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.
I first bought an album by Kathryn Williams in the year 2000. That is such a scary thought. It remains a firm favourite, and it also happens to have some excellent cello playing in it. What’s not to love.
Imagine my joy then, when it became clear that she had recently collaborated with Carol Ann Duffy – of the Poet Laureate fame – on a seasonal album.
I love the NEW in new music but I have an on-off relationship with the idea of New Year and the associated celebrations. I have tales of bad parties, endlessly depressing hours in bed wishing life away, fabulous fun with dear friends at Ten Pin bowling, Safari Suppers, family laughter, fireworks, sofa-weeping, and a now-infamous story of seeing in the New Year with a gang of people drinking cups of tea on a settee with no-one making any kind of effort! My view is, if you’re going to bother then bother, and if you’re not then don’t – but whatever you chose don’t do half of it. I wonder what you did a few days ago?
12 cold gold bells rang so we formed a circle with our hands
So when you’re with people – the enforced mad joy of Auld Lang Syne, kissing the cheeks of those you know (and maybe the odd one you don’t), and raising a glass to absent friends seems really important in terms of ritual. Something that’s been disrupted along with many other aspects of life these last 2 years. Step in then Kathryn and Carol:
I could wish you wealth
But I wish you health
Without you here I wouldn’t be myselfwhen
The brand new year arrives
Here you go
Mind how you go
a fresh start for everyone
In the midnight chorus of our united hearts
There is a little bit of something that brings pressure with New Year. The need to be a better version of yourself – when you have only just managed to hang on to the last one. The need to put stuff behind you that you haven’t even started to get to grips with. The need to be optimistic about the days and months to come, when frankly the pattern of the last lot has left little to be desired. BUT. There is something kind of refreshing about it too though. A ‘circle of life’ thing (yes I know but it’s not a track for today). A new perspective. A chance for new commitments and if you want to take it – a hope in it being different.
So maybe have your praying head on each day. Pray for good health for those you love, those you don’t, and those that try to help. Mind, body and soul. Oh and pray for wealth too – I don’t mean vast amounts – just enough to end the perpetual poverty faced by half the known world. Oh, and pray that people may be united in heart and not only interested in themselves. Oh, and if you need praying for then be assured there’s a ton of people out there doing it and you can rest in their energy and the love of God that comes with it.
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.
We’re taking a break this week so from Christmas 2020, here are the lovely people of the National Methodist Choir of Great Britain and The Children’s Choir with ‘Love Shone Down (I had a dream).’
One thing that I am thankful for over the last few years is the widening of access to television series and films from other countries. The BBC, Channel 4 and Netflix have introduced me to some brilliant work, particularly from Germany, Denmark and Norway. It’s not only the visual delights that have captured my heart either; it’s the soundtracks and title music too. The theme tunes to ‘The Bridge’ and ‘Ride Upon The Storm’ spring to mind, but it is to Norway that this song takes us.
I found Christmas 2020 (and the build-up to it) rather surreal and therefore escaped into quirky or comforting television viewing. This song comes from a series that merged quirky and comforting together – a Norwegian series called ‘Home for Christmas’ about a young woman who is sick of comments from the family about her relationship status, and so she embarks on a personal Advent challenge of finding a boyfriend by Christmas Eve. As Christmas gets nearer, the goal gets further away – resulting in bitter-sweet, frenetic and cringe-worthy moments.
In a sense, the series could be an allegory for how many of us approach Christmas. About how we get caught up in goals and objectives that are just unnecessary or unrealistic. About how we try to create a perfect image of what Christmas should look like. You know the image I mean – of a multi-generational, Christmas-jumpered, straight-teethed, healthy-looking bunch of people with abundant food and gifts enough for the street or apartment block that they live in. It’s an unachievable dream that some of us chase – this notion of a ‘perfect’ Christmas. What needless pressure we can put on ourselves at times eh?!
Well, this song tells us to ‘calm down’ – that’s what ‘falle til ro’ means in Norwegian. Calm down; settle down; have a rest. The message of the song is to stop and let Christmas give us the rest we need and the space to look back over the year – to see what we have accomplished and to recognise the struggles that we have got through as well.
så kanskje vil jula gi (so maybe Christmas will give)
ennå litt meire tid (a little more time)
tid til å sjå (time to see)
alt som vi streva med (everything we struggle with)
enn om vi trenge det (than if we need it)
sjå heile verda falle til ro (see the whole world calm down)
kanskje det e det som vi trenge no (maybe that’s what we need)
So I prescribe the following – take yourself to a space that helps you relax. It could be a space like a chair, a bench, a corner, a bed; or it could be a mental space where you’re baking, drawing, sewing or tinkering with a car. Pop the song on – and let Eva’s song wash over you and, if you need it, perhaps it might help you to calm down like it does for me.
Happy Christmas.
May this Christmas season bring you space to rest and relax at some stage. And may it bring you the space to reflect on where God’s love has touched your life in 2021.
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.
So often listening to music is all about context. The song of a band we have heard on a sunny festival day will always remind us of friends, laughter and warmth. The song played at the funeral of a loved one will also hold the power to take us back to the emptiness of mourning and missing a friend.
I write this as I sit on a train travelling home. I’m safe. I have a ticket. I am allowed to travel from work to my house which is the sanctuary that everyone’s home should be. As I left the office, I had another piece of cake I didn’t need! As so often in my life, I am aware of my privilege.
I spent so much of today thinking about death. The death of 27 human beings who were travelling in the hope of finding sanctuary. Unlike me, they didn’t have a ticket. The country they were travelling to wants to make it illegal for them to come. So much so that we pay a foreign government to make life hell for them before they even get here.
That extra piece of cake sits heavy in my stomach as I know that less than 30 miles from the coast of our country, asylum seekers are being denied basic human rights, including food. Humanitarian charities are being blocked from distributing food, clothes and tents in an attempt to stop people from coming to the UK.
We’ve gotta get out of this place
If it the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
‘Cause girl, there’s a better life for me and you
Calais is a hostile place for asylum seekers because of our Government’s policy and UK taxpayers’ money. It is a hostile place because the French authorities destroy tents, take possessions and disperse asylum seekers on a regular basis. Yet, this is nothing new for those who have travelled to Calais in the hope of sanctuary. To get this far they have experienced it all before!
What would drive you to make such a journey?
We’ve gotta get out of this place
If it the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
‘Cause girl, there’s a better life for me and you
It was reported last week that analysis using Home Office data requests under Freedom of Information laws has concluded that 61% of migrants who travel by boat are likely to be allowed to stay after claiming asylum. This is because they are coming from countries where war, persecution and human rights violations make it a dangerous place for some people to live.
And all we do is welcome people with persecution and human rights violation in the hope that the ‘problem’, as we see them, will go away.
I’m fairly sure that The Animals never thought this was a song about seeking asylum. As I said context is everything when listening to music, and as it played at the start of my journey home, the chorus took me right back to yesterday’s news – and to Lampedusa in October 2019.
The morning we arrived on the island, we heard that a boat carrying refugees had sunk a few miles off the coast. I attended the memorial service held for those who died. 14 numbered coffins, no names, all women – at least one who was pregnant (and these where just the bodies they had recovered). I understood none of the priest’s Italian words but I knew the grief and the guilt of the survivors’ tears and cries.
I cried out to God both in that service and yesterday – ‘You who commanded the waves to be still, why not for these your children?’
In the cold light of today, I know that this is nothing to do with God and everything to do with policy and politics. The policy of violence and oppression that forces so many to flee from their homes and the closed border policy of governments who are intent on driving down immigration statistics, rather than seeing the human being and human need.
We’ve gotta get out of this place
If it the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
‘Cause girl, there’s a better place for you and me
This isn’t explicitly a song about seeking asylum, it’s a song about the hope that life can be better. As such it is a song for those of us who vote; those of us who have access to our MP. The message is clear – God is urging us to get out of this place – this place of persecuting those who have become vulnerable, and with the urgency of it being the last thing we do. There is a better place for you and me, a place where those seeking asylum are handed a humanitarian visa and walk onto a big, safe ferry to be welcomed by communities across the UK…
The Friday Fix 