It’ll be three years in May when our first Friday Fix dropped on the blog. Since then, our following has slowly grown, more comments have been shared and contributors to the blog have come from further afield.
If you’ve been following for a while and have a popular song that you could share a reflection about, we’d love to hear from you. Is there a song from a special moment? A tune that pulls at your heart strings? A vibe that captured a particular feeling? Just jot down how that song makes you feel or what it reminds you of – and send it to Gill at thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk. She’ll do what’s needed to turn it into a Friday Fix.
In the meantime, here’s a little infogram for those of you who like statistics…
The first time that I heard Luke Sital Singh was from quite a distance. In fact, his set started just as we began walking our son (aged 9 at the time) back to our tent at Greenbelt (being conscientious parents, we’d opted for a late-night the next night as Sinead O’Connor was headlining then).
Luke’s music echoed through the trees and across the camping fields, and I remember thinking “I need to listen to this guy’s music when I get home.” Of course, I got home and didn’t really think much more about Luke Sital Singh and his music. That’s until Spotify decided a couple of years ago that I needed to hear his music again. Algorithms are a blessing sometimes I guess!
I’ve been playing this song a lot lately. It helps me to feel grounded. It reminds me that you’re meant to feel life. We can’t know for sure but the first few weeks of human life must be an incredibly painful and shocking time really. Coming from a cocooned, warm world into a bright, cold, noisy place. That’s where the opening lines take me – to that moment of birth; that moment when we gasp our first breath –
I can taste it in my mouth I am hanging upside down All the faces gathered round To wait and see, to breath relief To call my name for the first time
It feels like life is rather surreal at the moment. We had COP26 and it’s looking like it was all ‘blah, blah, blah.’ after all. We’ve had a year without Trump in the White House but US politics still seems to be on fragile ground. Lies, deceit, corruption, abuse of power and trust seem to be our daily diet in the UK, all wrapped up in relentless reporting of Covid statistics and stories.
I really connect with the visceral sense of both the music and lyrics of this song. It reminds us what life is all about. We hurt, we lie, we bleed, we breathe. We’re organic beings, not mechanical systems. We’re unpredictable, creative, envious, empathic, disgusted, in love, furious, entranced and so on, and so on.
I can face it just about I’d rather hurt than live without But I will rage and scream and shout A love, a life, it’s dark and bright It’s beautiful and it’s alright
And there is something within us that keeps us going and pulls us through. A belief and knowledge that nothing lasts forever. That tomorrow is a new day bringing hope, and with it is the potential for us to change. That’s not to say that we should gloss things over because hope is on the horizon, but because hope is on the horizon, we can own up to and handle our very human thoughts and feelings.
Everyone is yearning for a reason for a cause Somewhere deep inside we’re holding on for dear life
So whatever you are feeling on this Friday in January, you are an amazing human creation that was born to live and to feel life. And you are loved. So cry your eyes out, fill your lungs up. We all lie, we all hurt and nothing stays the same.
Streaming royalties aren’t huge amounts so if you enjoy any songs in particular, we’d recommend you buy the album (or singles) of the musicians whose work you are enjoying.
I have been imbibing the Friday Fix for a year or more now, but I’ve never been able to pinpoint a song that I could share. There are sooooo many! However, I remembered a song that always inexplicably renders my soul.
Specifically Nina Simone’s recording of ‘Feeling Good.’ Nina recorded the song in 1965 and it’s subsequently been covered by Muse, Michael Bublé, and many others.
I first ‘really’ heard it played on a record player as a student in Crewe in the 1990s. I will never forget it filling the house – everything stopped! I think it’s the ‘massive’ background musical composition (it’s simple, but just so BIG!), together with Nina Simone’s performance that is quite phenomenal.
If I may, I would like to suggest listening to music outside of our world’s clutter, and a way that I have found to do this is through BBC Radio 3 in the morning.
Combine music such as Feeling Good with a sunrise, a river, wildlife, a friendly ‘good morning!’ fresh air, cardiovascular exercise, and you have a hint towards life in all its fullness.
Breeze driftin’ on by,
you know how I feel
It’s a new dawn,
it’s a new day…
In years past, I would never have predicted that I might habitually listen to Radio 3! But, I have to admit, over recent years, my morning routine has seen me listening to (fellow Cornishman) Petroc Trelawny’s selections on ‘Breakfast‘ on BBC Radio 3.
During my morning commute, just as the day starts, it occasionally (and surprisingly often) seems possible to glimpse something ‘true’, before the business of the day kicks in; before the popular noise takes over.
River running free…
Blossom on the tree…
As I cycle my 45 mins to work, occasionally, endorphins cause the abstract combination of musical compositions accompanying the fresh air, wildlife, seasons, and the things and people I meet, to become more than the sum of their parts.
You know how I feel…
I know very little about the history of music, composers, or the political or social relevance of specific music creations. I can imagine for the creators, there is a lot of loaded significance behind, underneath, and inside many compositions. Perhaps I might dig deeper at some point. But it’s the raw essence of some music that I find wonderfully powerful.
I have heard it suggested that a definition of ‘classical’ music… is that it transcends cultural, as well as generational barriers… music that’s created through sincere devotion, not through selfish desire, but rather by something greater, which exists beyond time, history or culture. Golly gosh! When you hear a musicologist say “it’s a ravishingly beautiful piece of music … and we can’t quite understand why…” that’s the kind of thing that makes music special.
What has struck me over the last few years is the power of music to affect us.
This old world, is a new world, and a bold world…
Freedom is mine… (and yours)
I truly hope you can occasionally find a way to truly feel good.
It doesn’t go as planned. It seems ok and then something comes out of left-field to get you and disrupt everything. People you love die, and those you care about who remain are struggling still. I suppose it’s been like that forever but recently we’ve seen a global version of what we already know to be true.
Here she is then – Janis Ian – one of my favorite go-to artists, stating the obvious about life.
She wrote it at a time when her own life was in chaos, having lost all the key things that mattered to her. Her financial security. Her marriage. Her health. And on top then she was aware that her whole life seemed to have been like living through a drought. Add in a pandemic for good measure and the song resonates more than ever.
The sense of loss is apparent and the thinking that “even God may have turned his back” sums up how hard it feels. No hope in sight.
Yet as people of faith we might have a way to see it differently. Endurance is a feature in lots of biblical stories. Throughout the Old and New testaments, people have had to live with courage, persistence, and hope in the toughest of times. Walking in wildernesses. Living in exile. Coping with disease and illness. War. Famine. Rejection. Loss. The themes mirror the way of the human condition, and yet the stories that go with them – finding the promised land. Restoration. Healing. Peace. Unconditional acceptance. Resurrection. All play a part too and God is in it all.
I love the simplicity of this version of this song. No fuss. No embellishment. Just a simple spare sound and the realization that we can make it. We have endured before and we can endure again now. Our resilience is built on the human experience and the knowledge that endurance is part of the fully-rounded life we all lead. Life in all its measure. Every element in abundance. Joy and Pain. Our ability to cope (or not). Our onward journey accompanied by the God of love we know to be ever at our side.
We’ve had some fabulous contributions this year from new faces to the blog, and now we’re in need of some crackers to start rounding the year off with.
As Madonna rightly sings ‘music can be such a revelation‘ so if you have a song that you would like to reveal to us, we’d love to hear from you.
Just send (thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk) us your thoughts on a popular song (300-600 words is usual) and we’ll do the rest.
Karine Polwart’s cover of Deacon Blue’s Dignity has kept me company throughout the pandemic. I love the stripped-back simplicity and the clarity of the vocals.
For a while in lockdown the song was a source of hope – an old friend reminding me to trust there would be a day when travel and freedom would be possible again. In the meantime, it helped me take comfort in the familiarity of the small coastal town where I live. “There’s a man I meet, walks up our street, he’s a worker for the Council, has been 20 years” …Yes. Yes there is. Even at the height of lockdown, I would pass council workers day-by-day on the High Street and we’d smile and say hello as we went about our business. I have been here 4 years, but some of them have been here all their lives, quietly keeping things running, and being paid a pittance for the privilege.
And now, in the last few weeks, as furlough support and now the uplift in Universal Credit have been scrapped, this song has been reframed for me into something else: a ballad of lament and a reflection on injustice that ignites a flame of anger in me.
I heard on the news today that the reduction in Universal Credit is the biggest effective cut ever imposed, reducing some people’s income by 10% in the midst of massive rises in fuel costs, and at the onset of winter. I know people, and I bet you do too, whose already tight budgets will be forced into the red by this change. It will rob people of dignity.
My Christian faith teaches me to pursue a society where God-given dignity is nurtured in all people. It’s not complicated, really. We’re all Jock Tamson’s bairns, created in the Divine Image. In ancient times, the scriptures taught that the widow, the orphan and the stranger were to be accorded special care because of their vulnerability. We are charged with the imperative to look after for those who are most in need. When we fail, this the prophets call us repentance on pain of disaster. Justice, we are told, will roll like a river and righteousness like a mighty stream (Amos 5:4).
In my mind’s eye, Bogie wraps his sandwiches, in that same old bread-bag day by day, and walks up the street to begin his work. It’s cold and wet, but he trusts that with perseverance and saving he can put a little money by each week. It may be hard graft, but slowly he can build towards a dream for the future.
Hope and dignity go hand in hand, and this week the ship called Dignity sailed further away from reach for many people.
As I listen to this song again today, I think about home. I think about faith. I think about work. I think how good it would be, to be here some day with everyone on a ship called Dignity.
Hope must not be allowed to die. I hear a prophetic voice cry “injustice” and I resolve to stand against it.
We’re running low on Friday Fix reflections. Following the recent bleak IPCC Report and the upcoming COP26 Gathering, we wondered if songs about change and/or the environment might prompt some ideas for contributions. Perhaps a season of ‘protest’ songs might be in order?
Anyhow – have a think and a shuffle through your record collection (physical or mental). Gill would love to receive a few reflections at thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk. As always, don’t worry about format, editing and links to videos – we can do all of that.
Looking forward to an influx of songs in the next couple of weeks!
On March 15 2018 I was (as I said in my Facebook post at the time) playing out late on a school night. Along with my dad (the main source of my musical education), my sister and my brother (who’d been roped in last minute because my mum was ill) I had the immense joy of seeing the legend Joan Baez in concert at the Birmingham Symphony Hall.
What I was looking forward to the most was seeing this amazing woman sing ‘Diamonds and Rust’ live and, honestly, she didn’t disappoint in her delivery of that classic. But, as much as I love that song, it ended up not being my main memory of the night.
A few weeks before the concert took place, on February 14, a gunman had opened fire at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, killing 17 peopleand injuring 17 others. This terrible, tragic event became the most deadly high school shooting in American history (how sad that there is even a list), surpassing Columbine (1999) in its number of victims. It came at a time of increased support for gun control (following other mass shootings in 2017) and it prompted several Parkland students to start the #NeverAgain movement, advocating for tighter regulations that prevent gun violence.
In response to all this, Joan Baez sang the Bob Dylan song ‘The Times They Are A-Changing’ and dedicated it to those brave students, taking a stand against the NRA and turning their grief into action. I remember turning to my brother (who had been a very reluctant stand-in to take the spare ticket) and seeing tears streaming down his face, tears that mirrored my own as I reached out and took his hand.
As we were reeling from the emotional impact of Dylan’s ever-relevant lyrics, Baez moved into singing the beautiful song that this post is actually about. Written by Zoe Mulford, ‘The President Sang Amazing Grace’ tells the story of the 2015 attack on the Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, which claimed the lives of nine of the church-goers. The title refers to the reaction of then President, Barrack Obama, when he attended the memorial service for the victims:
But no words could say what must be said For all the living and the dead So on that day and in that place The President sang Amazing Grace The President sang Amazing Grace
As Joan Baez sang this beautiful song, I swear the whole audience held its breath. It felt like a profoundly spiritual moment – a shared acknowledgement that some things are just too awful to comprehend, some feelings too big to articulate. I’m not ashamed to say that, at this point, my brother and I were practically clinging to one another and sobbing like babies.
This song has returned to me recently as I’ve been watching the news – in particular (but not only) the worrying events in Afghanistan, the tragic shooting that occurred in Plymouth and the aftermath of the awful earthquake in Haiti. I’ve watched the video, with some beautiful, hand-drawn animations that serve the song well, a number of times. The lyrics tell us that sometimes all we can do is share our pain with God, knowing that God is with us, that God not only understands but shares our grief and cries with us. We can lean on God and feel ourselves held.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4
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