The Friday Fix

  • ‘City of Love’ – Deacon Blue

    Gail writes:

    As lockdown was announced towards the end of March, I resisted all calls to make the most of this great opportunity that being at home offered. I didn’t want to master a new language; I ignored calls to join in online fitness sessions; I made no plans to transform our interiors or read all those books that have sat waiting patiently.

    Instead, it was simply a matter of survival.

    I aimed solely on getting through and staying well.

    Around this time Deacon Blue released their 9th studio album: City of Love. The title track seemed to follow me whenever I turned the radio on – it was always playing. I felt an instant affinity (isn’t it a joy when a song has that immediate impact?) and my spirits were lifted.

    “All that remains” sang Ricky Ross, “is a City of Love”.

    These words swam around my head endlessly it seemed.

    As lockdown unfolded I didn’t join the ranks of those doing extraordinary things: key workers putting in long, dedicated shifts or gestures of great altruism: fundraising or volunteering. Secretly part of me wished I was contributing more. Instead I was working at home. Sitting at my desk. Writing emails and making phone calls. It wasn’t exceptional but in the circumstances it felt all I was able to do.

    As the lyrics to ‘City of Love’ continue:

    “If you’ve got the will, you’ve got to keep on going”

    so I did, feeling the whole weight of these peculiar and surreal circumstances. And yet there was relief as time went by, a new divine warmth, a sense of God near, his hovering in close proximity that enabled me to “put what I’m carrying down”.

    These spiritual overtones in City of Love have spurred me on, a song that Ricky Ross has described as “a hope for the future”. During a season of strangely abnormal normality, existing in our own bubble, I’ve discovered my grand offering to the common good is in fact a small one. Little gestures that build a ‘City of Love’ in my own and the lives of others. Because that is all that remains: love for those dearest to me. Love for my neighbour. Contributions that lovingly demonstrate kindness and hopefulness. That seek to let someone else know they are seen and remembered in a time we’ve been forced to become distant. And God inhabits it all in his own mysterious way.

    This song (along with other album tracks such as ‘Wonderful’) have been rich and comforting as we’ve progressed through the days, weeks and now months of lockdown. Hopefully my tickets to hear Deacon Blue live again in October will remain valid, for Ricky to sing “all that remains is a City of Love” just so I can join in with gusto and a very thankful heart.

    Find out more about Deacon Blue at https://deaconblue.com/

  • Our First Spotify List

    Well thanks to the bright spark who suggested that we put together a Spotify Playlist, we’ve created our first one which gathers together all of the 2019 Friday Fix songs.

    We’ll be creating another one soon – 2020 Vol I….

  • ‘Station to Station’ – David Bowie

    Alison writes:

    Last night I watched TV and Bowie’s 2000 session from Glastonbury was playing. I love Bowie; there is something about some of his songs, and something about his voice, and something about him that are all captivating.

    One of the songs he played was ‘Station to Station’ which has these lines

    “Got to keep searching and searching

    Got to keep searching and searching

    And oh, what will I be believing

    And who will connect me with love?

    Wonder who, wonder who, wonder when“

    I am currently forced to search within at the moment. Lockdown is still a reality for me, as I am told not to expect to go back to face to face work for months still, and I have hurt my leg and can’t walk far.  As an extrovert, who often finds truth in experiences, this is very tough. There are things inside I don’t want to see and at the moment I don’t have the excuses normally available to me, namely travelling lots and always with people.

    Bowie asks ‘what will I be believing’? I like that this is a future tense question, not a present tense one, as it indicates that future beliefs may not be the same as present ones. I currently believe in a God who is the same yesterday, today and forever, which I currently understand to be about rootedness and connection. A God who is found in radical acts of justice and mercy.

    Who will connect me with love?

    The answer is meant to be Jesus, but that is too simple an answer. There isn’t one answer, other than to that almost all things can connect me with love, if I want them to.

    If I want to be connected.

    One thing currently connecting me with love is the rage and determination of the young people who are kneeling for 8 minutes 43 seconds, at 2 metre distance from one another, forming a ring around the City of Lancaster on the last 2 Wednesdays.

    Another thing connecting me and some of my family with love at the moment are the young trans people who love Harry Potter and are desolate, as the author appears to be joining dots that don’t join – namely women’s rights and trans rights being in opposition to one another. 

    These people all connect me to love. I think they would connect Bowie to love too. And I see Jesus in all of this, as he simply said ‘love your neighbour as yourself’. 

    Bowie asks, I wonder when and who will connect me with love? 

    Those unexpected moments are treasures. This morning Radio 3 played a piece from Swan Lake and I danced around the kitchen like no-one was looking (no-one was looking). I danced and danced and then started to cry; I sobbed deeply. I let myself feel some of the pain of the world from these last few months. The lonely deaths; the heart breaking funerals with few people there; the loss of rites of passage; the deaths of black and brown people here and around the world; a group of refugees who crossed the Channel this week in a paddling pool.  

    In the end, I lay on the kitchen floor and felt the music, and imagined myself in the orchestra pit feeling the music beat through my body and I floated in the sound. That unexpected who and when was a treasure. 

    Let us pray…

    “Got to keep searching and searching And oh, what will I be believing
    And who will connect me with love?
    Wonder who, wonder who, wonder when”

    If you’d like to watch the full set that David Bowie did at Glastonbury in 2000, you can see it here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m000kjlh/glastonbury-david-bowie

  • ‘I Want Jesus to Walk With Me’ – Eric Bibb

    Our Friday Fix this week comes from Clive and it’s quite pertinent since today is his last day as Vice-President of the Methodist Conference. Even more so as this song was used by him in last year’s Conference.

    So we’re happy to ‘let in’ a religiously overt song this week and wish Clive well as he embarks on the next stage in his journey as Principal at The Queen’s Foundation (http://www.queens.ac.uk/).

    Clive writes:

    It’s sometimes hard, as a privileged White, Western, male Christian to own the spirituals. Robert Beckford has rightly challenged UK choirs to think carefully about what they are doing when they sing spirituals – as if there are no complications about singing religious songs which emerged from the Black slave experience. Admittedly, any part of Christian tradition can be lived and made one’s own. But sensitivity is needed. 

    I knew â€˜Kumbaya’ and ‘Let us Break Bread Together On Our Knees’ from early in my Christian life. When you hear the range of recordings available of such spirituals, though, the lush versions from highly-trained choirs sound just a bit too polished. There is a mis-match between the life-experiences being mentioned or alluded to and the neatness of the music. There are thousands of spirituals. They exist as a large body of material which Christians anywhere can access and make use of. Even if few make it into formal hymnals or song-books, that’s perhaps not where they best belong anyway. They are more like learned prayers which can be summoned up in the mind when needed, or sung when possible. 

    I only discovered ‘I Want Jesus to Walk With Me’ in my 30s or 40s. I can’t quite recall exactly how it happened, but a live version of it appeared on an Eric Bibb CD I bought (Roadworks, 2003). So it became part of the ever-growing, and always-being-edited, musical ‘canon’ of material within which I live and on which I draw as part of my spirituality. It came alive for me, though, as a spiritual when, about ten years ago, someone I know got into real difficulties.

    I found myself listening to it often, singing along when I could, though that wasn’t always easy as I was weeping regularly, not knowing how best to help someone I was close to, who was in dire need. Phrases such as ‘when I’m in trouble’, ‘when my heart is almost breaking’, ‘in my trials’ and â€˜when my head is bowed in sorrow’ all took on a new intensity. At the same time, the value and meaning of ‘I want Jesus to walk with me’ was being stretched, sometimes, it seemed, to breaking point. It’s what I wanted, but what difference was it making? And what of the friend who had no intention of seeking Jesus’ help and remained in need? 

    Because I’m an academic, a researcher, an enquirer, a questioner, my faith is never unexplored. It’s a constant state of wrestling (what’s true? what’s really happening here? is God real anyway?). But the questions are posed within an overarching umbrella of trust. Even if there can never be certainty about exactly what is happening and how, as a listener you can be carried by the music. In and through Jesus, and in and through the music, God accompanies us in our troubles and sorrows.  

    Find out more about Eric Bibb at https://www.ericbibb.com/

  • ‘An Act of Kindness’ – Bastille

    Marc writes:

    This wasn’t on my radar at all until I was looking for a piece of music to go behind an Easter chalk drawing… A petition to the Hive-Mind of Facebook brought this song to my attention. (It was the perfect piece, as long as I removed the bridge about feeling guilty…)

    Have you ever noticed that the Cross is everywhere?
    In the intentional through religious art.
    In the fashionable of jewellery and clothing.
    In the integral as a crucial part of the structure of architecture.

    And what if we used all those reminders to point back to Jesus’ act on the cross?

    And what if we thought of it as an “Act of Kindness”?

    “​Kindness: The quality of being generous…”

    A reminder of the generosity of God…
    A reminder of our calling to be generous with what we have received from God…

    Lyrics:
    ​An act of kindness
    Is what you show to me
    Not more than I can take
    Not more than I can take
    Kindness is what you show to me
    It holds me ’till I ache
    Overflow and start to break

    Oh I, got a feeling this will shake me down
    Oh I, kind of hoping this will turn me round

    And now it follows me every day
    And now it follows me every day, every day, every day
    And now it follows me every day
    And now it follows me every day, every day, every day

    An act of kindness
    Is what you show to me
    It caught me by surprise in this town of glass and eyes
    Kindness, so many people pass me by
    But you warm me to my core and you left me wanting more

    Oh I, got a feeling this will shake me down
    Oh I, kind of hoping it will turn me round
    Oh I, got a feeling that however slow
    Oh I, kind of hoping this will reach my soul

    And now it follows me every day
    And now it follows me every day, every day, every day
    And now it follows me every day
    And now it follows me every day, every day, every day

    Here’s the video I edited together:

    You can find out what Bastille are doing at https://www.bastillebastille.com/

  • ‘Make Your Own Kind of Music’ by Paloma Faith


    Fidge writes:

    I was born into a singing family. I know that sounds a little bit like I grew up with the Von Trapps or the Nolans, but singing is something my family did. My dad was a Scout Leader and we grew up singing all those campfire songs. My gran had special songs that she used to sing to us when we visited her, and every year we begged her to sing them! My sister has a recording of her singing and when I hear it, I am immediately taken back to my childhood days with all those memories.

    I have always loved singing. I’m not so good at it that I can read music but being in a choir and singing with others is something that makes my heart soar. It was only recently that I acknowledged that singing is one of the ways in which I pray.

    I loved Paloma Faith’s (you got to) ‘Make your own Kind of Music’ from the moment I first heard it. Not only is the music that kind of happy song that makes you feel good about the day, but the lyrics seemed to sum up my sense of life. It’s a song that my own choir Northern Proud Voices, loves to sing out!

    As a teacher, educator, youth worker, development worker, I have always tried to enable and encourage each to find their own unique path – as the song says, to

    Sing your own special song. Make your own kind of music. Even if nobody else sings along

    Paloma herself describes it as “being a fearlessness for being who you are.” I know from my own lived experience that sometimes this can be costly.

    It may be rough going. Just to do your thing is the hardest thing to do.

    Paloma talks honestly and with a sense of vulnerability about these words and you may like to listen to this here – https://youtu.be/EbgaO0Xmt-Q Its short, about 3 minutes but I love the way she talks about her clothes and dress style and even knowing that people will, and do, criticise her, she does it to bring a sense of fun into her life. Sometimes I think we are short of fun in life, especially as adults.

    I was ordained about this time last year and I really wanted this song to be played at the dismissal. It didn’t happen as my lovely organist friend had planned something else and I didn’t want to upset him. But this song kind of sums up my calling, my ministry, my life – to go out into the world, to love and transform it, but in my own unique, quirky kind of way.

    I think we are all called to sing our own special song – so what is your special song? What is your calling? What is God calling you to do and to be? Are there people, places, situations that you need to speak out for especially when nobody else seems to be doing it?

    Paloma justifies her style by saying “life is to live!” And if I’m not mistaken, I think Jesus said something very similar! I hope today, as you listen to this, that it brings you joy, makes you smile but also that it helps you to discern your own “special song.”

    Find out more about Paloma Faith at https://www.palomafaith.com/

  • ‘Speechless’ – Naomi Scott

    Marc writes:

    Kneeling is an option towards action. We should NEVER be kneeling on someone else, keeping them from freedom, suffocating them, taking away their life, be that physically or metaphorically… So that option, whilst it is there, is the wrong choice.

    We can all easily kneel in prayer. We can all ask God to show his love through us and through others, and if we don’t have the words we can just let our hearts cry to him. That is a valid step towards action, and is sometimes all we can do.

    The third option is to protest in a way that doesn’t hurt others, but makes a serious point.

    Colin Kaepernick (in the middle) first knelt a few years ago during the USA National Anthem in front of millions of people because of the way black people were being treated (again, it’s not a new thing).

    His protest was bigger than he could have hoped, but he also made other people angry. It cost him his job (people didn’t want an unpatriotic football player, regardless of how good he was). He got death threats. But he didn’t stop.

    This week he said he would be paying the legal fees of any protesters in his city who were charged for their peaceful actions. He wants to see change, and is finding an honourable and righteous way to do it. The bottom line is that for too long too many groups of people have been expected to just accept that they are of lesser value than other:

    White skin is the best; men are better than women; straight is the only sexuality; you’re looked down on if you are too young or too old; your level of education, or your job, or where you live, or the amount of money you have, or the clothes you wear are all signs of your worth and your status.

    And for too long we’ve told people to be quiet. It is right that we not only give people a chance to speak, and listen to them, but that we also add our voices to help them make a difference.

    The song comes from the Disney film ‘Aladdin’ – you can find out more about the film here https://disney.co.uk/movies/aladdin-2019 – which starred British actor, Naomi Scott, playing Princess Jasmine and sings ‘Speechless’.

  • ‘The Story of the Blues: Part One’ by The Mighty Wah!

    Gill writes:

    Merseyside has played a big part in my life. My ‘junior school’ years were spent in West Lancashire where I cultivated a Scouse accent (admittedly a posh one!) and even when we moved to the wilds of Preston, Liverpool was still a regular haunt. When I left home, it was to Liverpool that I headed and it continues to be a place where a bit of my heart lies.

    One Sunday afternoon in the mid-90’s, sprawled across the floor in our brand new apartment in Upper Parliament Street, I was captivated by an article in The Observer about Pete Wylie – who is The Mighty Wah! (or Wah! or a whole variety of names that I don’t have time to go into…). It was all about his life and his music. And this is a man who really has had a fascinating life of music-making and influencing other musicians.

    However, one moment of his life stood out like no other because in November 1991, Wylie was leaning against a railing outside his flat (I think) when it gave way and he fell 20ft to the basement. He fractured his spine and his sternum in the near-fatal accident and spent months rehabilitating. This part of his story captured my attention most of all because the accident had occurred on the very street where I was living – Upper Parliament Street.

    I don’t know why it is but, for me, stories seem to take on another level of meaning when you’ve seen where it’s taken place. Most people who have visited the Holy Land will tell you that the stories in the Bible take on a new dimension because you’ve stood where the stories happened. Even visits to film & TV locations add a fresh dimension of engaging with what you have seen.

    Reading that article that afternoon took me straight to another location – my teenage bedroom and the feelings of being a 14 year-old young woman who was excited, angry and scared about the world. If I was asked to give a personal Top 10 for the 80’s – this song would be right up there. For me, it just sums up the early 80’s.

    Being a teenager at the time, it felt like we were being pummelled with frustration, conflicts and knock-backs – riots, the Falklands, unemployment, unrest in Northern Ireland, the Cold War – but somehow we kept on getting back up and dusting ourselves down. Just like Pete Wylie did following his accident. And to me there’s something reminiscent of what Jesus says about taking the message to people “And if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet when you leave that house or town.” (Matthew 10:14)

    First they take your pride,
    Then turn it all inside,
    And then you realise you got nothing left to los    e

    And this song is just so perfect to sing at the top of your voice – showing the world that you just don’t care and you’re not going to let anything stop you.

    So, you try to stop
    Try to get back up
    And then, you realise
    You’re telling the Story of the Blues

    There are days in Lockdown Britain at the moment where our frustrations and sense of loss just bubbles right up. It feels like life has dealt us a bit of a body blow that we’re struggling to recover from. The sense of powerlessness at times has taken me right back to how I felt at 14.

    So I offer you this song. A song that always gives me the chance to vocalise my frustration, the strength to pick myself up and to try again – no matter what life throws at me. I hope it does the same for you.

    Pete Wylie is still going strong – you can find out what he’s up to by visiting http://www.petewylie.co.uk/

  • ‘Woodstock’ by Joni Mitchell

    For years on this Friday (the one that comes just before Bank Holiday), I have found myself on the way to a small, but perfectly formed, Folk Festival up in the Cumbrian hills.

    The closer you get, the more people you see going in the same direction with roofracks or stuffed back seats ready for camping and musical happiness.

    I guess we are all off with a similar intent. To listen to great artists. To dwell in the fabulous countryside. To risk the vagaries of weather – bright sunshine, torrential rain and once even a frozen tent!!!!!. To read. To feast. To be.

    Oh how I miss it. How I miss even the thought of it. Oh how I miss the festival season lying ahead -a summer started by my beloved “Ireby” but also the kind of summers littered with “Underneath the Stars” “Folk by the Oak” “Cropredy” “Greenbelt” “Beautiful Days” “Shrewsbury” and more.

    The folk on their way to Woodstock in 1969, I’m sure, weren’t really that aware of what might happen and how that festival would revolutionise the lives of so many. The lyrics of this song, even in its first verse, seem to sum up what was needed and wanted in uncertain times. Times of war. Times of wanting to get back to nature. Times of seeking commonality through music and living simply.

    I came upon a child of God

    He was walking along the road

    And I asked him, where are you going

    And this he told me

    I’m going on down to Yasgur’s farm

    I’m going to join in a rock ‘n’ roll band

    I’m going to camp out on the land

    I’m going to try an’ get my soul free

    We are stardust

    We are golden

    And we’ve got to get ourselves

    Back to the garden

    This lockdown has seemingly stolen from me much of what I love and find life-giving. If I had a “lament tent” believe me I’d be raging at God about that. Raging at the loss of community. Raging at the loss of freedom to pitch my tent. Raging at the clamping down on my freedom to go to the lakes or anywhere for that matter. Raging about not feeling the music in my ribcage and singing as loud as possible alongside another soul.

    However lockdown hasn’t really stolen music, a constant accompaniment on my daily compulsory exercise and my lunchtime garden sitting. Lockdown hasn’t stolen my landscape, with even watching the moonrise on the motorway bridge near my house becoming a thing. Lockdown hasn’t stolen like-minded people sharing what matters. Lockdown hasn’t stolen my loud singing – I’m still annoying my ever-suffering neighbour Jo.

    So maybe God is saying to this Child of God it’s not just the festival Jane that gives you life but all these tiny component parts and you must learn to notice those again. Exploit them. Look for me within them and when you get to go again to these special community spaces you might go with fresh eyes, just like those first folk journeying to Woodstock.

    God is in all things and whether we like it or not God is around in this lockdown somehow so get your noticing head on and try to get your soul free.

    Cover versions of this track abound too including this one by Matthews Southern Comfort https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIHfuihoz70

    You can find out more about Joni Mitchell here – https://jonimitchell.com/

    Matthews Southern Comfort here through Iain Matthews’ website http://iainmatthews.nl/?page_id=2