I don’t really know much about Kirsty MacColl apart from the fact that she died a horrible death and she is part of one of the most played Christmas songs of all time. I also remember her funny song about a guy who looks like Elvis that works in the chip shop. Last year, I was introduced to another song from her back catalogue that I have played on a loop ever since.
On the way to work, I tune into Zoe Ball’s breakfast show and she had Jojo Moyes as a guest. Jojo is one of my favourite writers so I was interested to hear about her new book ‘Someone Else’s Shoes’. During the interview, Zoe played this song by Kirsty MacColl and as soon as I got to work, I began researching it.
It had such a catchy melody with horns and a Salsa beat. Now it is my favourite song to sing in the shower when no one is listening.
Kirsty described it as “a song about being a fashion victim; being a slave to fashion and crippling yourself in the process”. It’s a song about a woman who is propositioned by a number of men who offer her exciting adventures but she cannot take part and says to the men:
“In these shoes? I don’t think so!”
One hopeful partner asks her to walk up and down his spine but she says if she did:
“I doubt you’d survive!”.
The chorus is in Spanish and proclaims
No le gusta caminar No puede montar a caballo Cómo se puede bailar Es un escándalo
Which translates into
She doesn’t like to walk, She can’t ride a horse How can she dance It’s a scandal
In the bible, we are told that there is a time for every activity under heaven.
I love to dance.
There have been nights when I have danced until the music was turned off but nowadays my hips will not allow too much boogying before they begin complaining.
I have never been one to dance in heels though. I am not a slave to fashion in that way. In fact, in the recent past, I went to an 80s weekend at Butlins and all the people in my party decided to dress up as Octogenarians. I danced in my granny slippers. My feet didn’t ache at all the next day so I have taken to turning up to parties in my dancing slippers.
So when no one is in the house I will put on my slippers, turn on my tune and salsa around with abandon because no one is watching.
How many times have you read the Friday Fix and been inspired, moved or reassured – and it’s reminded you of a different song that prompted similar feelings?
How many times have you thought ‘I could write a Friday Fix’ and then not got around to writing it and sending it in?
How many times have you half-written one but then worried that it’s not good enough?
We have some fabulous regular contributors but we also love to receive ‘one-offs’ too – and we can’t help thinking that there are a few of you that are almost poised to send a Friday Fix to us but then bottle it.
A few years ago, I got a bit grumpy that music wasn’t what it used to be. Well, what do you expect – I’d become properly middle-aged so complaining about what the younger generations were listening to seems to be a thing you do. What I really meant was that it didn’t seem to be a mouthpiece for social commentary, observation and, heaven forbid, activism anymore. And it felt like the ‘protest song’ had especially disappeared from the popular music sphere.
I was born into the world when the Vietnam War was reaching its peak. I grew up with Bob Dylan, Edwin Starr, and John Lennon blaring away in the background. And during my teenage years in the 1980s, it felt like you couldn’t move for protest songs – Bob Marley, U2, The Specials, NWA, Midnight Oil, The Jam, Peter Gabriel…to name but a few.
The 90’s had its fair share too but since 2000, the number of protest songs seems to have reduced reasonably dramatically. Of course, I’m not saying that there aren’t any, it just seems that they don’t seem to exist in the mainstream so much anymore, and that’s probably down to the changing way in which we engage with popular music these days through streaming and so on.
So I was delighted when I walked past my teenage son’s bedroom the other day and heard these words blaring out:
Mister, how you making all your money? Tell me, what’s the reason for this war? You’ve bombed another country and left its people hungry Where I doubt that things where quite so bad before
It made my heart skip a beat to hear the words and music of this song. I often hear young people being derided and criticised for not being interested and concerned about things; that they are lazy and entitled, and that ‘our generation’ was never like that – we showed respect, blah, blah. Hmm. Having been a worker with young people since the early 90’s, I can categorically say these accusations fly at every generation. I once read an article from the Leicester Mercury about young people marauding and causing havoc in the city to a Rotary Club dinner and asked them when they thought it was written. Nobody guessed it was from the 1800’s.
So my concern that protest songs were on the decline doesn’t need to exist. When you start looking, there are lots and lots out there and this I find reassuring. That people continue to use music to voice concerns, ask questions and nudge consciences. The centuries-old tradition of the protest song is still shining the light on injustice.
Art in its many forms, has always been a way to question and challenge. Sarah Corbett, founder of the Craftivist Collective which brings together craft and activism describes it as the art of gentle protest. Music likewise, has been a non-violent way to galvanise people to collectively protest and speak truth to power.
Listening to, and playing music is more than a means of deriving pleasure and enjoyment. It’s an art that has, and continues to play a key role in tackling injustice, striving for equality, and gives voice to our desire for peace.
What I love most about this song is that it questions the values and morals of those who govern. The hypocritical nature of policies and actions:
Mister, why d’you send that fleeing family In squalor to wherever you see fit? When its in your manifesto to stop them begging outside Tesco… Do you not think this makes you a hypocrite?
The influence of global business and manufacturers:
Mister, what d’you make of all these rebels? In the deserts, fighting in the sands With guns from South Dakota and trucks made by Toyota One wonders how such things posses their hand?
And how we respond (or don’t respond) to the impact that our actions have on others
Mister, where’s the place that they call home now? Tell me when these people will be free You’ve rolled in with your tanks and now you’ve set up all your banks It’s thanks to you they’re labelled refugees
I pray to God it will be one of the last memories I lose, should my memory start to fade (at least in relation to music). Somewhat surprisingly, it is not of the Glastonbury Festival, or the Indie Discos of my university days, or secret moments of dancing around the house. No, it is far more traditional than that. Staying at Sarum College in Salisbury, feeling in somewhat of a funk, I took myself over to the cathedral for evensong. To be honest, as the service progressed I was operating pretty much on auto-pilot, with the music simply washing over me. That is, until we reached the Magnificat. The setting was that of Orlando Gibbons’ Second Service, not a setting I knew until that point. Suddenly my mood lifted and I felt an energy I had not felt in quite some time.
To start with, the impact was fairly gentle, but as the piece built the charge it gave me grew. I have always found the Magnificat to be a fairly radical prayer – prophetic both in its claiming eternal blessing for a woman, and in its sense of God’s justice. As I not only listened but heard Gibbons’ setting, as it grabbed me, it felt I was hearing its prophetic power anew. Gibbons, it seemed to me, and still seems, understood its prophetic power in a way few religious composers have. And it seems to me that prophetic power must itself have coursed in his veins as he wrote his Second Service. He was a member of the Royal Chapel from about 1603, and spent much of his musical career under the patronage of James I amongst others of significant power and wealth.
It is remarkable, therefore, that he should choose to musically highlight that part of the Magnificat that speaks of God’s preferential option for the poor and the just judgement that the rich and powerful face. The most repeated line (Jacobean polyphony and verse work includes much repetition of lines) in the whole piece is “He has scatterèd the proud” – one could find few more proud in the Jacobean Court than James himself! Over and over again, Gibbons emphasises Mary’s expression of God’s disdain for the proud, powerful and rich and the priority given to the humble and hungry. When one considers his need for patronage, and the reality that this piece would undoubtedly be performed before the highest echelons of the still-feudal aristocratic society, one cannot surely be failed to be moved to think that it must have taken great courage, no doubt inspired by the same Spirit that inspired Mary, for Gibbons to set the words of Mary’s great prophetic words in a way that itself was prophetic, speaking great truth to significant power.
When I need reminding of the power and good news of the Gospel, I turn to the Magnificat and to Gibbons’ Second Service setting of it. In doing so I am reminded of God’s willingness to unexpectedly engage with a young woman in the work of the incarnation, of God’s justice and the truth that in the incarnation the ways of the world have been turned upside down, and of the reality that God’s Spirit has used the words of Mary recorded by Luke to inspire further generations to speak prophetically to those in power.
Okay. So yes. I could have opted for the original version by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. Believe me, it took me ages to decide which version to choose as I love both equally (and yes, I know there are more versions out there than these two…). In the end, I decided to go with the Diana Ross version because this Friday Fix is also influenced by a favourite film of mine which has this version as part of the soundtrack.
The whole story behind this song is interesting in itself. It was penned by songwriting couple Ashford and Simpson in 1966, and despite Dusty Springfield being keen to record it, Ashford and Simpson held on to the song because they really wanted it for the Motown label. In 1967, the song was recorded by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell and it became a hit. A few years later, in 1970, the song was the first solo hit for Diana Ross after parting company with The Supremes.
The ‘mountains’ that inspired Nickolas Ashford were actually the skyscrapers of New York and the thought came to him that even obstacles as tall and intimidating as these structures couldn’t quash his dreams and aspirations. As he pondered these ‘mountains’ with his wife, Valerie Simpson, they began to think about the peaks and troughs of love and the song was born.
To me, the Gaye & Terrell version comes across as very much a love song between two people; whereas this version feels more like a song about love in the wider sense. I sense empowerment and liberation in it; an acknowledgment that the act of loving involves letting go and watching from afar. It captures the love that realises that it doesn’t have any control over what happens to those they care about; it also highlights that to receive love involves asking for it too. Something that might not come easy to some of us.
If you need me, call me No matter where you are No matter how far Just call my name
Just call my name. Ask and it shall be given.
I mentioned earlier that this song instantly invokes memories of one my favourite films. Some might be thinking ‘oh yeah, the ending of Guardians of the Galaxy‘ – and to be honest, that scene is probably a helpful way to understand unconditional love. However, I’m referring to Bridget Jones’s Diary. And to gently highlight a little observation of mine that I’m not sure many film critics have noticed.
I’ve said in previous Fixes that I love a good soundtrack and that if chosen well, it helps make a film. The soundtrack of Bridget Jones’s Diary is a great example, in my opinion. And the way that this song is used in the film is genius. Because it is used twice. Once when Bridget realises that Mark Darcy really does like her ‘just as you are’, and boots her Dad out of the driving seat so that she can get to the Darcy’s Ruby Wedding as quickly as possible (and thus declare her true feelings); and the second time is during the final scene when Bridget realises something once again and goes running through the snowy streets of London in camisole, knickers, cardi and trainers.
The song used this way reminds us that not only Bridget’s love life but life in general, is full of challenges and successes. Bridget thought she had summited the mountain of her love on her way to the Ruby Wedding, only to be confronted by an unseen obstacle that prevented her getting any further at that point. However, she had another chance at the summit which had a different outcome for her.
Mountains don’t often sit on their own, they are usually surrounded by a range of mountains. Some mountains are pretty straightforward to climb, many mountain ranges have lush valleys and plateaus to rest and enjoy, and then there are the mountains where we think we’ve reached the summit only to find that there’s a little way and a steeper climb yet.
Mountains are also key places in the bible. They are places of transformative encounters. Places of visions, covenants, transfigurations. Mountains are often thought to be places of spirituality within many beliefs and religions, in fact. If you have ever stood at the top of a mountain, you will know the light, the peacefulness and the beauty that exists there.
But it is also the descent that holds importance too. People on the way down a mountain share their experiences and talk about what they have seen. Reaching the top of a mountain helps us to see the bigger picture, and it also helps us to understand the terrain that we might still need to tackle or support others through.
The key thing is – we don’t have to navigate this all alone because we are not alone. There is love completely surrounding us. And there is also love from a distance, willing us on and moving in, willing to swoop if needed. Just reach out for it (as Ashford & Simpson also wrote in a different song…).
Ain’t no mountain high enough Ain’t no valley low enough Ain’t no river wide enough To keep me from you
Foo Fighter’s Hearing Voices’ is clearly about grief. The whole album feels as though it is a form of processing grief, that of the deaths of drummer Taylor Hawkins and Dave Grohl’s mother, Virginia. But Grohl is on record as recognising that part of the joy of music is that people find different meanings in the same song. For me, the song, and the idea of seeking out a particular voice, brings to mind a different experience.
Now, to tell this story I need to be clear that while I grew up in the Church, the son of an Anglican parish priest, it was very much the rational, reasonable, liberal-to-radical part of the Church. To put it bluntly, I was more likely to think someone who told me God had spoken to them was psychotic rather than a saint!
It is important to know this because I have no other way of describing the situation I found myself in other than saying that God spoke to me! And I know how crazy that sounds because I grew up thinking the same. In fact, the cynic in me is probably still more likely to lean towards hearing God’s voice as a sign of mental breakdown than of divine revelation.
Yet, this is my story. As I say, I grew up the son of a ‘preacher man’ (to coin a phrase), and faced the usual comments from usually well-meaning folk, asking, “When are you going to follow your dad into the ministry?” In my late teens and early twenties my stock answer was that “the only kind of minister I plan on being is the kind who sits on a green leather bench.”
However, as my non-political career developed, I found myself in a job that I loved, working with a team of people I loved working with. It’s important to know that – I’d done jobs I didn’t enjoy, but I loved this one. Then, one afternoon, sat alone in my office, at my desk, working on a particularly exciting project, I heard a voice in my head say, “You should be a minister.” Now, I could have ignored this. It was, after all, a nonsense – I was doing a job I loved and heading in a good direction both in terms of work and social life. Why would I let go of all of this to head in an entirely new, and to my way of thinking entirely undesired, direction?
Yet the voice was insistent, and I took it seriously precisely because I could not consider it my own voice – I would never have said that! So, as stupid as I thought it sounded, I told my then-girlfriend (now wife), my minister, my dad, some friends I trusted (faithful, agnostic and atheist). None denied the idea was somewhat amusing, but also none suggested it was unreasonable. So here I am, closing in on 20 years later, an ordained minister, in circuit for over 11 of those years.
Since then, I’ve continued to hear voices – as a depressive and sufferer of anxiety, Black Dog’s voice is a familiar one, sometimes quiet and sometimes overwhelmingly loud; my own voice is also familiar to me as someone who has a very keen internal monologue; and there are the voices of those who have helped or hindered me down the years, who continue to echo around my mind. But only that once would I say I heard the voice of God speak straight to me.
The journey since has not been easy, but I know what I heard, and I will never regret listening to what it said. And I keep listening, just in case…
Lyrics
I think I spoke too soon It’s time to clear the air It’s quiet in my room The silence is unfair
I’ve been hearing voices None of them are you I’ve been hearing voices None of them are you
Late at night, I tell myself Nothing this good could last forever
No one cries like you No one cries like you
I’ve been hearing voices I’ve been hearing voices now I’ve been hearing voices None of them are you None of them are you None of them are you None of them are you
I’ve seen you in the moon I wish that you were here You promised me your word A whisper in my ear
Every night, I tell myself Nothing like you could last forever
No one cries like you No one cries like you No one lies like you No one lies like you
I’ve been hearing voices I’ve been hearing voices now I’ve been hearing voices None of them are you None of them are you None of them are you None of them are you
Speak to me, my love Speak to me, my love
I’ve been hearing voices None of them are you I’ve been hearing voices None of them are you
If anybody has watched the Louis Theroux documentary with Stormzy, you’ll know that in it Stormzy talks candidly about his life and his battles with poor mental health. Watching it, you get the sense when Stormzy talks about being broken and afraid, it’s real. This is somebody who has been there and has integrity.
When I first heard ‘Blinded by Your Grace Part Two’ I could fully relate to the lyrics and knew that Stormzy was authentic because I’d been there too.
If we go back to the first Sunday of the new millennium, 2 January 2000, I was a single mum living on benefits; having escaped having my flat repossessed by the skin of my teeth. I had spent a couple of years completely broken, suffering reactive depression and being afraid of life and my ability to cope.
I walked into a church and saw that they were giving out stickers that had a Bible verse on saying, “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ (Jeremiah 29:11)”. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. For me at that point plans to prosper went about as far as it being a good week for offers in Iceland and Sainsbury’s.
To cut a long storyshort, I decided to say to God, “Okay, if this sticker means anything I’m going to hold you to it.” Nine months later I went back to university to study for a PGCE, and started a new life, just me and my daughter, halfway across the country from our family.
When I look back at those times and think about the nightmare my life was – a totally broken mess – I see the journey I’ve been on. I, too, am blinded by God’s grace and the way he has been with me, helping me rebuild my life. Yes, I needed to do my bit, but God did fix my life and has been with me as I’ve moved forward. Some of that has involved God working through the right medication but it’s also been a whole lot more that I can’t describe. The key thing is that I’m no longer afraid.
So, when I heard this song for the first time, I immediately got it. You know when someone else has been ‘there’; not through the same experience but has felt that level of pain and hopelessness and come out the other side, so thankful that they’re not in that place anymore. That’s what the lyrics of this song express to me.
Lyrics
I’m Blinded By Your Grace (By Your Grace) I’m Blinded By Your Grace, by your grace (By Your Grace) I’m Blinded By Your Grace (By Your Grace) I’m Blinded By Your (By Your)
Lord I’ve been broken Although I’m not worthy You fixed me I’m Blinded By Your Grace You came and saved me
Lord I’ve been broken Although I’m not worthy You fixed me Now I’m Blinded By Your Grace You came and saved me
One time for the Lord And one time for the cause And one round of applause One time for Fraser T Smith on the chords I think we got one, I stay prayed up then I get the job done Yeah, I’m Abigail’s yout, but I’m God’s son But I’m up now, look at what God’s done Now I real talk, look at what God did On the main stage runnin’ ’round topless I phone Flipz then I tell him that we got this This is God’s plan, they can never stop this
Like, wait right there, could you stop my verse? You saved this kid and I’m not your first It’s not by blood and it’s not by birth But oh my God, what a God I serve
Lord I’ve been broken Although I’m not worthy You fixed me I’m Blinded By Your Grace You came and saved me
Lord I’ve been broken Although I’m not worthy You fixed me Now I’m Blinded By Your Grace You came and saved me
I said a prayer this morning I prayed I would find a way To another day, I was so afraid ‘Til you came and saved, you came and saved me And the rain was pouring, ’cause the sun faded away
Now I’m in a better place, no longer afraid Blinded By Your Grace, you came and saved me, yeah
I said a prayer this morning, I prayed I would find a way
To another day, I was so afraid ‘Til you came and saved, you came and saved me
And the rain was pouring, ’cause the sun faded away Now I’m in a better place, no longer afraid Blinded By Your Grace, you came and saved me, yeah
Lord I’ve been broken Although I’m not worthy You fixed me I’m Blinded By Your Grace You came and saved me
Lord I’ve been broken Although I’m not worthy You fixed me Now I’m Blinded By Your Grace You came and saved me
We would love to hear about how this song made you feel. Make sure you share your thoughts with us on social media, by tagging our account on X (formally Twitter), Facebook, Instagram or TikTok and using #OutOfTheOrdinary.
Clarification – For our reflection on the 14 December, Adela Samayoa was introduced as a Mission Partner. While Adela is a greatly valued member of our partner Church in El Salvador and a partner in our shared mission with God, she is not part of the Mission Partner programme of the Methodist Church in Britain. Our apologies for any confusion caused.
Wherever you are in life, there’s a place for you at church. From Sundayservices to events during the week, we’d love to welcome you.
I’m sure, like me, you have found yourself at some point in your life caught up in a situation where, although things don’t feel quite right, you can’t seem to prise yourself away from it to move on. It may be a set of circumstances that has been imposed on you and from which you see no escape; it may be a friendship with someone who seems to suck the joy out of life; it may be a place where you don’t feel safe or where you can be yourself.
Although this is a classic ‘break-up’ song from Gabrielle, I think the meaning of it can be also be applied to any situation or relationship that has needed to come to an end. A career move; a move to another house, or town, or country; that bittersweet and gradual transition from childhood to adulthood; a decision to end a friendship or relationship; a congregation having to decide to close their church.
Endings are a big thing aren’t they? They can be sudden and a shock to the system; they can be planned and carefully thought through; they can be welcomed and anticipated with excitement or enthusiasm; or they can be consistently avoided until there’s no other way than to bring things to an end.
The verses in ‘Rise’ capture the key emotions of a period of transition. The first verse is all about disbelief, denial and a touch of scepticism; verse two is all about processing; unpicking and coming to an understanding of what is happening; and verse three is acceptance and starting to move on.
It’s funny really that we can be so resistant to change when fundamentally that is what life is. “It is when we are in transition that we are most completely alive.” says William Bridges. It’s when we question, push back, wonder, learn and grow.
I’m not keen on the saying that ‘God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle’ or that ‘everything happens for a reason.’ What I do see is that it’s the richness of life’s experiences and the moments of doubt, insecurity and worry that can lead us to a place of hope. If we embrace these times and wrestle with them, it can truly be a time for growth and understanding – and who knows where that may lead us.
One of the messages that we hear every year during Advent and Christmas is ‘Fear not’. That’s what speaks to me in this song. You may have been laid low, and yet, there are hopes, and there are dreams, and there are bridges from these scenes and the opportunity to ‘rise’ again.
Lyrics
I know that it’s over But I can’t believe we’re through They say that time’s a healer, yeah And I’m better without you It’s gonna take time, I know But I’ll get over you
Look at my life Look at my heart I have seen them fall apart Now I’m ready to rise again Just look at my hopes Look at my dreams I’m building bridges from these scenes Now I’m ready to rise again
Caught up in my thinking, yeah Like a prisoner in my mind You pose so many questions That the truth was hard to find I better think twice I know That I’ll get over you
Look at my life Look at my heart I have seen them fall apart Now I’m ready to rise again Just look at my hopes Look at my dreams I’m building bridges from these scenes Now I’m ready to rise again
Much time has passed between us, hmm Do you still think of me at all? My world of broken promises You won’t catch me when I fall
Look at my life Look at my heart I have seen them fall apart And now I’m ready to rise again Just look at my hopes Look at my dreams I’m building bridges from these scenes Now I’m ready to rise again
Yes, I’m gonna rise Gonna make it alright I’m gonna be who I wanna be Yeah baby, yeah, yeah
I’m gonna make it alright I’m gonna make it alright…
The Friday Fix 