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Gill writes:

There’s a theory called ‘Frequency illusion’ – also known as the Baader–Meinhof phenomenon – that we touch upon in Unconscious Bias training. It’s a theory that explains why after noticing something for the first time, there’s a tendency to notice it more often. For example, you may have bought a new car and suddenly it seems like everyone is driving cars like yours, or, like in the case of this song, the same song or word/s keep cropping up in conversation, on the radio or just in strangely random ways.

‘Titanium’ appeared on my playlist in September, and then I added it to our ‘Piano to Oslo’ journey playlist when we drove from Dorset to Oslo and back in October – transporting a family heirloom (the piano) to our nephew who lives in Oslo.

This last weekend, we watched ‘The Swimmers’ – a film about the true story of two sisters, Yusra and Sara Mardini, fleeing Syria who are also talented swimmers (no spoilers – you can find it on Netflix) and guess what – this song appeared more than once on the soundtrack. If ever a song was more appropriate to the narrative of ‘The Swimmers’ then it’s this one.

As you can imagine the journey across Europe to Germany (where Yusra and Sara sought asylum) is harrowing, frightening and anger-inducing. It’s also one full of hope – where the sisters are surrounded and protected by love, an armour of love just like titanium.

You shoot me down, but I won’t fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down, but I won’t fall
I am titanium

I don’t know how much you know about titanium – apologies to the geologists, chemists and engineers amongst you. It’s a natural metal with low corrosive properties which was discovered by Rev William Gregor, an English vicar and amateur mineralogist, in Cornwall in 1791. It’s one of the strongest metals, it’s pretty lightweight, heat-resistant and doesn’t react with body tissues (so it’s great for prosthetics). It really is an impressive, natural metal.

I have to admit that I’m not a big listener of ‘house’ or ‘urban-dance’ music, so this song is a little outside of the usual genres I listen. I’m thankful, therefore, for random ‘chosen for you’ playlists that expand my musical horizon. I’m also grateful for those who choose and write soundtracks for films that marry the imagery of a song with a film so perfectly. In this case, the notion that there are things that can try to destroy you but having an inner strength enveloped by an exterior of love can help to deflect or ricochet. No matter what, you can’t hurt me. I refuse to be destroyed.

I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away

Titanium does have a weakness, however – oxygen is titanium’s ‘kryptonite.’ The song may not allude to such a weakness, but I find this strangely reassuring. Oxygen is crucial to human survival, and so this reminds me of our organic, vulnerable, human state. We aren’t invincible. We can fall. We are hurt. We will die. But that doesn’t need to worry us because there is something bigger than us; we are part of something bigger than us.

Lots of us in the Learning Network in the Methodist Church gathered together on Zoom this week and we heard some very powerful words from Carolyn Merry, Director of ‘Place for Hope.’ She concluded with the thought that whether you are alive or whether you are dead, whatever circumstance you might find yourself in, God is always in there with us. 

We can be shot down; people can take their aim at us; we might be cut down; sticks and stones may break our bones – but all that doesn’t need to matter because God is with us. Catholic Trappist monk, James Finley says ‘If we are absolutely grounded in the absolute love of God that protects us from nothing even as it sustains us in all things, then we can face all things with courage and tenderness and touch the hurting places in others and in ourselves with love.” In other words, God does not prevent us from life’s experiences of pain, suffering and trauma. Instead, God’s love sustains us through the most difficult times when we might be hurting excruciatingly.

We have nothing to lose, so fire away. God is with us. Emmanuel.

You can find out more about David Guetta at https://davidguetta.com/

This week, we’re sharing a reflection from David who not only writes reflections for The Friday Fix, but also has his own blog – https://socalledsecular.org/ – and this reflection comes from there.

“So much of our intake of music is fleeting and transient. The muzak of the shopping mall. The radio playing in the corner of the workplace. The pub soundtrack drowned by our own banter and laughter. Occasionally, in these situations, we become vaguely aware of it’s presence. We may even declare to those we are sharing a drink with that we love this tune, but then our attention quickly returns to our chatter.

Music becomes the person we sit next to and ignore on the tube. Yet, any song however unknown, is a song waiting for hospitality. Waiting for the chance to be known to you.

Even in our homes, where we can choose the music we want to listen to, it often finds itself unnoticed next to us. Friends visit, drinks are poured, music is chosen, the conversation flows, and the song is drowned. Background music from your collection is an old friend waiting to be welcomed again into your midst.

To relegate music in these ways is to silence a voice that has a right to be heard, to ignore the stranger and to make our life poorer.

‘Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become soul-friends’

(Community of Spiritual Formation)

To offer music hospitality is to intentionally sit and listen. To be generous with our time and pay attention at the expense of all the other competing voices and noises in our world. It is to place music firmly in the foreground.

‘Spiritual listening is at the heart of all relationships. It is what we experience when we become a quiet, safe container into which the speaker is able to express his or her most genuine voice. There is a communion of souls.’

(Kay Lindahl, https://www.globallisteningcentre.org/spiritual-listening/)

I don’t believe any artist writes or plays for their music to lurk in shadows, to be the ignored traveller on public transport.  A true piece of art is birthed from deep within the soul of the artist and is offered to the world in the hope that there will be connection. That connection has no chance of being made if we keep the song in the background. If we become a safe container into which the music can express its most genuine voice the connection is possible.

When this connection is made, we allow the artist to speak into the space we create. With no other distractions we can immerse ourselves in the whole song. As we listen our brain will work in so many different ways to interpret rhythms, tunes and meaning of lyrics as well as interpreting the emotion of the piece. That moment when nothing else matters, when our eyes close, feet tap and our breathing falls into the rhythm of the song we have a true connection. We have a communion of souls. Our soul with the soul of the music and the artists and creator of the piece.

This is the way music is meant to communicate. This is the way music is meant to be listened to.  Allowing music to speak directly to us, by not having to fight for attention, ensures that the true voice of the music is heard.

Intentionally listening to a fresh piece of music is to listen with the anticipation and expectation that we experience at the start of a new relationship. When we hear a new song that touches us deep down, we can experience the same excitement and thrill as at the beginning of a new love affair. A relationship with limitless possibilities, in which there is a deep desire to know all we can and, simply, to be known. It is to offer a generous welcome to the unknown troubadour and begin to walk an unknown path.

It obviously takes more than one listen to become soul-friends. Revisiting the exercise of truly listening will take us into a deeper and richer relationship. It will open up many different avenues and there is no real knowing where it will lead. This is true for all spiritual journeys.

There is a spirituality in listening to music, even to so-called secular music. Definitions for spirituality abound but at the heart of many definition is the idea that spirituality is concerned with more than the physical and material things of this life and focusses on the soul, the spirit of a human.

‘Hands’ was the second single from The Raconteur’s debut album Broken Boy Soldiers. Released in the summer of 2006, it reached number 29 in the UK singles chart.

It is a love song, a song about a relationship. As I listen I hear a song about knowing and being known. A song about the deep connection between two people. A song that is concerned with the spirituality, rather than the physicality, of love.

Help me get in touch with what I feel…

Help me find the good that’s inside me…

When you listen there’s a hope and I know I’m being heard

When you smile at me and I know, and we don’t have to speak a word

When you’re with me there’s a light and I can see my way

When you speak to me it’s a song and I know what to say

Offering spiritual hospitality to a song can form the sort of connection that helps us get in touch with what we feel, help us find the good inside.

To welcome and entertain a song is to expect that the experience will lift us above the everyday, stretch us beyond our own limits and reshape us. This is what makes listening a spiritual experience. This is why offering generous hospitality to music deepens our connection with songs and why our lives are so much poorer if we only ever leave music in the background.”

Find out more about The Raconteurs at https://www.theraconteurs.com/

Kay writes:

Life always has a soundtrack for me, I’m never without a song in my head even at the saddest moments. That’s why this song “Dance with life” resonates with me.

Life is such a gift, sharing it with people we love is to be treasured, making memories for ourselves and others. Making a positive difference to the lives of others is a feeling like no other.

In my head sometimes the dance is a proper dance like a Charleston and sometimes it’s a waltz or a slow smooch. It’s maybe a foot tap or at our lowest times, the flow of our tears and our grief.

The song talks about love, it talks about “making every second your last” or making every day count. But above all, it talks about leaving a brilliant light behind.

In recent times we’ve lost a couple of wonderful people in our family, but their brilliant lights live on. Their dance with life has ended, but we will pick up the rhythm and dance on.

Find out more about Bryan Ferry at bryanferry.com

Gill writes:

I have Andrew Wiggans to thank for my getting to know this song. He won’t remember who I am, and he certainly won’t know why he deserves thanks. And now comes the confession that I learned this song, word for word, so that I could sing it along to the jukebox in the Block 10 Common Room when he was in the vicinity, in the hope that he would notice me (him being a fan of The Style Council and all).

Yes. This song may be an eloquent and vibrant protest song, but I learned it in the hope of impressing someone who I wanted to notice me. Facepalm. I did get one tiny moment when the plan came together – at a party when we sang it together at the tops of our voices on the dancefloor and I got about a 5-second acknowledgment of my existence (and even a grin).

Anyhow.

The music of Paul Weller, especially in the form of The Jam and The Style Council has accompanied me through the years and I have to say that it never seems to age. In fact, earlier this week I declared that The Style Council seems to be providing the soundtrack to life at the moment. A ‘Long Hot Summer’ followed by the ‘Walls Come Tumbling Down’ anyone?

There’s a real sense of uncertainty in the world at the moment. What will Putin do next? Will we ever try to really address climate change? What on earth is going on with our government? Do our churches really want to deal with declining numbers or just pretend it’s not happening?

It’s all very unsettling and it zaps us of energy. We can’t see a way forward, or everything feels stuck. We start to question ourselves and our purpose. We throw our hands in the air and shout ‘what the …?’ or we pray.

I was half in mind, I was half in need
And as the rain came down, I dropped to my knees and I prayed
I said, oh, heavenly thing, please cleanse my soul
I’ve seen all on offer and I’m not impressed at all
I was halfway home, I was half insane
And every shop window I looked in just looked the same
I said now send me a sign to save my life
Cause at this moment in time there’s nothing certain
In these days of mine

I guess there are two simple ways we can go when things get this way. We can do nothing. Or we can do something. As Andy Dufresne says in ‘The Shawshank Redemption’, “you can get busy living or get busy dying.” Even though the thought of it is exhausting, I choose to get busy living. And we have the words of Isaiah 1:17 as a guide – “…learn to live right. See that justice is done. Defend widows and orphans and help the oppressed.”

That when you’re knocked on your back and your life’s a flop
And when you’re down on the bottom there’s nothing else but
To shout to the top

Shout to the top so I’ve sent a postcard to someone in Russia wishing peace and love.

Shout to the top – I’ve become a member of WWF to join in their action around climate change.

Shout to the top – currently writing a letter to my Conservative MP to encourage them to be concerned about the country more than their party.

Shout to the top by supporting work and initiatives that build communities and disciples.

I wonder what you’ll shout to the top about?

The Style Council may be no longer but Paul Weller continues to challenge us with his work. Find out more at https://www.paulweller.com/news/

Okay. So if you completed the title of this post with any of the following, then we think you might have a Friday Fix up your sleeve that you haven’t shared with us yet.

Linda

love

the One

the perfect beat

trouble

fun

So don’t be shy – just jot down some thoughts on a song that says something to you and email it to Gill at thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk.

As our nation mourns the death of HM Queen Elizabeth II, the Friday Fix will pause until after the funeral service for her takes place.

Here is a blessing written by Paul Field that offers comfort and hope.

Go peaceful
In gentleness
Through the violence of these days
Give freely
Show tenderness
In all your ways

Through darkness
In troubled times
Let holiness be your aim
Seek wisdom
Let faithfulness
Burn like a flame

God speed you
God lead you
And keep you wrapped around his heart
May you be known by love

Be righteous
Speak truthfully
In a world of greed and lies
Show kindness
See everyone
Through heaven’s eyes

God hold you
Enfold you
And keep you wrapped around his heart
May you be known by love

God speed you
God lead you
And keep you wrapped around his heart

May you be known by love
May you be known by love

It’s a Bank Holiday weekend. We’ve run out of Friday Fixes this week so how about a listen to the music of this year’s Greenbelt Festival.

If you’re at Greenbelt, have fun enjoying some of it live!

Here’s the link to the playlist- https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5lqf2w8pZXTUa8gap24uD1?si=cAJ5afrhRKS7zLGnhX5G5g

Gill writes:

I thought it might be time to welcome those of you who have found your way here because you have followed the ‘Everyday Faith’ journey – ‘Striking a Chord.’

For those who aren’t aware, I was invited to put ten reflections together for our siblings in the Church of England as part of their Everyday Faith portal. I, therefore, tweaked the reflections that I have done for the Friday Fix to create the journey of daily thoughts and prayers.

The first reflection, however, is one that I hadn’t done for the Friday Fix and so I thought you might like to see how we kicked off the journey. Here we go:

Have you ever seen the film, August Rush?  There are these great lines in it that go “You know what music is? God’s little reminder that there’s something else besides us in this universe, a harmonic connection between all living beings, everywhere, even the stars.”

Popular music of any kind can help us to explore and question our beliefs, or it can help to shape our understanding of God and the world that we live in, or it can give voice to our passions and concerns about what it is to be human.

Music brings people together. It triggers memories and connections. It expresses thoughts and feelings for those who struggle to do so. It can change lives. It can be the best way of connecting with the Divine. Music is a gift from God.

One of the most well-known songs by the pop group, Abba, is ‘Thank You for the Music’.  It could almost be a prayer for those of us who hear God speaking through music and lyrics. Any kind of music that is – not just hymns, choral songs and psalms.

‘Thank you for the music,

The songs I’m singing 

Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing 

Who can live without it? 

I ask in all honesty 

What would life be? 

Without a song or a dance

What are we? 

So I say thank you for the music

For giving it to me’

Do you hear God speaking to you through music and lyrics? If you do, which songs are the ones that might have shaped or influenced your faith? If you haven’t, think about the songs that you like to play (or sing) when you’re happy, sad, angry or worried. Why do you play them? How do they make you feel? Might God be in there somewhere?

Find out more about Abba at https://abbasite.com/

David writes:

When I think of a lament, I think dirge – a combination of whinging, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, put to music. Not so with Oliver “Tuku” Mtukudzi’s collaboration with Bonnie Raitt, ‘Hear Me Lord.’

Mtukudzi, the Zimbabwean artist known for his husky voice and commitment to justice, died in January 2019. As critic Terence Blacker notes, Tuku challenged realities such as AIDS and poverty with a knack for filling even the bleakest topics with hope. He was averse to analysing his own lyrics, but seemed able to articulate the universal ache of the heart and the longing for God. Mtukudzi’s directness, penned in the chorus of this song, may encourage our own prayers to be shorter, and our church liturgies less wordy.

Hear Me, Lord

Hear me I pray

Hear me, Lord

Help me now (Help me Lord, I’m feeling low)

Help me Lord, help me now (Help me Lord, I’m feeling low)

Raitt, the American blues singer, songwriter and guitarist, recalls a band member turning her on to Mtukudzi’s music. This particular song, she writes, “used to get so much play on our late night bus rides, I just decided to cut it on the next album, so we could play it live every night”. She teamed up with Tuku in 2002 to do just that.

The link below above the unlikely duo in concert at an Austin City Limits concerts some years later. One aspect of this live recording that I particularly appreciate is the way that the artists share the melody, lyrics, and spotlight. Even as they sing in the first person…

I am down on my knees (Help me Lord, I’m feeling low)

…they alternate voices, almost like passing the baton of honesty between them, and giving one another a breather in the role as cantor. Just when we envision lament as a solo and lonely cri di coeur, we are reminded that it can also rise from the combined effort of a band, a group of friends, or a community of faith.

I recently heard the Christian theologian Rev. Dr. Willie James Jennings talk about dismantling racism. He spoke of committing ourselves ‘to the great work of hope’. For Jennings, hope is not a sentiment. Rather, it is a discipline. The scriptures invite us to hope, even command us to hope. With disciplined marching orders like those, it is a gift when others can get us tapping our feet while doing it. And with the help of artists like Mtukudzi and Raitt, we might even find ourselves dancing.

Find out more about Bonnie Raitt at https://www.bonnieraitt.com/.

If you want to find out more about the life and work of Oliver Mtukudzi – try this Wikipedia page and see where it takes you – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oliver_Mtukudzi