Dawn writes:

The festival season is coming to a close now and I was reintroduced to Keane’s live sets as they celebrated 20 years since their first album ‘Hope and Fears’ came out.

Also during this week we have marked World Suicide Prevention Day, a day for many with high emotions as they remember loved ones who have lost their lives to suicide.

The language and judgements around mental health are changing but glacially so, the term ‘commit’ is slowly changing to ‘lost’ as we recognise that is not a crime when a person feels they have no choice but to end their life.

BUT the wait time for adult and child mental health services are at an all time high. My own experience of waiting for CAMHS to help was over 3 years in which time I witnessed my child’s mental and physical health deteriorate and the accompanying feelings of helplessness were overwhelming. My own mental health crisis was thankfully picked up swiftly but only once I was in a crisis situation which could have been avoided if we were all more aware of the signs.

Unhelpful language and judgements have unfortunately been a part of Christian culture for many years, as the words of the song say:

They said you were a bright child
Never anything but joy behind your eyes
No sign of all the dark clouds
Spreading like volcanic dust
Over your blue skies
Now they’re looking for an answer
Where the rot set in
And set off the landslide

But it only makes it worse now
Like you’re a puzzle to be worked out

Poor mental health can appear for such a myriad of reasons ranging from trauma to chemical imbalances. Yet rather than listening and sitting alongside, we feel the need to ‘fix what appears to be broken’.

I’m a fixer by nature and I have to carefully balance this with a practice of non-judgemental listening, taking care not to assume, not to jump in with my own experiences and to use the Jesus model of solidarity.

My pastoral accompanist has a way of asking how I am and then following it up with “now how are you really?” – opening the door for a more honest conversation without any fear of condemnation. This can be rare to find a soul friend to have those encounters with, I am truly blessed to be surrounded by a such a caring bunch!

My prayer for all is that through supportive, honest relationships we can be transformed and mental health can something we can talk about and not leave people feeling like they are some sort of
broken toy.

Find out what Keane are up to at https://www.keanemusic.com/?lang=en

For further support and advice about suicide, there are lots of services and charities that offer help. Perhaps the best known is The Samaritans – https://www.samaritans.org/support-us/campaign/world-suicide-prevention-day/

This Sunday, at least two of our Friday Fixers braved the rain and mud in Preston at Radio 2 in the Park to watch some brilliant sets from a whole range of artists – three of whom (Shed Seven, Gabrielle and Manic Street Preachers) have had Friday Fixes written about one (or two) of their songs.

We’ve written 313 Friday Fixes so far – and yet there were artists at Radio 2 in the Park who’ve yet to have reflections on their songs – namely, Pet Shop Boys, Sting, Paul Heaton/Beautiful South/The Housemartins, Sister Sledge, Travis, Snow Patrol, Sugababes…

Maybe you have thoughts about songs from said artists? If you do, please send them to us at fridayfixmail@gmail.com.

If you don’t, but still have a Fix brewing – the inbox is waiting!

Gill writes:

There’s something about September isn’t there? It must be all those years of starting a new school year that we simply can’t shake off. Brand-new pencil cases. Shiny new school shoes. Freshly sharpened pencils. A new item of clothing such as trousers that don’t end halfway up your leg or a shirt that doesn’t attempt to cut your blood supply off at the neck, shoulder or wrists.

Yet years and years after leaving school, September still has that back to school feeling for many of us. After all, there does seem to be a gentle lull in our lives during July and August. A slightly slower pace perhaps? Fewer meetings. Quieter offices. People taking holidays.

And then September comes in like a wrecking ball. And if you’re anything like me, the lyrics of today’s Friday Fix may have made an appearance during this first week of September.

Back to life, back to reality
Back to the here and now, yeah

This song immediately takes me back to June 1989. I’d just spent two weeks in central Spain with my then boyfriend who, in his wisdom, had decided that it would be a good idea to split up on holiday before we returned. Travelling back together, just about managing to remain civil – that was fun. When I got back home, this song was hitting the top of the charts. It’s not my usual genre of music but I loved it because it perfectly summed up my feelings about returning to normality and coming to terms with being a ‘singleton’ again after a pretty intense three-year relationship with then boyfriend.

So here we are. Back to life and the reality of our ordinary lives. Diaries are filling up. Harvest, Halloween, Remembrance Day and dare I mention it, Christmas (I see you seasonal aisle in the supermarket), are all on the horizon. The laid-back summer is already becoming a distant memory.

So maybe now is the time, before it gets really frenetic, to take a moment or two and to listen to what our hearts, minds and souls are saying to us. Where are we being led this Autumn? Are we being nudged by the Divine? It might be worth checking before we’re swept away by the coming time of year!

Show me how, decide what you want from me
Tell me, maybe I could be there for you

Find out more about Soul II Soul at https://soul2soul.co.uk

Marc writes:

Firstly I think it’s great that this video was designed to help people, to blend the ideas within the song with social responsibility and the recognition that we need to look at those on the fringes of society with fresh eyes.

I came across this song a number of years ago and used it for a series of school assemblies about how we look at people, respect, and revisiting our first reaction to what we see.

Revisiting a relationship with God through Jesus is one way of relating that to faith (Last year I contributed some thoughts about Example’s “Kickstarts”. This potentially has similar vibes and reflections to what I had then). But I’m thinking about looking at different with fresh eyes this time around.

I’m currently reading Marcus Borg’s book “Reading the Bible Again For the First Time: Taking the Bible Seriously But Not Literally” (catchy title, right!?). I quite like how Borg’s style of writing simultaneously manages depth and simplicity, and I appreciate the challenges he brings to the way traditional things have historically been understood. He does it quite a lot with his books.

In this book, he’s wanting us to go back to the traditional understandings of the Bible, by naming and critiquing where some of our historical understandings have sent us off-track from the intended purposes and messages.

I’ve been familiar with the Bible for a while. I grew up with the stories and a culturally prescribed narrative of how to understand them. I was taught to read it and enter into those stories in a limited way that was dictated by the theology of the people who taught it to me. Down the years I’ve found myself with the privilege of a calling to share the Bible with others through assemblies, house groups, youth work contexts, writing stuff and preaching from the pulpit.

For a long time, the stories I retold were ones that I thought were “Biblical”. I took the messages I had been immersed in and regurgitated them in a contextual form. What I was less good at was revisiting the ACTUAL passages, stories and messages and uncovering what was meant.

In the last few years, I’ve been a lot more critical of what I’m reading and understanding, not purely in a negative way, but in a way that seeks understanding and realignment with the source material and the God it seeks to express and understanding of.

To quote the song: “Suddenly I’m in love with a stranger, I can’t believe she’s mine. And now all I see is you, with fresh eyes.”

It’s amazing how something that was once so familiar that huge chunks could be recited and recalled at will is now a stranger. It’s beautiful how there are fresh things to uncover when I look with fresh eyes. Those same stories that I thought I knew have become revelatory by stripping away my inherited lenses (including the lens of “complacency”) and picking up some simple tools for exploring and playing with scripture. The result is that I’m far more excited than I have been since the beginning.

Ultimately this song speaks to the season I’m in and entering, challenging me to unlearn, play and rediscover with the intention and promise of falling in love with it all again, and being equipped to share that with others.

I wonder what’s worth another look for you?

Which lenses do you need to strip away to see things afresh?

Find out more about Andy Grammer at https://andygrammer.com/

Jane writes:

In that moment when you hear a brand new piece of music that lands in you, it is like a giant celebration takes place in your heart and soul. These moments can be as a result of shared music between friends like or in these “modern days of algorithms” via Spotify. Other digital music providers are available!

I suppose I may have been about 7 seconds in when I decided I was going to like this track. It was v. new to me (not new in reality of course as it was written a few years ago) and just came out of nowhere when I’d been listening to a back catalogue of an artist I was going to see at a gig in a few weeks. Yes, people do do that  Well this person does. I’m less interested in a set list though, I like the surprise… anyway I digress, sorry.

A chord or two in and I was hooked. It has a languid quality and a heady lilt. In those moments life imitating art as it literally came out of the blue. It’s a snapshot of a love story of course and lots of its lyrical content held resonance for me. Not least the comments about clouds which I’m fascinated by. The metaphors filled with colour. The reality of emotional connection.

I suppose a deeper dig reveals the reality of the transience of relationships and how we take for granted the joyous moments we live in only for them to be gone in a second, an hour or a day. The way we make assumptions about what is going on only to find it is not necessarily real. The way that things seem that they will last forever just as they are – or at least a very long time – only to see them disappear in a flash.

The way certainty gives way to a whole different way of navigating what’s happening. How we maintain connections with people and even God is often shrouded in mystery when no two situations are alike. How then do we grab onto what comes to us as a gift out of the blue and let go of that thing that disappears in the same way? How hard do we fight? How little resistance do we offer? Are we even prepared to see it when it’s right in front of us? Do we pay enough attention to the things, people and spiritual moments that matter?

This Friday then, why not pause a moment and try to nail the answers to some of those questions. Why not look for what is staring you in the face even if it appeared “out of the blue”. Oooooo and maybe start a playlist for random new music you’ve picked up and then share your thoughts here as part of the Friday Fix.

You can find out more about Katie here https://www.katiepruitt.com/

Every now and then, we have a different reflection on a song we’ve had previously so here’s Mandy’s thoughts on ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’

Mandy writes:

In the last few weeks, the UK news has been filled with images and sounds of violent protest and criminal damage, following the deaths of three young girls who were attacked at a dance workshop in Southport.

Misinformation and misplaced anger led to a storm of violent protest, mostly orchestrated by the far right. There were attacks on hotels housing refugees and on the police as they tried to keep order. Many rioters were arrested and some have already been jailed for these attacks. We are told that more arrests will follow.

This first wave of violence was countered days later by streets filled by peaceful protesters, with one or two arrests, but mainly populated by different and much larger crowds with a more positive message – we are stronger together, we are enriched living side by side, refugees are welcome and we choose to live in peace.

There has been a great deal of taking sides. A sense of ‘us and them’, whether that be protesters and counter-protesters, rioters and police, the far right and refugees/asylum seekers. These divisions have not disappeared, even though our streets now appear to be calmer.

Why does this song – Don’t Dream It’s Over – speak so deeply into our current times? It’s been covered by numerous artists, from Miley Cyrus and Ariana Grande to Bono, who sang it regularly during U2’s recent residency in Las Vegas, on one occasion dedicating it to the late Russian dissident Alexei Navalny.

During an interview with SPIN earlier this year, Neil Finn reflected on how he wrote the song in just one day. He said: “I was contemplating the end of things: relationships and the challenges that you face. It’s an exhortation to myself – and to anyone who’s going through that – to not think it’s the end, to keep on pushing, keep on believing. It’s a song of hope, I think.”

Watching footage of the funeral for one of the young girls in Southport, I could not imagine what her family have been going through. I could only reflect on my own range of emotions following the attacks and the rioting and connect them with the song – from feeling helpless and angry (“try to catch the deluge in a paper cup”) to resignation and even avoidance (“in the paper today, tales of war and of waste, but you turn right over to the TV page”)

For me, the power of Don’t Dream It’s Over is the fact that it reflects the human condition in a few short verses. There is melancholy, there is resignation, there is that sense of trying to doggedly carry on with life despite all the world throws at you (“there’s a battle ahead, many battles are lost”) and the ordinary challenges that grind us down (“now I’m towing my car, there’s a hole in the roof, my possessions are causing me suspicion, but there’s no proof”)

But there is also an emerging strand of hope. Battles are fought and lost, but there are fellow travellers along the way to provide encouragement (“but you’ll never see the end of the road while you’re travelling with me”) And ultimately, the (ridiculously catchy) and uplifting chorus:

“Hey now, hey now, don’t dream it’s over
Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in
They come, they come, to build a wall between us
You know they won’t win.”

When division threatens our streets and communities, one song is not going to solve everything. The hard work of listening and rebuilding trust has to be done alongside the protests and counter-protests. The role of social media cannot be underestimated, alongside the responsibilities of those who own the sites.

Yet Don’t Dream It’s Over works, simply because it points to hope – that those who seek to cause division shouldn’t and cannot win. And that hope comes through discovering how we connect with one another, dreaming of a better world, dreaming of justice and truth, dreaming that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be OK.

Full SPIN interview: https://www.spin.com/2024/05/neil-finn-on-the-beautiful-melancholy-of-1986s-unstoppable-hit-dont-dream-its-over/

The fantastic live version at Glastonbury 2022:

Find out more about Crowded House at https://www.crowdedhouse.com/

A slightly different ‘Fix’ this week as David offers thoughts on an album

David writes:

An artistic collaboration is a complex enterprise. Think visiting organist. Or guest choir. Or in the past month, Cypress Hill joining the London Symphony Orchestra. Getting unlikely musical partners on stage together requires imagination, preparation, flexibility, and much negotiation. Which may be why I still turn the volume up on a thirty-year old album.

I like that a Mali-USA collaboration began with a gift. “Having long treasured each other’s recordings Ali Farka Toure and Ry Cooder first met in London in the summer of ’92. Their connection was immediate and the bond was secured when Toure presented Cooder with his prized possession – his first instrument, a little one-string lute called a n’jurkel. They agreed to try something together one day”.

That day came a year later when they sat down in a studio in Los Angeles and recorded ten songs that became the album ‘Talking Timbuktu’. Farka Toure observed the English title’s play on words: “For some people, when you say ‘Timbuktu’ it is like the end of the world, but that is not true. I am from Timbuktu, and I can tell you we are right at the heart of the world’. His soaring vocals, backed by electric guitar and calabash, banjo and mbira, congas and tambouras, all make the foreign seem less foreign, the far-off much closer.

But oh, to be a fly on the wall during those recording sessions! How were the pieces chosen? Who nodded to whom to take the lead? Who taught? Who learned? Who learned a new rhythm? Who knew enough to go piano when someone else went forte? I serve in a setting of ministry where every day presents some type of cultural exchange across boundaries. Some are navigated adeptly. Others sound more like clashes. The real test of the Church of Jesus born at Pentecost was in the ‘ordinary time’ which followed. In fact, the New Testament is the story of one tentative collaboration after another, with mixed result but lasting results. Dunamis, as I understand the word, can be both holy power… and dynamite.

Playing another person’s music is a political act. It can be perceived as an act of conciliation. It can be also be received as an aggressive intrusion. There is a fine line — in church and in music — between a good-will gesture and cultural appropriation. Decades after the Graceland album, Paul Simon and Dali Tambo can still debate the issues of artistic freedom, political boycotts and whose rules we follow.

‘Reverend, we really like it when you wear the Ghanaian stole in worship,’ says one church member. Another flicks the same liturgical garment with a playful smile: ‘You’re a white guy. Why are you wearing one of our stoles?’ A fine line, indeed.

One wise friend told me, ‘The line between cultural appropriation and a conciliatory act always has to be negotiated. If there is no prior relationship, the potential for miscommunication is great. But where there is some level of trust already established, that is the place to negotiate that line, again and again.’

…Which makes me appreciate Ali and Ry’s mutual project even more. Although they seemed to have recorded on American territory, the songs are all from Mali (in four different languages, the liner notes tell us). Most riffs sound West African, while an occasional baseline sound more Southern R&B. The leadership team of this musical community looks to be numerically and culturally balanced. Presumably, some multilingual ambassadors of reconciliation did their work on headsets. I envision lots of deferential nods, dramatic motions, and repeated sign-language. But the tone is set by the two men on the album cover – seated face to face, instruments in hand, both smiling. (God may just save the world, one Christian theologian once wrote, through unlikely friendships). And the result of this musical friendship is an ancient blending of sound, producing a whole new kind of song.

Of the making of ‘Talking Timbuktu,’ one observer wrote, ‘…language was merely a difference, not a barrier. That indefinable spark which ignites a special session was lit and recording was completed in three days’.

With an initial gift, a holy encounter, ‘three days’ and a little light, a lot can happen.

You can find out more about the album and artists at https://worldcircuit.co.uk/

Tom writes:

Artificial intelligence is major headline news nowadays. Recent leaps forward in its abilities mean that, as ever, we seem to have jumped from reflections on AI being the role of Science Fiction writers and futurists to anybody and everybody. Within the conversation there are many positives and negatives discussed – from the ways in which AI can make life-saving decisions at a speed unavailable to the human mind, to the ways in which those building AI models seem to make use of intellectual property they may not have rights to. We also regularly note that AI still has significant imperfections (such as the ending of a pilot programme using AI in ordering processes at McDonald’s after numerous mistakes, such ice-cream topped with vast quantities of bacon, went viral), as well as being aware that much of what we use AI for is pretty banal (for example, the software I’m writing this on uses AI to suggest words I might write before I’ve finished writing them).

Of course, some of these conversations are shaped by the art of science-fiction, which has been reflecting on artificial and robotic intelligence for almost as long as its existed as a genre – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is about many things, but it’s certainly arguable that one of its subjects is about the kind of intelligence we might consider the eponymous doctor’s creation has. Much more recently, artificial intelligence has been at the heart of stories such as 2001: A Space Odyssey, Terminator, A.I. (of course), the Matrix series, and many more. It is noticeable that in much of the reflection that sci-fi has created around this theme, it is the problems that have been highlighted – which is hardly surprising, given that one of the keys to successful story telling is conflict.

So, we have HAL 9000, the murderous supercomputer on Discovery One in 2001, the rise of Skynet in the Terminator films, and even in the fantastical setting of my hobby, Warhammer 40,000, the rise and then destruction of artificial intelligence is part of the story behind the stagnation of technology so far into the future.

Amongst philosophers and theologians, however, the questions asked tend to be more around the independence of intelligence. When, we might ask, does artificial intelligence become a person? Can it only be a person if it has a body (therefore entering the realm of robotic intelligence)? If it is not a body but the level of rational thought that is necessary, then what is it that defines that level – the ability to play and create, or the ability to have and express emotions? And which emotions are the key ones? Clearly, from what I write above, what we fear is an artificial intelligence that can experience existential fear and hate – the emotions needed in order to see humanity as an enemy that needs to be fought and conquered.

In Kasabian’s song, however, we find a different reflection on artificial intelligence. It is, without doubt, a sceptical piece of art, questioning the validity of AI beyond being machine thinking. Yet it approaches it from the direction not of hate, but of love. The singer and their object are humans, in love with one another, and wanting to spend time together (the theme of a very many pop songs in history), but the comparison is with AI. The song seems to be a critique of both internet dating, where websites match people based on algorithms rather than interpersonal chemistry, and also AI itself, suggesting that AI cannot love – at least, not like humans can.

Which, to me, raises the interesting question – what if it could? Is the resolution of the question around when AI moves beyond the artificial to the personal to be found in whether or not it experiences and lives out the emotion of love? And if it does, then what will our response be? Not just in terms of secular society, but also theology – can a computer-based intelligence that can clearly express love be seen as an image of the divine, can it, should it, be given Baptism and Communion, might it be able to be a Member of the Methodist Church?

In some ways, all of this is just rambling, from the basis of one fairly short yet reasonably catchy pop-rock song. Yet, as the developments in AI continue, they’re questions we need to be asking. Thankfully, I know some people out there are. Maybe it’s time more of us joined them – if we can just escape the algorithms that ensure what we get to see are cute cats, popular products, and the latest memes…

You can find out more about Kasabian at https://www.kasabian.co.uk/

Marc writes:

The question I have is this:

Will the religious language help others to understand what Tom’s getting at, or will what Tom is implying help others understand the religious language we use?

This is the latest (at time of writing!) release off the upcoming album titled “I Am”… Again, I note the reaction I have to the album title, but what does it mean to Tom, and what does it mean to others?

It’s not the first time I’ve heard him singing about grace, but there is so much in this song that shouts at me because of the church culture I’m immersed in, including:

“I’m on my knees at your altar”

“You’re the kind of grace that you can’t replace”

“Better men have died for love like you”

“Erase my sins, my communion, Till death do us part, it’s a union”

And the Methodist in me leaps at the reference “You’re my love divine”

And then there’s the chorus:

“Your love is spiritual

When you hold me close

Only heaven knows

Your touch is biblical

Everywhere I go

You’re my holy ghost”

I’d love to sit round a firepit with a glass of something and hear where his knowledge of the language he uses comes from and what his experience entails. It feels to me like there is a story and a numinous journey that has led to lyrics like this…

But that’s because he’s speaking my language, and my experience is that the words he sings point to the Divine…

But what happens if someone unfamiliar with the language and symbolism of this beautiful song recognises the notion of an ever-present love, a clean slate and the peace of feeling held? How will we help them not merely to assimilate the language we are familiar with, but to have their own numinous encounter with the divine who offers the same?

I guess what I’m rambling my way through is the fact that the language is helpful to me because it’s familiar, and it is the sort of language I use in church. But is that language as helpful to others? What do they hear? Could we use different words?

Either way, as Tom said on his X tweet announcing the release: “Go listen to it and belt it out”…

… And I’d dare to add “Maybe even in worship.”

——

LYRICS:

I’m on my knees at your alter

When I bleed, give me shelter

You’re my evergreen

You’re my world unseen

My heart it beats to your rhythm

It’s not what you take, it’s what you’re given’

You’re the kind of grace

That you can’t replace

I watched you turn the skies from grey to blue

Better men have died for love like you

Your love is spiritual

When you hold me close

Only heaven knows

Your touch is biblical

Everywhere I go

You’re my holy ghost

I swear I’ve known you for centuries

You’re heaven-sent, how you save me

In our final hour

Call on higher power

Erase my sins, my communion

Till death do us part, it’s a union

A guiding light

You’re my love divine

I watched you turn the skies from grey to blue

Better men have died for love like you

Your love is spiritual

When you hold me close

Only heaven knows

Your touch is biblical

Everywhere I go

You’re my holy ghost

Find out more about Tom Walker at https://www.iamtomwalker.com/