Author: inertus

Jane writes:

I seem to have a habit of hearing a band and then getting totally immersed in what they offer.

I hear one song and then seek out a back catalogue, a gig and keep on looking for whatever is coming out as new.

This is just the case with The Lone Bellow. One song and I was hooked.  A visit to Leeds at the Brudnell Social Club cemented my affection for all their close harmonies, life focussing lyrics and their intimate approach to BIG songs.

So a new album and new music brings me real joy.  In particular the track -Count on Me.

It speaks of deep friendship.  Of that willingness that comes from an honesty that can sooth and challenge without discrimination.  We all need to be loved and indeed, our really good friends would do that unconditionally, regardless of all those petty and weird things that make us us. 

But they must also be there to pick up the pieces when its gone horribly wrong and they can carefully mop us up even if we are a bit broken.  Sometimes friends for me are the honesty that says you know you are going to have to deal with this.  It’s painful.  It might break you but we are here and we love you all the same.  I’m a crier. A shouter. A person who wants harmony.  Sometimes though walking away or facing the agony is about self-preservation and doing that alone is a daunting prospect. You need a friend of the truest kind to be alongside with their arm around your neck.

As people of faith many of us might feel the same way about God.  Its not always that simple.  Whoever you have in your corner though being able to count on them is what counts.  

“Let it break you
Let it help you lay down what you held onto
Let it break you
You can count on me, I can count on you
To help you lay down what you held onto
Help you lay down what you held onto”

You can find out much more about The Lone Bellow here  https://www.thelonebellow.com/home

Gill writes:

Sometimes a song collides with a significant moment in your life. It expresses your thoughts and feelings better than you could. ‘Wires’ is one of those songs for me.

The song was released in January 2005 when my son was 3 months old. Although he was born without any intervention (it was down to one last push or the ventouse was at the ready), he was in quite some distress and this resulted in him spending a few hours in the Special Baby Care Unit.

Although he wasn’t rushed through the hospital ‘running down corridors, through automatic doors‘ and subjected to ‘wires’ as Athlete’s lead singer Joel Pott’s daughter was, the words really evoked the experience at the time – and still continue to do so. I remember the panic on my husband’s face when he came back to find us on the maternity ward and we weren’t there; I remember sitting helplessly next to the tiny, little bundle ‘in a plastic box‘; I remember seeing the determination and lifeforce in his eyes and feeling sure that it was going to be alright.

From the moment of conception, I’ve always had a strong awareness that I have no control over this life that had been created. Right from the beginning I’ve been learning to let go. It can be so easy to take life for granted; to think that life is a right when it’s actually a gift.

‘Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes’ (James. 4:14)

Our lives are precious and fragile but for some reason we humans have a tendency to be rather arrogant and nonchalant about something so fragile as life. Funny really because when we own something that we think is delicate and breakable, we have a tendency to take extra special care of it. Why don’t we do this with our own lives?

Revisiting ‘Wires’ again has reminded me that I could make more time for others; that I could show more love to others; that I need to live more today and not worry too much about tomorrow. Life is indeed fragile. Handle it with the same care that God has for creation.

(And just in case you’re wondering, that tiny bundle is a strapping, rugby-playing, full-of-testosterone teenager – ‘looking at you now, you would never know’!)

Athlete still have a website which you can check out at http://www.athlete.mu/home.

Clive writes:

This is one of Elton John’s finest songs. It is underperformed – though Elton John has played it live sometimes, and there are a few versions on YouTube – and is hidden away on the 1972 album Honky Chateau, as part of that rich seem of ‘Americana’ material that he and his lyricist Bernie Taupin produced in the early 1970s (listen also to Tumbleweed Connection and Madman Across the Water, before you head to Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and Caribou).

It’s still something of a mystery how a lyricist from rural Lincolnshire could come up, in his late teens and early twenties, with evocative, poetic lyrics which an emerging rock star from Pinner could make use of. But that’s what happened. Taupin must have been about 21 when he wrote ‘Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters’ just as he and Elton John were about to become big in the USA and having their first experiences staying in large American cities.

As a song it invites meditative reflection on the fact that it takes all sorts to make up a world and that a city brings alongside each other people with great differences, and that rich and poor live cheek by jowl in a modern city, with all the challenges and tensions that such economic distinctions produce.  

For a townie from Merseyside this song was evocative. A trip to New York was surely never ever going to be on the cards (I wondered from my teenage bedroom what it was like). I find it staggering that I have been three times since and made trips, because of academic conference work, to a dozen or so other North American cities. I’m checking my carbon footprint much more these days but cannot pretend that I didn’t (and don’t) find such city-visits exciting and challenging. I always ensure I don’t just visit the ‘tourist bits’.  

I’ve no idea what Taupin and John themselves make of their own lyric ‘I thank the Lord for the people I have found’. But the depth of gratitude seems real enough: wherever you are, and whatever the circumstances you find yourselves in, be grateful for whoever helps you get through. I really do think this proves to be a deep, and profoundly significant, evangelistic insight. God is wherever gratitude is being expressed. And wherever gratitude is being expressed, then important things are happening. (For the record, this kind of stuff crops up when people start telling their own stories ruthlessly honestly…).

Three years later, in the title-track of their autobiographical album Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, Taupin and John would conclude: ‘And all this talk of Jesus coming back to see us / Mmm mmm couldn’t fool us / For we were spinning out our lines walking on the wire /Hand in hand went music and the rhyme’. Perhaps they’d dispensed with all explicit religion by then. Or perhaps it was just reservation about particular aspects of eschatology. Who knows? And they have both now got a further 45 years of life-experience to work with. 

At any rate, the lyric, and the wonderful song they created together, leaps out of their own experience and helps others. 

Elton John website can be found here – https://www.eltonjohn.com/ and you can find out more about the Lincolnshire ‘lad’, Bernie Taupin here http://www.berniejtaupin.com/

Jane writes:

I wonder, when we think of faith, if we are guilty of thinking we in the church might have the monopoly on God’s grace.  It is true that God loves everyone but maybe he saves a little bit extra for us?  We even sing about that sometimes – and we are at risk of doing so a little too carelessly in my view.  “……still the greatest treasure remains for those who choose you now” 

Startlingly lovely then is this song of self-assuredness.  The singer/writer proclaims with ease  

I don’t go to church anymore  

I know He still loves me 

I know He still loves me when I’m smoking blunts 

Loves me when I’m drinking too much  

He loves me then (yeah!)  

He loves me when I do what I want  

He loves me     

He doesn’t judge me  

Yes, He loves me 

When I heard the words I asked myself “Is this really what a life in God is all about?”  A place where I can be so sure of his grace, so sure of her unfailing commitment to me that I might sing such carefree and honest words. 

I also asked myself where do the rules we set ourselves as a Church fit in to this picture, this story of God’s unswerving love for us? What are we requiring as a people of God that might mean it’s easier to celebrate outside our walls than come in and see the God we share. 

I’m sure my old Sunday School teachers might have been shocked at the thought that God might love me even if I knowingly misbehaved.  I don’t know what it says about repentance.  I don’t know what it says about how to live a God-filled life.  I don’t know what it says about the requirement to change a bit of who I am so that others can see God in me.  However I do know that it says “He loves me” 

You can find out more about Brittany here    https://brittanyhoward.com/ 

Clive writes:

This is foot-tapping, no nonsense, uplift. Whatever may happen to you in life, there is no reason to let yourself be crushed. ‘Easier said than done’ may be the response. But the song itself, if we but let it work on us, will not let our spirits be dampened or brought down. We will resist. We will fight on. Even if we’ve been wholly or partly responsible for landing ourselves in difficulty, things can still be turned round. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will ultimately be able to crush our spirits. 

What’s more, there are clues as to how we go about not letting ourselves be crushed. I love the lines: ‘Walk with the rich, walk with the poor / Learn from everyone, that’s what life is for’. They are stunningly challenging when we all know it is much easier to stick with our own kind. They invite us to think beyond just the economic differences which divide us.

‘Learn from everyone’ is a real hard task to contemplate (what: from those who voted Brexit/Remain [delete as appropriate]? from Northerners/Southerners [ditto]? from Conservative/Green/Labour/LibDem supporters?). And the song gives us the reason why all this is possible. It puts into song how the Realm of God shapes us in practice: ‘Remember you’re walking up to heaven / Don’t let nobody turn you around’. 

This is, then, the track to listen to when you’re feeling low. Co-written by Bibb and Charlotte Höglund, and performed by Bibb in a number of different versions (here with Maria Muldaur), the music is – plainly and simply – a means by which God’s Spirit works to lift people up. Have a listen to the Bibb and Wilson Pickett version or one of the live performances with Staffan Astner too!  

You can find out more about Eric Bibb by visiting at https://www.ericbibb.com/

Gill writes:

1991. The Lamb and Packet pub in Preston, Lancashire. A Sunday night in the summer. My best friend Andrea’s last summer living in the UK before she emigrated to the States. A group of around 6 young women full of the joys of life, chattering away and suddenly the voice of Don McLean interjects with ‘A long, long time ago‘ and everything changes.

The chattering stops. We all look at each other. Someone punches the air with a ‘yes’ and we’re off- joining in with ‘I can still remember how that music used to make me smile‘. And that is it for the next 8 and a half minutes. Fingers dancing, faces contorted in a variety of expressions and the beats being drummed by hands banging on the table.

Halfway through, the male contingent of the friendship group enter the pub, know exactly where we are (thanks to our dulcet tones) and join us immediately in the song. Because it’s ‘our song’. The song that connected us. Newcomers to the group gained greater respect when they joined in with singing ‘American Pie’. We weren’t an unwelcoming bunch at all but once you joined in with our song, you were definitely in!

Singing together is really good for you. But I’m sure you know this already. A particular piece of research from the University of Oxford in 2015 (https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/full/10.1098/rsos.150221) affirmed that singing in groups helps to ‘break the ice’ really quickly which in turn means that social bonding happens faster. Singing together is really effective in helping large, diverse groups to bond but as I said at the beginning – you know this already.

So did John and Charles Wesley. It’s often said that Methodists were ‘born in song’ and singing enthusiastically, with gusto, is a reputation that continues. It’s thought that the Wesley brothers saw how singing can be a powerful, galvanising force when they experienced a fierce storm in the Atlantic on their way to Georgia in 1736. A group of German Moravian Christians who were travelling with them sang and prayed together which gave them the strength to see the situation through in a calmer way than the other passengers.

Singing together – whether as a choir, a congregation, a crowd at a concert or a bunch of friends at a party or down the pub – is good for us as an individual and for us as a society. It’s brilliant for our health – physiologically and mentally. It’s how we express ourselves. It’s how we connect with others. It can build bridges and break down barriers.

For Christians, singing together helps to explore the Word deeper, to express beliefs and understanding and builds each other up. Ephesian 5:19 says ‘addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart^‘.

Back to Andrea. It’s a hot summer evening in 2015. Floating on my back in a pool in a garden in San Diego, California. The local radio station is playing in the background. The song changes. The voice of Don McLean breaks into the air with ‘A long, long time ago‘ and I join in with ‘I can still remember how that music used to make me smile‘ with a little ‘yay’ and a grin at Andrea, who is at the other end of the pool – and we’re off, singing at the tops of our voices relentlessly for the next 8 or so minutes.

If you want to see what Don McLean is up to these days, visit https://donmclean.com/

Jane writes:

I remember the first time I heard this song and it made me catch my breath.

It is the kind of song that stops you in your tracks. It has a beautiful simple melody, backed my careful sensitive musicianship that favours its subject matter but it is without doubt for me the lyrical content that made an impact on my soul. (I’ve popped the words down below if you need a look)

It’s the kind of song that raises all sorts of feelings and emotions that mean you might get a bit worked up.

It saddens me greatly that our society is one where we think it’s ok to treat people as “other” because they are simply not like us. In a way that makes them less worthy of care or protection or a way that seeks to prove we’re better. It almost seems in the current Post-Brexit climate that to reclaim our own identity as British or English we have to diminish the value of others who are simply not what we consider “standard white” or those who “simply don’t try hard enough”. I use the word ‘we’ not because I think like that but because we are all entangled in a thoughtstream that lumps us together unless we are willing to say NO! I use the word ‘we’ because sometimes we don’t even pay enough attention to notice we’re doing it.

This song so poignantly tells the story of some cockle pickers on Morecombe Bay – you may remember it – and reflects on why they were killed, why they were treated so badly with unsafe working conditions and what happened to their families in the aftermath. It’s a story reflected often in our current news with people paid less, kept in conditions of modern day slavery, treated as less because they need sanctuary or refuge, charged to be rescued, dismissed or vilified for being different, regarded with suspicion.

It’s a song of lament and provocation. People are treated this way – why?

I believe in a God that loves everyone. A God that says WE must too. Not just to be kind. Not just as a matter of common decency or respect. Not because it’s for show. Not because we need to be seen to be doing the right thing BUT because we are made in God’s image. Each one of us, different and unique. Each one adding to the rich tapestry that is God’s Kingdom. Each one valued as an individual – not just as “them”

If people come to us seeking protection, away from the strife, away from the struggles and hardships of life and we have no response, what does that make us as Christians? What does that make us as society?

Oh, and for good measure I fear it is not just society that might be getting it all horribly wrong. The church does too as we continue to discriminate in our church communities because of gender, race, sexuality, age, politics …. I could go on.

I wonder what God is thinking even now having taken the time to show us through scripture and the life of Jesus what his Kingdom is really all about.

It sometimes takes a song written by genuine thoughtful artists to force us to face up to who we are and who we should be.

You can find out much more about Lau here https://www.lau-music.co.uk/

We say we’re not like them

A generation ago

We came on the same ships we were hidden below

Away from the strife

Away from the struggles and the hardships of life

I’m not an incomer

My parents were ghosts

Sir I was born here

So where would I go?

There’s ghosts on the motorway

The world is on fire

There’s ghosts on the sandflats as the water gets higher and higher

There’s ghosts in the brothels

Behind thick stony walls

There’s ghosts and their children in prison food halls

I’m not an incomer

My parents were ghosts

Sir I was born here

So where would I go?

Clive writes:

Bernie Leadon left The Eagles in 1975, allegedly perturbed at the direction the band was taking – musically and ethically. Musically, he seems to have been broader in his interests and tastes than he’s been given credit for. But what he’d brought to the band during his time with them was a Gospel and bluegrass element. ‘I Wish You Peace’ was co-written with Patti Davis, and accepted by other band members with some reluctance as the final track on the truly magnificent 1975 album One of These Nights. It’s almost a prayer. It’s heading in the direction of a blessing. It’s not specifically Christian or even explicitly theistic. But that’s what makes it flexible and able to be appreciated and owned by people ‘of many faiths and none’. Musically, it’s gently upholding and calmly uplifting. As the music does its stuff, peace, hope, strength and love are encouraged. In the face of storms, low points, cold, loneliness and feverish or hard times, kind words can prove effective and embraces can supply warmth. Love can flow, and does this through practical actions. 

How The Eagles might have developed in the late 70s and beyond had Bernie Leadon not left is one of those great ‘What ifs’. But he did leave, even if he reappeared as a band-member on some of their more recent reunion performances and tours. He has not produced a huge amount of solo or other music in his own right afterwards (though check out his 1977 album Natural Progressions with Michael Georgiades, and the 1985 bluegrass initiative Ever Call Ready, a one-off Gospel album).  

My own encounter with the original was as a result of my brother’s vinyl collection. Hours spent nipping into his room (with his permission) and mining the riches of what he’d assembled meant discovering hidden gems like this beyond the ‘greatest hits’. It’s a kind of spiritual discipline: not putting up just with what the critics, or the sales results, throw in your direction, but engaging with the range of what’s out there, and with all of an artist’s/band’s recorded work. It also means looking for, and potentially responding positively to, not just what’s identifiably Christian or religious. God does stuff in and through all sorts of music…as regular readers of The Friday Fix know full well! 

Bernie Leadon doesn’t have his own website so you’ll have to make more effort to find out about him!

The Eagles have a website at https://eagles.com/.