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What songs remind you of summer?

Are there any summer memories that as soon as you hear a certain song, it takes you right back there?

What would be on your summer playlist?

How about sharing a song and reflection with us on the Friday Fix – we love a summer vibe. Just get in touch with Gill on thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk with your thoughts…

Gill writes:

I’ve been meaning to write a Fix about a song from The Proclaimers for quite a while, but I was spurred into action by a little snippet of news the other day. That snippet was the fact that the official ‘King’s Coronation Playlist’ had originally included a song from the duo but there had been complaints because of their anti-monarchy stance, so it was withdrawn from the playlist.

I’m sure Charlie and Craig (The Proclaimers) probably don’t care a jot as to whether they were included or not. Newswise, it was just a storm in an espresso cup but for some of us, it grated a little bit – perhaps because it feels a bit symbolic of our times. There appears to be a rise in intolerance of views and actions that might ‘rock the boat’ or that question the system. Wouldn’t a King’s playlist that included musicians with differing views be an example of how to embrace difference?

It seems ironic, really, that the reason why I chose to reflect on this week’s song is because of The Proclaimers’ ability to write songs that bring people together. So anyway…

If you’ve ever had the opportunity to see The Proclaimers perform live, you’ll know that this song really takes on a life of its own. This song, and ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)’, are when the crowd really takes over in the singing stakes. And something curious also takes place. The whole crowd develops a Scottish accent. It really does. Try singing this song without pronouncing ‘worth’, ‘earth’ and ‘you’ with a strong Scottish brogue – and you’ll see what I mean.

We’ve covered the unifying elements that music and lyrics can bring in previous Fixes before. The power, passion and healing that collective singing can bring is remarkable. It can gather together people from vastly different backgrounds and create a connecting point that transcends any barriers. Music really can be the catalyst for peace and solidarity.

In my humble opinion, it is songs about love that offer a great opportunity to tap into emotions and understanding that most of us can relate to. The simplistic narrative of this song takes us on that complex journey from a broken heart, upset, or trauma:

My heart was broken
My heart was broken
Sorrow, sorrow
Sorrow, sorrow

And it starts to reveal the effect that the power of love can have…

My heart was broken
My heart was broken
You saw it, you claimed it
You touched it, you saved it

My tears are drying
My tears are drying
Thank you, thank you
Thank you, thank you

My tears are drying
My tears are drying
Your beauty and kindness
Made tears clear my blindness

This doesn’t mean that everything is sorted and life is all hunky-dory; it means that you are not on your own. That someone- a friend, family member, partner, carer, God – is with you and helping you to see the way ahead. It may still be bumpy, but a bumpy ride with a passenger is way better than one travelled on your own.

The beauty of this song is that it encapsulates more than the romantic love that many ‘love songs’ allude to. It’s inclusive, not exclusive. It can be about anybody or anywhere that has touched your heart and enabled you to glimpse hope; that the beauty of people (or places) and kindness shown to you can clear my blindness.

And then the song climbs to that gentle crescendo which just requires a good bellow from the top of your lungs. There’s a sense of relief and release, of humility, of recognising that we’re of worth, and of accepting that life is a gift.

While I’m worth
My room on this Earth
I will be with you

And that gift of life comes from something much bigger than us. Love, Lifeforce, God, Chief – however you want to understand it. We’re gifted precious time in a wonderful world alongside some incredible human beings (and lots of other beings too!) and it’s not us that has control over that.

Some of my ‘most favourite lyrics ever’ lie within this song and capture a sense of divine intervention in a musical nutshell –

While the Chief puts sunshine on Leith

and goes on to a great little prayer of thanksgiving

I’ll thank Him
For His work
And your birth
And my birth
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Of course, those of us who have ever lived on the east coast, like those who live in Leith, will know that sunshine can often be smothered by a cold, dank and gloomy sea fret. There’s many a time when I have driven back to a home close to the North Sea and thought “It’s a lovely warm evening here in Lincoln/Morpeth – I can sit out when I get home,” only to be welcomed by a major drop in temperature and misty cloud which scuppered any such plans.

Maybe that’s a good analogy about life sometimes – spiritual and otherwise. The sun is always there – sometimes you can see, feel and enjoy the benefits of it, and sometimes others are enjoying the benefits whilst you are enveloped in a cold fog (and vice versa). The sun is always there, behind the fog – trying to break through. The fog may persist for longer than you want it to but it will eventually lift, and at least for a few minutes you’re more appreciative than usual of that lovely sunshine.

A couple of years ago, our family of three had been on a bit of a ‘bumpy ride’ together and we decided on a fairly spontaneous short break to the Cairngorms to help reset. We arrived in Edinburgh around 0900 to break the journey and walked up Arthur’s Seat to stretch our legs. It was pretty dull weather, with a chill in the air as we set off, but as we neared the summit, the sun broke through and as you looked down, you could see the sun shining on Leith. It brought a smile to our lips, a tingle down the spine, and a sense that everything was going to be alright.

And for the rest of that day (as it is for other challenging days), this song was all that I needed to hear (and sing).

I took a photo of The Chief shining sunshine on Leith!

The Proclaimers are still performing and you can find out more here – https://the.proclaimers.co.uk/

Having provided the Good Friday Fix, here’s a follow-up that can be used as an Easter Day Fix if you would like: https://spotify.link/h5OWQJIaRyb. Courtesy of Tom Osbourne.

Tom writes:

Good Friday. How does one offer thoughts and feelings through music that might be appropriate on this of all days? Well, on this occasion, by offering a playlist, not a single song, and by offering it as part of a possible reflective liturgy.

Eight years ago, as a minister in Cornwall, I decided to try and offer a creative way into the Passion of Christ, and particularly the last sayings of Jesus on the cross. What eventually came into being was a service called, ‘Outro’. Its structure was simple – an opening and a closing prayer, bookending a repeating sequence of a scripture passage followed by a piece of popular music. Seven times repeated, in fact – one for each of the last sayings.

I’ve reflected on that worship experience a great deal since, including a published article (https://www.wesley.cam.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/09-osborne.pdf), and even for a while ran a regular service at one of my churches in Essex, using the same pattern to reflect on a variety of themes (we called it ‘Ink-R-n8’). I know that while it may not work for all, it certainly works for some, including those who might not initially expect it to – one congregation member for Outro came most unwillingly, yet expressed to me afterwards how very glad they were they had.

So now I offer it here, in a rather different setting. I offer the following as a way of engaging:

– Find a Bible and mark the seven readings.

– Sit in a comfortable space – maybe a regular prayer seat, maybe somewhere outside, wherever, just make sure you’re comfortable, with access to your Bible and the playlist.

– Start by offering a quiet prayer to God – that you would know God’s presence, and that you would be enabled to hear God speak, through the words of scripture, the lyrics of the songs, the feelings the music might evoke.

– Read the first reading. Do so slowly. Perhaps do so out loud.

– Pause.

– Play the first track on the playlist.

– Pause.

– Read the next reading.

– Pause.

– Play the next track.

– Repeat the above four steps until you reach the end of the readings and songs.

– Pause.

– Finish by offering a further prayer to God. Offer to God all that you have experienced in the reading and listening, and ask that God would enable you to carry those experiences with you as you journey through Good Friday and Holy Saturday to Easter Day – and beyond!

The Friday Fix on Good Friday usually tries to somehow reflect the sentiment of the day.

This year, we will be sharing a playlist that has been curated by Tom Osbourne. The playlist will help you to contemplate the Passion of Christ by listening to and reflecting on seven songs that relate to the final words spoken by Jesus.

The Fix will drop a little earlier than usual – at 0900 – so that you might have the time and space to prepare and listen to the playlist as it suits you.

Mandy writes:

After writing ‘Into Temptation’, Neil Finn (the lead singer of Crowded House) found himself in an awkward situation.

He wrote so convincingly about the lure of a woman in a new blue dress that his wife Sharon thought he was having an affair and he had to work hard to convince her that the song was not in fact, based on his own infidelity.

It was actually inspired by an experience in a motel in New Zealand where Finn observed a men’s rugby team partying with a women’s netball team. Back in his room, he thought he heard a knock at his door, but when he looked out he realised a woman was going into the room of the rugby player next door.

And so the song begins…an exploration of that split second between anticipation and decision, possibility and reality, lust and regret.

Humanity is displayed in full force in this song. Being with the woman in the new blue dress can’t do any harm…can it? After all “a muddle of nervous words, could never amount to betrayal”

There is a moment that perfectly sums up the fleeting promise of a glance:

“As I turned to go, you looked at me for half a second. With an open invitation, for me to go into temptation”

Temptation can be a slow-burning thing but sometimes it is that split second, that look, that glance, a tiny thing which can charge the atmosphere and change the course of an evening, of a life.

Finn, who had a Catholic upbringing, also explores the nature of regret and guilt. Again, his songwriting goes right to the heart of human experience:

“The guilty get no sleep, in the last slow hours of morning.

Experience is cheap – I should have listened to the warning.

But the cradle is soft and warm….”

The world tips on its axis, burdened by guilt and there is no redemption to lighten the mood at the end.

In a sense this song could be described as a classic cautionary tale – don’t do this, kids – don’t give in to the temptations around you, otherwise things will go badly wrong.

It rests in perfect contrast to the abilities of Jesus to resist the temptations put before him by the devil during his wilderness experience, often explored in Lent.

So why does it work? It expresses the fallibility of humanity, the capacity that we all have to make a split second decision that could be amazing or catastrophic. Neil Finn invites us into that split second and challenges us to reflect on what temptation means for each one of us.

Find out what Crowded House are up to at https://www.crowdedhouse.com/

If you think you have a Friday Fix ‘up your sleeve’, then it’s time to set it free and send it to us!

Seriously, we’re always looking for contributors, new and old – and it would be nice to have a couple appear in the inbox over the next few weeks. Just drop Gill an email with your thoughts on a song (that isn’t religious as such) at thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk.

Gill writes:

It feels to me that The Specials and Fun Boy Three have provided a backing track for my life over the last three or four years. ‘The Lunatics Have Taken Over The Asylum’, ‘You’re Wondering Now’, ‘Ghost Town’ and ‘Our Lips Are Sealed’ mostly, but it’s ‘Do Nothing’ that I have honed in on recently.

The song features in Sam Mendes’ latest film ‘Empire of Light’ – a story set in a British seaside town in the early 1980’s. Both the film and the song take you right back to the early 80’s when the Thatcher Government was starting to find their feet. The Winter of Discontent was fresh in people’s minds and the country had backed Margaret Thatcher’s bid for leadership in the hope that her administration would prevent unions from wielding such power again, that the individual would become key, and that privatisation was the route to a successful modern economy.

Yet here we are in 2023 and in some ways it feels like we’re back to 1980 once again. The approach that Margaret Thatcher’s government took appears to have eventually brought us back to square one, rather than change things.

Nothing ever change, oh no
Nothing ever change

But is that really the case? Has nothing ever changed since 1980? I think, maybe, the answer is quite a complicated one and I’m not sure I can reach a conclusive answer.

Have I changed, for example? Have you? Well, physically I have but I think there is still a lot of the teenage me still there. When I was leaving a job at the age of 24, my boss said to me ‘Try not to change too much. Just be yourself in life.’

People say to me just be yourself

Yet I have lived and learned more about me over the years, so maybe I am not only myself but even more myself? Perhaps I am a stronger, less diluted version of the 24yr old who was encouraged not to change too much.

Has society changed? Well, yes and no. We are more progressive, more aware and more inclusive in some ways. Yet in other ways, it feels like we have regressed to the post-war (or even inter-war) years. The song talks of police brutality, and only this week we have been reminded of crimes committed by police officers. 43 years on and it seems that nothing has changed. Perhaps we humans don’t change as much as we like to think we do.

Has the church changed? Well – yes and no. Again, like society, we are more inclusive and progressive but then I ask myself ‘how would the church respond to the members of The Specials if they turned up today’ and I can’t help thinking that many (though not all) churches wouldn’t know how to welcome and include a bunch of young men in their late teens/early 20’s. Especially young men who felt that their life had no meaning. Would we really want to hear about them feeling like they have no value or meaning? Would we really want to do something about it?

I’m just living in a life without meaning
I walk and walk, do nothing
I’m just living in a life without feeling
I talk and talk, say nothing

It’s a good job then, that even though the lyrics could be viewed as depressing and full of despondency, and that offer a succinct summing up of life for young people in the 1980’s, I can feel God giving me a nudge. A poke of my social and spiritual conscience. A call to action.

It’s when we are at our lowest ebb that sparks of love, joy and hope can break through. Instead of doing nothing, it provokes me to do something. How about you?

You may know that Terry Hall, the lead singer of this song, died on 18th December 2022. For some, there was a prophetic nature about his ability to give voice about racism, poverty and politics. What a legacy then, that the songs he made with The Specials, Fun Boy Three and The Colourfield, will continue to challenge and change perception. Thank you Terry and may you rest in peace.

The Specials still have a website – https://www.thespecials.com/

Jane writes:

I am the kind of person drawn to lyrics in songs, and if you were to examine my regular playlists of choices you might find a lot of honesty and deep pain in the words of songwriters I prefer. I do do happy tracks too but find songwriting to be at its best when it’s plumbing the depths of the human soul and settling there.

I was travelling with a friend recently and they said I’d do well to listen to less of that and more of stuff that carries positivity within it. It’s obviously settled with me. Whilst I can’t change the habit of a lifetime and my love for all things soul-searching, I did think that maybe this year I might start to collect songs of support, encouragement and affirmation.

This is one such song

It’s a song from my childhood. A track on a fabulous album that I was allowed to listen to with my older cousins at their house. It’s epic especially if played loud and very hard to sing along to in my experience because of the vocal capability of Art Garfunkel.  It has a brilliant ebb and flow to it – as well as saying all the things you might want to someone struggling or in a bit of a spot .

When you’re weary
Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I’ll dry them all
I’m on your side
Oh, when times get rough
And friends just can’t be found

Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

In the old days, people created cassette tapes for those they cared for and sent messages of love and support. These days I guess you’d share a Spotify, Apple Music or Amazon playlist.  Even one track might hit the spot.

So today dig out your favourite track of love and encouragement, send it to whoever needs it and in that moment be that bridge for another. Traverse the troubled waters with them. Be that neighbour that God calls you to be. Tell someone you’ve got their back.  Be the one that cares – you never know how much the other might need it.

Oh, and collect a playlist of similar songs if you feel like it.   Ain’t music great!

Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel are still making music but not together. You can find out more here  https://www.paulsimon.com/  & here https://www.artgarfunkel.com/