Jane writes:

Last month saw the 50^th anniversary of the release of the album ‘Blue’ by Joni Mitchell.

It’s not a fact I’m keen to hear, as even though I was only 7 when it was released, it still makes me feel really old.  ‘Blue’ was an album I came to quite late I suppose, but once it was in my life it was really hard to imagine it to be otherwise.  I have a deep affection for it and often turn to it when things aren’t all they should be.  It’s like a comfort blanket or a reassuring arm around the shoulder. It’s a place to go to when you need to dig deep and cry your way through stuff. It’s familiar and safe, and every chord or note has something to say that’s distinctive and about life. It’s haunting and brave. It’s a place of solace. It’s bright. It’s occasionally Christmassy. It’s got nerve.

It’s an album that charts a mountain of real life incidents for the writer. Love affairs ending, struggling and new ones starting. Grappling with addiction. Pregnancy and adoption. Lament and loss. Joy and discovery. Temper overflowing. Straight speaking. All manner of life is here.

With the Friday Fix we rarely talk about an album’s worth of songs but its really hard to separate them from each other in this case as they represent the whole of something. A time of life. A lifetime in fact.

Into the midst of all this then comes the title track, ‘Blue’. Its opening line sums up for me everything about the love of music and how it cuts to the soul

Songs are like tattoos you know….

This song is one of those that I really have no idea what it’s about. A person masquerading as Blue. A feeling of depression. A realisation that you go over the same ground and still can’t get to escape the grasp of addiction maybe, or a need for freedom.  The complexity of love. A gift for someone that is troubled or precious or needing to hear something. An offering. It’s rare for me to say this but in a way it doesn’t matter because it’s under your skin. It becomes a part of you this kind of music, and you can’t shake it, or explain it. It’s essentially inked into you.

I’ve been a person of faith for a good while now, and I recognise in me an inability to put my finger on why exactly. I am not a conversion experience kind of person. I’m more a dawning realisation kind of girl, and when asked to explain why I people should believe in God the only response I could offer – and it may be a bit weak – is that my life was better with a sense of God in it than it was without. It matters.  Don’t mis-hear me. I’m not saying easy. I’m not saying simple or truly blessed. I’m not even saying under control. I’m just saying faith is part of me and I can’t shake it or explain it, but it’s essentially inked into me like this song.

Explanation is not always what you need, but assurance of something that sits deep in the soul. Music. Faith. Whatever it is you can go back and find solace in what you’ve grown to be sure of. To rely on what is deep within you. Under the surface. Indelibly written on you.

You can find out more about Joni Mitchell (and the album) here  https://jonimitchell.com/music/album.cfm?id=5

Michael writes:

I recently had the joyful experience of driving down to Basingstoke. To refer to such an occasion as ‘joyful’ might seem odd, even sarcastic. After all, there’s really nothing particularly special about the place (unless you count the excessive number of roundabouts). But I grew up there and for 24 years it was where I called home. So it remains one of my all-time-favourite places to be.

The last stretch of my journey always takes me a long a winding country stretch of the A33. Without fail in recent years, whenever I’ve found myself on this road, two things have happened: first, I’ve begun uncontrollably smiling. Second, Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran has come into my head.

When you think about the lyrics to that song, its not hard to see why:

I’m on my way,

Driving at 90* down those country lanes

Singing to Tiny Dancer

And I miss the way you make me feel – it’s real

When we watched the sunset over the castle on the hill.

*(No speed limits were actually broken in the making of this blog post)

For many, this song has become an anthem of adolescent nostalgia. It reminisces about Ed’s life growing up, and some of the times, events, places and people that shaped him into who he is today. In a particularly poignant final verse he reflects on where his childhood friends are now.

One friend left to sell clothes

One works down by the coast

One had two kids, but lives alone

One’s brother overdosed

One’s already on his second wife

One’s just barely getting by, but

These people raised me

And I can’t wait to go home

We only get a hint at the stories of each, and each hint contains a level of sadness. I find the words hugely relatable: we’ve all experienced the sadness of losing friends as they move away, or watching their lives not quite turn out in the way we’d imagined. Many of us have grieved with friends, or had to watch from afar as they’ve struggled. But even if its been years since we’ve even seen or heard from those who were once our childhood nearest and dearest, there are always certain songs, certain foods, smells or activities, and certain places that conjure deep memories and shine a light on the eternal, inescapable connection we still have, due to our role in each other’s formation.

This song engages with a deep theological truth. Descartes was wrong: its not our thinking that makes us us; rather, we relate therefore we are. We are designed as fundamentally communal creatures. We cannot help but relate. And we are who we are because of those we have related to.

Ed highlights that, we have the profound, unavoidable ability to nurture one another, to raise and shape and form one another, to develop and damage one another, to change and even twist one another. Whether we realise it or not, we are always raising those in our lives: sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.

I’m grateful that my story is similar to the one Ed describes here. At times, I look back on my childhood and cringe. It was filled with many mistakes, embarrassing and awkward situations and a decent dollop of physical and emotional pain. Yet, there are also many happy, standout moments. Most significantly of all, I was blessed to have some amazing people around me who despite their own adolescent ignorance, naivety and messiness, helped raised me through it all and significantly contributed to who I am today. I’m fortunate that some of those people even remain in Basingstoke, and continue to hold a significant place in my life.

That’s why this song and the A33 never fail to make me smile. Despite both the good and the bad memories that place holds and all that has happened to me and my friends in the years since I moved away, it’s very much still a home for me that I can never wait to go to.

Find out what Ed Sheeran is up to at the moment at https://www.edsheeran.com

David writes:

For me there is no place for a cover version that just seeks to mimic the original – it is a dull reflection.  Artists should bring their own creativity and personality to a song, to produce a version that gives us a fresh insight into the song. 

I love the acoustic guitar.  It is an orchestra in one instrument.  Don’t get me wrong the power of an overdriven riff emanating from a Stat for Les Paul is hard to beat! Yet, it is the sweet resonance of an acoustic chord being struck, or intricate, staccato, finger picking that never ceases to delight me!  All those notes bouncing around the wooden sound box of an acoustic guitar, notes and harmonies interacting with themselves in a myriad of ways, is a constant source of joy. 

Having confessed these things, the album ‘Where Does it Go’ by Denise Johnson was always going to demand my attention. Add into the mix of reimagined covers and original songs on acoustic guitar her beautiful, powerful and pure voice and I had an instant new favourite album! 

Paul writes in his letter to the Corinthians that – when he grew up he gave up childish things (I Cor. 13:11) yet, Jesus contends that – it is to those such as children that the kingdom belongs (Matt 19:14)!  Who is right Paul or Jesus?  

I can’t help but read 1 Cor. 13 and think that Paul is describing the controlled adult version of love. A love that is measured in its patience and kindness, in its modest, self-giving politeness!  A love that has much to commend it. Is it the love of the kingdom?  Are we called to a live a life of measured love by Jesus?  Is it how a child expresses love? 

A child is not patient and polite when they want something – they want it now. They can be arrogant and boastful and rude as they insist on what they want because they want it so much.  A baby screaming is an irritable sound that demands attention so they can get what they need. How many children do what we consider to be wrong, or lie, because they are so intent on what they crave?  

It’s a challenge to think that the kingdom of heaven belongs to people with such attitude… but isn’t that what Jesus implies! 

We see and understand childhood as the growth to maturity, learning to conform and take our part in the world.  The expectation is we conform to the expectations of society and take our place.  If we are honest don’t we lose so much? Often the excitement, expectation and naïve idealism is left behind with our childish self as we take on the dull duty of adulthood.  

Have you ever caught yourself in the shade of the morning sun being brought close to the childhood you have lost? 

Listening to this cover of True Faith I was not only struck by what we, as individuals lose growing up but also what the Church has lost as it has become established.  The church has left behind childish ways and  

too often become patient, patient of racism and racists in our church and in society,  

too often we have been kind to those who abuse power,  

too often we have failed to be envious of the way of the kingdom settling for the way of the world, 

too often we don’t boast about the Way of Jesus,  

too often we are not arrogant in our insistence of the Truth of Jesus, 

too often we are not rude in our condemnation of those who refuse to live the Life of Jesus,  

too often we are not irritated by violence in our world, 

too often we don’t resent our planet being destroyed,  

too often we won’t countenance wrongdoing even if it is for the greater good. 

Adult disciples hide in the kingdom and repeat the mantra ‘but what can we do?’ instead of revealing in the kingdom as children who will do anything for what they desire. 

‘I fear it has left us standing in a world that is so demanding and our valued destiny comes to nothing’ 

‘But what if we had the child like impatience to catch a glimpse of the morning sun – the morning sun of the resurrection… to feel so extraordinary, that somethings got a hold of us. Imagine the church feeling that’s it’s in motion, a sudden sense of liberty…’ 

Of course, the adult established church has and does do some good in its patient, kind, truthful way. The real question though is how much more could we do if we loved in an impatient, boastful and arrogant way? What if we didn’t bear and endure all kinds of wrong against individuals, sections of society or our world? What if we grasped that sudden sense of liberty… 

Denise Johnson died in July last year and the Album ‘Where Does it Go’ was released posthumously. 

Nigel writes:

For various reasons, life has been quite challenging of late. In fact, it’s been really, really, really stressful. In terms of scale of challenge, it’s been one of the three or four most stressful times in a life that includes divorce and cancer. It’s felt a bit like a hurricane has been raging for several weeks and only now has any sense of calm and stillness settled.

Luke Combs is one of Country Music’s biggest singer-songwriter stars. Amazingly, he’s just had his tenth consecutive Number One hit. One of my favourite songs of his talks about ‘hurricanes’ (I’m still amazed at the internet – the official video has had 245 million views!). His take on the subject is that when you meet someone, it can be like a hurricane impacting on you.

The chorus goes:

The moon went hiding
Stars quit shining
Rain was dropping
Thunder ‘n’ lightning
You wrecked my whole world when you came
And hit me like a hurricane
You hit me like a hurricane
Hit me like a hurricane

Mr Combs is singing in a ‘love’ context, but all sorts of things in life can hit us ‘like a hurricane’: love, loss, birth, death, injustice, racism, bullying, fraud, illness, losing a job, getting a dream job … the list is a long one.

My ‘hurricane’ experience has been around injustice and a sense of things being taken away from me. There’s been lots of big, dark clouds and it’s felt like the moon has gone and the stars have stopped shining.

I have been comforted and genuinely known that God is with me in the storm, but I’ve also been wrestling with wanting immediate solutions. I’ve been looking for a final flash of lightening and clap of thunder in the hope that God shows up big-time, does what only God can do and just calms the raging skies and tumultuous waters.

I’m not totally sure where I am in all this mix, but I have discovered something I hadn’t realised before. Whatever happens in life, I am convinced that God does love the world so much. God loves me and you so much. And here’s my big learning: whatever happens, God is way more invested in our futures … my future … your future … than either you are or I am. I’ve found that an amazing thought.

The moon will rise again; the stars will continue to shine; rain will refresh; thunder and lightening will give way to calm. Perhaps not always in our time, in our way, or at our demand – and whilst that’s the tough bit – I know that the hurricane will one day blow through.

If you want to know more about Luke Combs and his music, here is the link to his website https://www.lukecombs.com/

Gill writes:

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that parents of teenagers can have a tendency to secretly like some of the music that is blaring out of their offsping’s room.

Needless to say, in our house, the music that I secretly (well – not any more!) like is that of Stormzy. From ‘Shut Up’ to ‘Vossi Bop’ to ‘Heavy is the Head’ to this song – ‘Do Better’. The video to this song was inspired by his performance at Glastonbury in 2019 – a performance that, for many, went down as one of the best Pyramid sets ever.

Funnily enough, whilst many of us who had watched were buzzing – Stormzy says “I came off stage and thought I’d totally, absolutely blown it,”. He says that he cried for an hour afterwards because he believed that it was the worst show he’d ever done. It transpires that his in-ear sound blew 20 minutes into the set and he had no sound. He couldn’t hear how good he actually was.

Even though people were reassuring him, it took organiser Emily Eavis to play it back to him so he could see how great it had been.

The lyrics to ‘Do Better’ manage to encapsualate the pressure that Stormzy is under – and also puts himself under. The video shows us the effort he puts into his work and brings to mind that being black means you have to work twice as hard at your craft to be seen and respected.

If I can do better then I’ll be better
Rolling in the deep, I need to breathe better
I see demons in my sleep, I need to sleep better

There are a lot of us out there who push ourselves to know more, do more and be more. It’s good to push ourselves a little – to strive for better, especially if that ‘better’ is for others. However, we can push ourselves too much, too far and too hard as well – and that doesn’t reap rewards for anyone.

The chorus throughout reminds us that though we can do better, it will still be okay. By all means, aim to be your best self (as they say these days) but remember that you can rest, you can let up, you can let down, you can be human.

Find out what Stormzy is up to at the moment at https://www.stormzy.com/

Nel writes:

‘But I’d follow you to the great unknown’

This is by far my most favourite song of The Greatest Showman movie! ~ oh my goodness it sings like the testimony song of my soul!

I am someone who so prefers life to be tied up nicely neat with a ribbon and who, oh so happily, stays safely on land.

But I follow You.

To the great unknown.

Because, like it or not, a faith pilgrimage livingness inhabits these messy and unsafe words …

Trust

Faith

Risk

Go

Change

Grow

It’s all an adventure.

A wibbly, wobbly, precarious, daring walk along a tightrope of discipleship ~ hand in hand with the very safest and most secure trapeze artist of all.

And it all comes with a breathtaking view of an empty cross, an abandoned tomb and the hope of glory stretching across our everlasting horizon.

The lyrics of Tightrope are filled with faith-full images and the heartbeat of a psalm …

Mountains and valleys,

and all that will come in between

Desert and ocean

You pulled me in and together we’re lost in a dream

Always in motion

So I risk it all just to be with you

And I risk it all for this life we choose

Hand in my hand and you promised to never let go

We’re walking the Tightrope

We are always in motion as disciples following Jesus; hand in hand with the One who holds us securely and eternally.

Will you catch me if I fall?

Oh, for sure He will.

I like that.

Find out more about The Greatest Showman at https://family.20thcenturystudios.com/movies/the-greatest-showman

Gill writes:

I’m one of those people that is completely fascinated with words. I like to know the language that they originate from, whether there was an original meaning that is different from the one now and I like to understand how other languages have shaped and formed our English language.

This might also be why am fascinated with the lyrics of songs and how they marry meaning with music. Music on its own is a beautiful language but, to me, adding the perfect lyrics to the right rhythm and melody brings about a whole, new dimension.

One of my friends shared a word on Facebook a few days ago – ‘pluviophile’ (a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days). I was taken straight to this song from the 80’s which is part of my soundtrack to life because whenever I am caught in rain, I don’t necessarily run for cover. I can have a tendency to zip up my jacket properly, pull the hood up and surrender to the downpour. If I do, this is always the song that I start singing…

I’ve been walking in rain, just to get wet on purpose

Of course, the rest of the song is not about rain at all but is a series of one liners that capture the essence of inner turmoil and conflicted thoughts and feelings.

I hate that mirror
It makes me feel so worthless
I’m an original sinner but when I’m with you
I couldn’t care less

and these words lead to the ultimate line I’ve been getting away with it all my life. I’m not sure about you, but there are many times in my life where these words couldn’t feel any truer. I’m talking about imposter syndrome. The School of Life Dictionary (which is a great book about emotional intelligence) describes imposter syndrome as ‘the crippling thought that people like us could not possibly triumph given what we know of ourselves: how reliably stupid, anxious, gauche, crude, vulgar and dull we really are’. I’ll just pause while you take an uncomfortable intake of breath…

Pause.

There are many times in my daily life where I hear people say things that tally with having imposter syndrome. The Local Preacher who still can’t quite believe they are entrusted with preaching; the youth worker who wouldn’t claim they are an expert about young people (even though they work with them day in, day out); the Minister who chairs church meetings feeling like they’re not qualified to do that. So many people have this underlying worry that they are ‘going to found out’ – for what?

In these ‘imposter syndrome’ moments, it’s worth bearing in mind that we are created and possess God-given gifts, skills and abilities. We’re already equipped by God for the work that we do – whether we feel we are worthy or not.

We don’t see and experience ourselves like others do, or how God sees and knows us. We don’t see that we’re capable of more than we think we are; we don’t realise that we’re respected and valued for our knowledge or our gifts; we don’t believe that we’re entrusted with such important tasks at times.

Let the feeling that you’re getting away with it wash away – and trust that God has placed you in the right time and the right place for the kingdom work that you are doing. Amen!

Electronic were formed of two musicians – Bernard Sumner from New Order http://www.neworder.com/ and Johnny Marr https://johnnymarr.com/. They also worked on songs, including this one, with the Pet Shop Boys https://www.petshopboys.co.uk/