Steve Earle>City of Immigrants

Four nights ago I had the pleasure of seeing Steve Earle playing live in London. And for once I had a great seat at the gig - front row! I have to say I enjoyed it immensely when I strutted through the theatre past the lesser seats to park my backside on the front row and then neatly place my jacket and drink on the stage. Earle was pretty impressive - alone on the stage, in an auditorium that seated 2000 people, he kept us all spellbound by his majestic songs (and covers of Townes Van Zandt) interspersed with some witty narrative.

It struck me as I cast my eyes over the audience that Earle clearly plays white man's music. In a city as diverse as London you might expect some racial diversity - but if skin colour is anything to go by, there wasn't much diversity going on in the Barbican on Wednesday night! This struck me as fairly ironic when Earle burst into 'City of Immigrants' from his Washington Square album (2007). This is a song written about New York but could just as easily be written of London. The lyrics state: 'City of black, city of white, city of light, I'm livin' in a city of immigrants, All of us are immigrants, every daughter, every son'. It's a great song, with great lyrics that are absolutely true. It is a smart antidote to the pathetic attempts by the British National Party (amongst others) to claim the contrary and to conveniently forget that, yes, we are all immigrants - not just those who have arrived on British shores since the 1950s.

And so, reflecting on this after the show, I realised that indeed Earle the agitator knew his audience better than I. Of course, if anyone needed to hear his thoughts on immigration it was probably one that looked like this.

The Cure>Plainsong

If I'm really honest and come clean - the songs that mean the most to me - the ones that get under my skin and touch deep, deep down inside are the dark and moody ones. Don't get me wrong I like light and fluffy, too, but the ones that leave me satisfied are songs that when they've finished feel like they've gone right to the pit of my stomach and twisted me up inside. Some bands/songwriters simply do this better than others and for me The Cure are masters of this kind of song.

During the late '80s The Cure were one of those bands that everybody either loved or hated - there was no middle ground. Nobody I knew ever said, 'well, I like some of their stuff.' Pretty much all my friends claimed they were 'too depressing'. Strangely, though, they all turned up their radios when 'Love Cats' or 'Friday I'm in Love' came on. They couldn't bring themselves to admit they liked these tunes because according to them, The Cure were depressing and yet clearly these songs were not.

Well, I'm not afraid to admit I love depressing! Perhaps it's my dark side - but gloomy, gothic, indie rock reaches places in the pit of my stomach that other genres can't reach. I love much of The Cure's work up to the early '90s and in my opinion the gloomier the better. Take 'Plainsong', for example, the opening track of Distintegration (1989) - it's magnificent. It's almost a parody of the goth rock genre - lyrically and musically - yet it captures the wild, untamed, dark side of the human condition. And how I wish for an open place for this in church. Increasingly, my experiences are leading me to see this dimension of God himself - He's downright mysterious, wild and untamed and as it says in the song, He makes 'me feel like I'm living on the edge of the world'.

The Sunday Service: The LEONARDiction

Thanks to Phil's recent blog post over at Philip's Tree House regarding my CAVEspers I've been spurred on to come up with a new Sunday Service. So here it is - The LEONARDiction.

My long-held view is that the title of most inspired song-writers belongs to the holy trinity of Bob Dylan, Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen. Having compiled a DYLitANy and CAVEspers already, I felt it was time to give the honour to Mr Cohen. (Incidently I've been very fortunate to see all three leading worship in London during the last 18 months.)

Why 'The LEONARDiction' - well being a traditionalist I had to come up with some kind of religious pun, however paltry. Also, the Benediction - or blessing - that usually accompanies the end of a church service or prayer time is somewhat appropriate for Cohen. For some reason a benediction is always 'prounounced' - and in my experience that means the minister or priest delivers it with a sombre yet uplifting tone. And surely if such contradictory adjectives were ever to be attributed to a singer's voice - it has to be Cohen's. So here's the 'setlist'...

Processional Hymn: Hallelujah (Various Positions, 1985)

Praise and Worship:
Love Calls You by Your Name (Songs of Love and Hate, 1971)
Dance Me to the End of Love (Various Positions, 1985)
That Don't Make It Junk (Ten New Songs, 2001)

Intercessionary Prayers: The Future (The Future, 1992)

Confession:
Everybody Knows (I'm Your Man, 1988)
Tower of Song (I'm Your Man, 1988)

Bible reading: The Story of Isaac (Songs From a Room, 1969)

Sermon: Anthem (The Future, 1992)

Response: If it be Your Will (Various Positions, 1985)

Recessional hymn: Here It Is (Ten New Songs, 2001)

Jim Reeves>Bimbo

The summer's gone and my holidays are finished. On the whole August was a fabulous month - time spent with the family, lazing on the beach, watching the breakers roll in on the Cornish clffs, good food and of course England winning the Ashes. But amongst all the frivolity was the tragedy of Bimbo.

He was our guinea pig - my 6 year old daughter's pride and joy. Travelling through Cornwall we sang his song in the car, remembering him back home. Happy campers could hear the strains of 'Bimbo, Bimbo where ya gonna go ya' through the thin walls of their tents as we sang along to Jim Reeves. And now, our furry friend has gone - a sad end to a lovely pet and a beautiful summer.

And so, in his memory here's his song - he's gone but not forgotten.

The Duckworth Lewis Method

I have relatively few passions in this world but when two of them come together in such a great combination it certainly adds to life's rich tapestry. I've already confessed to my penchant for The Divine Comedy in an earlier post, so imagine my delight when I heard that songwriter Neil Hannon of The Divine Comedy had just released an album inspired by my favourite sport - cricket. And just in time for the Ashes!

When I was a child I spent many an hour watching cricket - initially England getting ground into the dust by a rampant West Indian side and then as I grew older I got used to Australia consistently hammering England. Over the last couple of weeks my ear's been glued to the radio (can't afford SKY for live TV coverage)as I've kept abreast of England's heroics on their way to regaining the Ashes (I hope).

But I've listened to the streaming version of The Duckworth Lewis Method's album online and I've got to say it's great. Somehow it evokes the feeling of a lazy summer's afternoon at the cricket - a far cry I must say from the gut-wrenching agony of being an England supporter during any Ashes series. I never thought that an album on cricket would ever be written but the Divine Comedy have lived up to their name and produced a classic! There must be a God after all.

Here they are performing on Grafton Street, Dublin. Did you see them Cosmo?

U2>Miss Sarajevo

On the whole I've given U2 short thrift on this blog - I'm not really sure why because I've always been a big fan. I suspect it's because for the last couple of years I've found Bono's earnestness just a little too much. However, prompted today by my wife's departure for 8 days to Bosnia on an interfaith trip I checked out a song I've loved for a long time - Miss Sarajevo (The Passengers, 1995).

As I watched the video of the song - as below - it all came back to me. I remember being glued to the TV news during the war watching with grim fascination the pictures of the ordinary people of Sarajevo literally having to sprint for cover on the way to work to avoid the bullets around them. It was the weirdest of things seeing normality and war going on side by side. And U2 capture the sense of this paradox in the song magnificently (read about the song here). And as the beauty contestants hold up the sign saying 'don't let them kill us' the futility and pointlessness of it all becomes so stark.

I love the lyrics, too with their echo of Ecclesiastes. Until today I hadn't seen a translation of Pavarotti's part. Here it is:

You say that the river
finds the way to the sea
and like the river
you will come to me
beyond the borders
and the dry lands
You say that like a river
like a river...
the love will come
the love...
And i don't know how to pray anymore
and in love i don't know how to hope anymore
and for that love i don't know how to wait anymore

Powerful stuff, eh? And so, perhaps you'd like to spare a prayer for the people of Bosnia who have with such dignity begun to rebuild their country and my own 'Miss Sarajevo' who is there today.

Radiohead>No Surprises

There was a time when I was convinced that Radiohead was the greatest band on earth. Now I would review that considerably - they're good, but short of a truly inspired critique, I will simply state that I find them a bit depressing! However, I find very little to criticize about my favourite song of theirs - 'No Surprises' (OK Computer, 1997). It's a masterpiece.

Let me tell you why this song is so great! Firstly, it's got one of the most sublime guitar riffs in rock. Secondly, Thom Yorke's voice is so sullen and tired that it captures the mood magnificently. Thirdly and most importantly, it's a song to inspire a revolution. Some songs are written with uprising in mind and they put it all out there in clear and obvious ways - think the Clash's 'London Calling' or the Sex Pistols' 'Anarchy in the UK' for example. Having listened to and enjoyed those songs on many occasions I can safely say that by the time they reach their raucous final bars the anger and angst inside me has all but dried up. I have always preferred the subtle, however. 'No Suprises' contains three minutes and forty-eight seconds of such irony and monotony that by the end you're ready to get up and go and do something rebellious to prove Radiohead wrong - that you're ready for a life that breaks the mould and really will bring down the government.

And so perhaps I'm back to Alinsky again. Recently, I've become convinced that those who seek to follow Jesus can never be satisfied with just doing good things and at the same time maintaining the status quo. That in it's own way is like embracing a world of 'no suprises'. That's a case of cheap grace. Costly grace involves a deeper work where risk and revolution have their place - where the injustices of our communities and neighbourhoods are challenged to their core. Listen to 'No Suprises' and you'll hear what I mean but don't blame me when it stirs you up.