“Heroin” ... treated addiction and narcotic ecstasy both critically and without moralizing, as a poet or novelist at that time might have, but not a popular songwriter.' (The New York Times)
'Quite simply, the [Velvet Underground and Nico] had no real precedent in popular music. While the most of the rock world was busy extolling the liberating possibilities of drugs and free love, Reed’s songs saw past the scene’s carefree facade to the nervous junkie waiting for his dealer on a Harlem street corner, the whip-wielding dominatrix in an underground dungeon, and the weary society girl crying alone in her room after the party had ended. The music was just as distinctive, ranging from the sweet, wistful folk-pop of “Sunday Morning” and “I’ll Be Your Mirror” to the propulsive Stonesy rock of “Run, Run, Run” and the ear-splitting dissonance of “European Son.”
... 1969’s self-titled third LP marked another abrupt shift in the group’s approach. Ballad-heavy and spare, the record was perhaps the band’s cleanest, most straightforward showcase for Reed’s strengths as a songwriter, climaxing with “Pale Blue Eyes,” a haunting, ethereal tune that ranks among Reed’s most beautiful vocal performances.' (Variety)
'The moments of brilliance were usually those most likely to lose him his following, such as a song-cycle of epic morbidity titled Berlin (1973) ... Street Hassle (1978), The Bells (1979) and The Blue Mask (1982) all contained pieces in which he stretched himself in interesting directions, but with New York (1989) and Magic and Loss (1992) he hit his full stride once more, the songs Dirty Blvd and What's Good proving his continuing ability to invest the two-chord rock'n'roll song with an irresistible freshness.' (The Guardian)
'Berlin is a song cycle that uses the decadence of its namesake and some Brecht/Weill-esque orchestrations to tell a story of two psychically damaged people and their doomed relationship ... Far from the rock-star poses of Transformer, Berlin is lyrically and musically frank and blunt. The arrangements move from sophisticated, arch orchestration to naked-sounding acoustic sparseness, but the words are uniformly unflinching in their depiction of violence, addiction, and desperation. Not for the faint of heart, Berlin is a harrowing journey through the aforementioned tribulations, and one of Reed's most unusual, demanding, but ultimately rewarding albums.' (CD Universe)
'The Blue Mask, one of Lou Reed's bona fide masterpieces. Sparse and unflinching, the album takes on such harrowing themes as self-abuse, mental decay, powerlessness, and heroin addiction; and yet still manages to find some tranquil moments of beauty amidst the chaos.' (The Modern Word)
'Lou never got more intense and soulful than on The Blue Mask. It’s one of the toughest, truest, funniest albums about husbandhood ever made. Lou’s fallen in love, but he finds it just scares the hell out of him. As he sings, "Things are never good / Things go from bad to weird."' (Rolling Stone)
'New York (1989), Reed’s dispatch from the crumbling necropolis of the late Koch era, the city of AIDS and Howard Beach and Tawana Brawley. This is Reed as a cranky New York moralist, fulminating over his morning Times ...
My favorite Lou Reed record is Magic and Loss, the elegiac 1992 album inspired by the death of Reed’s friend, songwriter Doc Pomus. Since I heard the news about Reed this afternoon, I’ve listened several times to “Cremation,” in which Reed laments his friend’s demise and envisions his own cremation. “The coal black sea waits for me me me/The coal black sea waits forever,” Reed sings. It’s one of Reed’s loveliest songs — listen to Rob Wasserman’s moaning double-bass — and one of his saddest. But Reed allowed himself a dark chuckle in the face of death, a joke that held a hint of solace: “Since they burnt you up/Collect you in a cup/For you the coal black sea has no terror.”' (Vulture)
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Lou Reed - Caroline Says II.
Showing posts with label lyrics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lyrics. Show all posts
Monday, 28 October 2013
Wednesday, 24 April 2013
Fear, fallibility and faith in Mumford and Sons
I’ve been reading ‘The Incredible Rise of Mumford & Sons’ by Chloé Govan which is interesting primarily because of the perspective from which she writes about the influence of Christian faith and upbringing on the band.
I’ve posted before about the way in which Biblical references in song lyrics are often either overlooked or misinterpreted because of misunderstandings about Christianity itself (see, for example, here and here). Govan does not fall into the first trap in that she correctly identifies many of the Biblical/Christian references in the songs of Mumford & Sons but she does use commonly held misconceptions of the Christian faith which then affect her interpretations of the faith as it explored or expressed in these songs.
In addition, she also makes the commonly held but naive assumption that first person lyrics are directly autobiographical and confessional. It was this assumption that rightly annoyed Bob Dylan when journalists wrote as though they knew him by means of his songs and I can easily imagine Marcus Mumford, if he had read this biography (which he probably has not), feeling similar annoyance at someone presuming to know his personal spiritual journey through her interpretation of his lyrics.
The key misconception of Christianity as explored and expressed in these songs which Govan holds is that following God involves the surrender of free will and individuality while true freedom involves the full expression of personal choice. She therefore equates belief with submission and non-belief with freedom and, as a result, interprets all references to freedom within these lyrics in terms of this framework. Religion is a set of rules providing a comfort blanket for the immature, while maturity is seen in the assertion of an independent self.
Govan’s use of this equation is particularly evident in her analysis of ‘Roll Away Your Stone’ which she reads as a dialogue between Mumford and God in which Marcus expresses his frustration at God’s control over him. While clearly structured as a conversation, ‘Roll Away Your Stone’ does not actually identify who is being addressed as ‘you’ within the song, so Govan’s suggestion that the ‘you’ being addressed is God is an assumption rather than a statement. The song begins with the protagonist suggesting that both he and his conversation partner lift the lid on their souls, although the protagonist is wary of doing so fearing the demons within. The conversation develops by means of the response that grace is not about the efforts we make but the welcome we receive when we turn to God. On this basis, the protagonist then says that he will give up his desires and mark this moment at which his soul has become passionate for God. Having arrived at this confident assertion of faith backed by the intensity of the musical arrangement, the song then ends on a note of ambiguous prevarication.
There certainly are tensions explored in these songs in relation to the demands and challenges of faith but the polarity around which these revolve is not submission versus freedom so much as fear versus faith. The protagonist in ‘Roll Away Your Stone’ is afraid firstly of the demons within and secondly of the demands which faith may bring. This is the debate that the protagonist seems that have within himself in ‘Little Lion Man’ i.e. the extent to which he does or does not have the courage of his convictions.
All this is set out in the title track and opening song of the first album, which thereby sets both the ground that the album explores and the tone in which it does so. ‘Sigh No More’ begins with confident assertions of faith then moves into acknowledgement of human fallibility and prevarication summed up in the phrase that “Man is giddy thing” before asserting that love (i.e. God’s love) does not enslave but is freeing, enabling those who know it to become the people they were meant to be. The song ends with a prayer to see the beauty which will come when the protagonist’s heart is truly aligned with God’s love. Throughout the album the overriding concern is that personal fallibilities and fears – the darkness within – will prevent grace from having its full effect and the beauty of alignment with love from being fully realised.
Govan's discussion of the Christian faith of Mumford's parents is primarily drawn from press cuttings and her understanding of their story and beliefs is undercut by factual inaccuracies which include Sandy Millar as a female minister and the muddling of the Exodus with Herod's killing of the firstborn at Bethlehem, so that Moses is described as leading people out of the grip of evil people like Herod into glory.
Among the undeniable flaws of the evangelical sect to which Mumford's parents belong (i.e. the Vineyard Churches) which Govan cites are the response of the Roman Catholic Church to Galileo in the 1600s and Archbishop Ussher's 17th century chronology of the history of the world. While the Vineyard Churches can, no doubt, be criticised on all kinds of levels they had nothing to do with either of these episodes in Church history which have been brought into the picture because they are supposedly conclusive proof that Christianity as a whole is opposed to science.
Govan's discussion is, therefore, typical of the misunderstandings and misconceptions which plague contemporary discussion of Christianity and which lead many to dismiss the faith without ever actually engaging with its beliefs and practices. Govan's discussion of Christianity has significance as it flags up the size of the task (in part, self-induced) which faces the Church today, while those looking for an accessible and more nuanced review of the actual historical record in relation to the historical incidents cited by Govan could perhaps read 6 Modern Myths about Christianity & Western Civilisation by Philip Sampson.
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Govan's discussion of the Christian faith of Mumford's parents is primarily drawn from press cuttings and her understanding of their story and beliefs is undercut by factual inaccuracies which include Sandy Millar as a female minister and the muddling of the Exodus with Herod's killing of the firstborn at Bethlehem, so that Moses is described as leading people out of the grip of evil people like Herod into glory.
Among the undeniable flaws of the evangelical sect to which Mumford's parents belong (i.e. the Vineyard Churches) which Govan cites are the response of the Roman Catholic Church to Galileo in the 1600s and Archbishop Ussher's 17th century chronology of the history of the world. While the Vineyard Churches can, no doubt, be criticised on all kinds of levels they had nothing to do with either of these episodes in Church history which have been brought into the picture because they are supposedly conclusive proof that Christianity as a whole is opposed to science.
Govan's discussion is, therefore, typical of the misunderstandings and misconceptions which plague contemporary discussion of Christianity and which lead many to dismiss the faith without ever actually engaging with its beliefs and practices. Govan's discussion of Christianity has significance as it flags up the size of the task (in part, self-induced) which faces the Church today, while those looking for an accessible and more nuanced review of the actual historical record in relation to the historical incidents cited by Govan could perhaps read 6 Modern Myths about Christianity & Western Civilisation by Philip Sampson.
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Mumford & Sons - Sigh No More.
Friday, 30 November 2012
Peter Nevland: Spoken Groove
Peter Nevland never planned to be a writer. Some words popped into his head freshman year at the University of Texas and he made the wonderful mistake of writing them down. Eight years and a couple hundred “writings” later he left his engineering salary at Motorola to become a full-time writer and performer.
In his spoken groove lyrics Nevland unleashes his life with candour, hilarious wit and heart-changing passion. His wild and untamed performance style has been said to leave people glued to their seats, jaws hanging loosely, wondering how one man can remember so many words.
Nevland has collaborated with commission4mission artist Colin Burns on two tracks for Colin's debut cd Emerald&Gold. One of these tracks ‘For The King’ is included on a new music sampler from Resound Media which can be downloaded for free here: http://noisetrade.com/yourchurchevent.
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Peter Nevland - In Love With Your Sound.
Sunday, 11 March 2012
Leonard Cohen: Going Home
Sam Norton has a helpful reflection on the problem of suffering based on songs from Leonard Cohen's Old Ideas. My series of posts on the Suffering God here, here and here seem to cover similar ground.
The song from Old Ideas that I've been musing over is 'Going Home':
"I love to speak with Leonard
He’s a sportsman and a shepherd
He’s a lazy bastard
Living in a suit"
This opening verse sets up the ambiguity inherent in the song, as Leonard is singing about speaking with Leonard.
Just who is the first person character in the song? One suggestion from some reviews has been a manager-type figure. It is also possible that the character speaking in the song is intended to be God, who might command the kind of obedience attributed to Cohen within the song. That would also seem to fit with 'Show Me The Place' where the singer of the song speaks of himself as the slave being told where to go. Where he is to go seems to be to do with incarnation ("Where the Word became a man") and resurrection ("Help me roll away the stone") and therefore it would seem that he is characterising himself as the slave of God.
In 'Show Me The Place' this slavery seems to be accepted but in 'Going Home' it seems more ambiguous and more sinister:
"But he does say what I tell him
Even though it isn’t welcome
He just doesn’t have the freedom
To refuse"
As an alternative, I want to suggest that Leonard the man is speaking to Leonard the persona. All performers seem to need to create a stage persona that is in some way separate from the reality of who the person actually is. On this basis, the song is to do with the experience of leaving the stage in order to experience reality - "Going home / Behind the curtain / Going home / Without the costume / That I wore."
It seems to me that this is a good fit with Cohen's experience of spending five years in a Buddhist retreat only to return to performing when his retirement savings were plundered by his personal manager. Not that 'Going Home' is a confessional song. It's ambiguities mean that it can be read on several different levels but this reading makes sense of both it's central premise - Leonard talking to Leonard - and the stage-related imagery of the song's chorus.
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Leonard Cohen - Going Home.
The song from Old Ideas that I've been musing over is 'Going Home':
"I love to speak with Leonard
He’s a sportsman and a shepherd
He’s a lazy bastard
Living in a suit"
This opening verse sets up the ambiguity inherent in the song, as Leonard is singing about speaking with Leonard.
Just who is the first person character in the song? One suggestion from some reviews has been a manager-type figure. It is also possible that the character speaking in the song is intended to be God, who might command the kind of obedience attributed to Cohen within the song. That would also seem to fit with 'Show Me The Place' where the singer of the song speaks of himself as the slave being told where to go. Where he is to go seems to be to do with incarnation ("Where the Word became a man") and resurrection ("Help me roll away the stone") and therefore it would seem that he is characterising himself as the slave of God.
In 'Show Me The Place' this slavery seems to be accepted but in 'Going Home' it seems more ambiguous and more sinister:
"But he does say what I tell him
Even though it isn’t welcome
He just doesn’t have the freedom
To refuse"
As an alternative, I want to suggest that Leonard the man is speaking to Leonard the persona. All performers seem to need to create a stage persona that is in some way separate from the reality of who the person actually is. On this basis, the song is to do with the experience of leaving the stage in order to experience reality - "Going home / Behind the curtain / Going home / Without the costume / That I wore."
It seems to me that this is a good fit with Cohen's experience of spending five years in a Buddhist retreat only to return to performing when his retirement savings were plundered by his personal manager. Not that 'Going Home' is a confessional song. It's ambiguities mean that it can be read on several different levels but this reading makes sense of both it's central premise - Leonard talking to Leonard - and the stage-related imagery of the song's chorus.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leonard Cohen - Going Home.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
Leonard Cohen: self-deprecating and humorous
One of the things I love most about the work of Leonard Cohen is his self-deprecating humour. Lines, which sound like personal credos although sung by the characters he creates, like, "I'm stubborn as those garbage bags that Time cannot decay/I'm junk, but I'm still holding up this little wild bouquet" from 'Democracy', every line in 'Tower of Song' where Hank Williams coughs a hundred floors above him, or this, from 'Going Home':
"I love to speak with Leonard
He’s a sportsman and a shepherd
He’s a lazy bastard
Living in a suit ...
He will speak these words of wisdom
Like a sage, a man of vision
Though he knows he’s really nothing
But the brief elaboration of a tune."
There is real self awareness and humility here combined with the distance and irony of setting these lines ostensibly about himself in the third person. Victoria Segal notes Cohen's self-deprecation in an excellent review for Mojo of Cohen's new album Old Ideas.
Also included in Mojo's Cohen feature is a personal piece by Will Oldman describing Cohen's influence on his inspiration and work. In this piece he writes about being introduced to Cohen's music via The Best Of ... and Death Of A Ladies Man, the controversial 1977 Phil Spector-produced album. Oldham writes that he feels privileged to have been introduced to Cohen through the latter album "because to love something through its flaws provides a richer love."
Death Of A Ladies Man breaks the mould of the Cohen stereotype as sombre, introspective folk-poet by taking the vibe of Dylan's 'Rainy Day Women # 12 & 35' and giving free rein to the carnal, humorous aspects of Cohen's work. If you haven't heard it or have filed it away on a shelf somewhere, then get it out and allow your expectations of Cohen's sound to be shattered.
Oldman perceptively writes that there is something about Cohen's lyrics "that pullls you in without revealing itself entirely but it holds you there on each listen":
"It's a combination of of humour, modesty, nihilism, despair, joy and appreciation done by someone who has the ability to put language first as a poet.
Somehow he has the ability to shine a light on our finer qualities as people in a way that you feel that you have an ally: even if you're looking at the beautiful and the ugly in the world, you can value it. I can look around at the good and the bad and say, Well, this is humanity and I'm going to keep on dealing with it because I have this man who is doing that too."
For more perceptive words on Cohen listen to Malcolm Guite's On The Edge talk by clicking here.
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Leonard Cohen - Iodine.
"I love to speak with Leonard
He’s a sportsman and a shepherd
He’s a lazy bastard
Living in a suit ...
He will speak these words of wisdom
Like a sage, a man of vision
Though he knows he’s really nothing
But the brief elaboration of a tune."
There is real self awareness and humility here combined with the distance and irony of setting these lines ostensibly about himself in the third person. Victoria Segal notes Cohen's self-deprecation in an excellent review for Mojo of Cohen's new album Old Ideas.
Also included in Mojo's Cohen feature is a personal piece by Will Oldman describing Cohen's influence on his inspiration and work. In this piece he writes about being introduced to Cohen's music via The Best Of ... and Death Of A Ladies Man, the controversial 1977 Phil Spector-produced album. Oldham writes that he feels privileged to have been introduced to Cohen through the latter album "because to love something through its flaws provides a richer love."
Death Of A Ladies Man breaks the mould of the Cohen stereotype as sombre, introspective folk-poet by taking the vibe of Dylan's 'Rainy Day Women # 12 & 35' and giving free rein to the carnal, humorous aspects of Cohen's work. If you haven't heard it or have filed it away on a shelf somewhere, then get it out and allow your expectations of Cohen's sound to be shattered.
Oldman perceptively writes that there is something about Cohen's lyrics "that pullls you in without revealing itself entirely but it holds you there on each listen":
"It's a combination of of humour, modesty, nihilism, despair, joy and appreciation done by someone who has the ability to put language first as a poet.
Somehow he has the ability to shine a light on our finer qualities as people in a way that you feel that you have an ally: even if you're looking at the beautiful and the ugly in the world, you can value it. I can look around at the good and the bad and say, Well, this is humanity and I'm going to keep on dealing with it because I have this man who is doing that too."
For more perceptive words on Cohen listen to Malcolm Guite's On The Edge talk by clicking here.
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Leonard Cohen - Iodine.
Saturday, 5 February 2011
The CCM Praise Songs we have trouble with Meme
I was tagged for this meme by Sam who, unusually, seems to have bottled it. The rules are: Please try to name ONE (I know, there are so many to choose from) CCM praise song that you find unbearable and at least 2-3 reasons why, pointing to specific lyrics if you must.
I'm going for a song choice that will no doubt be controversial as it is the song that fans of Delirious? chose to send to No. 4 in the singles chart last year as part of the band's swansong. Martin Smith can write a great lyric - Deeper is evidence of that - but History Maker is far from being among his best:
Is it true today that when people pray
Cloudless skies will break
Kings and queens will shake
Yes it's true and I believe it
I'm living for you
Is it true today that when people pray
We'll see dead men rise
And the blind set free
Yes it's true and I believe it
I'm living for you
I'm gonna be a history maker in this land
I'm gonna be a speaker of truth to all mankind
I'm gonna stand, I'm gonna run
Into your arms, into your arms again
Into your arms, into your arms again
Well it's true today that when people stand
With the fire of God, and the truth in hand
We'll see miracles, we'll see angels sing
We'll see broken hearts making history
Yes it's true and I believe it
We're living for you
History Maker, it seems to me, is a classic example of hyperbole. It is full of those things that we think we ought to want to see as Christians - the dead rising, miracles, angels singing - but generally don't actually experience literally (although we love hearing stories of these things happening to others) and which, because we fixate on supernatural experience, then lead us to overlook or dismiss the miracle of life itself and the hard graft of compassion in the here and now.
History actually demonstrates that those who make a stand are as likely to be crushed as they are to see miracles and angels singing but this song doesn't deal in those kinds of paradoxes or realities and only inhabits an optimistic triumphalism. The comparison with Deeper is instructive as that lyric does deal in contrasts. Deeper contains the same yearning for God as History Maker but with a greater sense of reliance on God for any kind of achievement. History Maker is full of I's. In other words its focus is on me - what I'm gonna do, what I'm gonna be, what I'm gonna achieve - and it's attempt at reliance on God (running into the arms of God) is ambiguous at best and disconnected from the rest of the lyric at worst.
More than this though, much of the song makes little or no sense. How does a cloudless sky break or a broken heart make history? The blind set free conflates recovery of sight for the blind and set the oppressed free (Luke 4. 18) in a phrase that is either meaningless or offensive. I'm gonna stand, I'm gonna run - well, which is it to be? Ultimately, these are emotive phrases with little or no substance to them.
If you are reading this, you're tagged.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delirious? - Deeper.
I'm going for a song choice that will no doubt be controversial as it is the song that fans of Delirious? chose to send to No. 4 in the singles chart last year as part of the band's swansong. Martin Smith can write a great lyric - Deeper is evidence of that - but History Maker is far from being among his best:
Is it true today that when people pray
Cloudless skies will break
Kings and queens will shake
Yes it's true and I believe it
I'm living for you
Is it true today that when people pray
We'll see dead men rise
And the blind set free
Yes it's true and I believe it
I'm living for you
I'm gonna be a history maker in this land
I'm gonna be a speaker of truth to all mankind
I'm gonna stand, I'm gonna run
Into your arms, into your arms again
Into your arms, into your arms again
Well it's true today that when people stand
With the fire of God, and the truth in hand
We'll see miracles, we'll see angels sing
We'll see broken hearts making history
Yes it's true and I believe it
We're living for you
History Maker, it seems to me, is a classic example of hyperbole. It is full of those things that we think we ought to want to see as Christians - the dead rising, miracles, angels singing - but generally don't actually experience literally (although we love hearing stories of these things happening to others) and which, because we fixate on supernatural experience, then lead us to overlook or dismiss the miracle of life itself and the hard graft of compassion in the here and now.
History actually demonstrates that those who make a stand are as likely to be crushed as they are to see miracles and angels singing but this song doesn't deal in those kinds of paradoxes or realities and only inhabits an optimistic triumphalism. The comparison with Deeper is instructive as that lyric does deal in contrasts. Deeper contains the same yearning for God as History Maker but with a greater sense of reliance on God for any kind of achievement. History Maker is full of I's. In other words its focus is on me - what I'm gonna do, what I'm gonna be, what I'm gonna achieve - and it's attempt at reliance on God (running into the arms of God) is ambiguous at best and disconnected from the rest of the lyric at worst.
More than this though, much of the song makes little or no sense. How does a cloudless sky break or a broken heart make history? The blind set free conflates recovery of sight for the blind and set the oppressed free (Luke 4. 18) in a phrase that is either meaningless or offensive. I'm gonna stand, I'm gonna run - well, which is it to be? Ultimately, these are emotive phrases with little or no substance to them.
If you are reading this, you're tagged.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delirious? - Deeper.
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Science, faith and flamingo
Brandon Flowers (of The Killers) recently spoke about the influence of his faith on his writing. Flowers regularly uses religious references in his lyrics and the new album Flamingo is suffused with religious imagery. In speaking about his latest single 'Crossfire' he said: "[My religion] always comes out, it's inevitable. There's a lot of imagery in the songs... I don't think about it, it's not a real conscious decisive thing that I'm trying to get into the songs; it just creeps its way in. Being a religious person living in Las Vegas, I definitely have been caught in that crossfire."
What Flowers is saying seems to be encapsulated in some lines from the title track of the latest album by The Script:
"Having heavy conversations
About the furthest constellations of our souls
We're just trying to find some meaning
In the things that we believe in"
'Science & Faith' has a chorus with which many people of faith can no doubt identify:
"You won't find faith or hope down a telescope
You won't find heart and soul in the stars
You can break everything down to the chemicals
But you can't explain a love like ours"
These are not songs about faith however, instead what Flowers and The Script do in songs like 'Crossfire' and 'Science and Faith' is to spiritualise the standard rock fare of boy girl relationships. They are therefore reversing the original basis of much rock 'n' roll and soul which saw gospel songs, styles, mannerisms and lyrics being secularised in order to sing about boy/girl relationships rather than love of God.
When this is combined with aging rock stars such as Tom Jones and Robert Plant re-energising and re-invigorating their careers and creativity by tapping into the songs of the American South, with its significant vein of gospel being particularly prominent, plus authentic gospel stars such as Mavis Staples releasing new material and the emo and goth bands with Christian members and themes, then there is much in mainstream music currently to demonstrate the continuing influence of Christian imagery and themes.
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Brandon Flowers - Magdalena.
What Flowers is saying seems to be encapsulated in some lines from the title track of the latest album by The Script:
"Having heavy conversations
About the furthest constellations of our souls
We're just trying to find some meaning
In the things that we believe in"
'Science & Faith' has a chorus with which many people of faith can no doubt identify:
"You won't find faith or hope down a telescope
You won't find heart and soul in the stars
You can break everything down to the chemicals
But you can't explain a love like ours"
These are not songs about faith however, instead what Flowers and The Script do in songs like 'Crossfire' and 'Science and Faith' is to spiritualise the standard rock fare of boy girl relationships. They are therefore reversing the original basis of much rock 'n' roll and soul which saw gospel songs, styles, mannerisms and lyrics being secularised in order to sing about boy/girl relationships rather than love of God.
When this is combined with aging rock stars such as Tom Jones and Robert Plant re-energising and re-invigorating their careers and creativity by tapping into the songs of the American South, with its significant vein of gospel being particularly prominent, plus authentic gospel stars such as Mavis Staples releasing new material and the emo and goth bands with Christian members and themes, then there is much in mainstream music currently to demonstrate the continuing influence of Christian imagery and themes.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brandon Flowers - Magdalena.
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