I’ve been a member of a number of worship bands. I think none of them have been successful engagements for me, to varying degrees, and it’s taken me a while to really work out why.
I thought for a long time that it’s about my ability to really commit to the bands, to be part of them on a weekly basis, and I still think this is a lot of it. When I couldn’t say “Yes, I’ll be there” every week, I ended up being a guest musician, a stand-in, and that really doesn’t help a band gel.
Of course, the next question is: is gelling necessary? To some degree, yes: the band has to trust its component members. The guitarist doesn’t need to be wondering if the bass player’s going to be hitting the note, or when, and inconsistent membership creates an opportunity for, well, a lack of trust.
But I think the biggest problem is still me, not my attendance or consistency. It’s a differentiation in how worship music is played, what it is, why it is, and how I see worship in music. It’s a juxtaposition that I don’t think is innately reconcilable in the context of most churches – maybe all churches, really.
The culture of the church would have to change in order to create a music ministry to which I could meaningfully contribute.
Worship music is, by and large, a cover band’s domain. You’re playing someone else’s songs – Hillsong’s, or Shane and Shane’s, or Phil Wickham’s, for example – and generally you’re trying to play them in a way that’s representative of what the congregation is expecting to hear, so they can participate in worship. You’re leading worship, after all.
What’s more, those musicians – for whom I hold a lot of respect, honestly – design their songs for that environment. They’re not pushing the limits very often. They’ll introduce a key change here and there for emotive reasons (“This is the section that’s resolving all the energy we’ve built up, so we’re going from G to A!”) or occasionally a grace note or chord so that the song stands out from a musical perspective. (Shane and Shane are really good at this.)
The result is that most worship music of a given era sounds… very similar. Derivative, really. There’s nothing wrong with this, because familiarity helps the congregation participate in worship.
I have a hard time connecting with this. I’ve tried writing Christian worship songs, and it sounds very much like what it actually is: an artist trying to write something that sounds like something else. Not only do I find most Christian worship music derivative and repetitive, but my own Christian worship music is derivative and repetitive, except moreso.
I despise my attempts in this area. I recognize experience is a factor there, but I feel that it’s dead in its origin, and I don’t think there’s a spark there to light into flame.
When I play worship music, I feel like it’s important for me to not only lead the congregation in worship – which is the main point of the worship band, after all – but to worship as well. If I’m not participating in the act of worship, I’m not even a conduit – I’m a puppet, miming notes for others to follow.
So when I play, i find myself fighting the desire to play to the utmost of my ability: not to flash, necessarily (I’m not an especially flashy player) but to feel to motion of the music, to amplify it, to play it as well as I am able to according to what I feel the music desires.
I want to play it as if I were playing it before the Holy One. It’s not just miming notes for others to follow, but for me to play.
So the result is that I play… harder, perhaps (not in a “ROCK ON!!!!!” sense, but more intensely) than most of my bandmates, and I have to work intently on playing less than I feel I can and should, in order to fit in and to fulfill the limited goals of a worship band: I play down to the audience, as opposed to up to The Lord.
I don’t resent this. I understand the goals of a worship band, and I also understand that my skills and approach may not be the same as the skills and approaches of the other band members.
But it means that for me, playing in the worship band is a slog, and an unfulfilling one, and I keep thinking that leaks into the performance as well. Because I don’t feel fulfilled in playing worship music in a church, I am unable to serve the congregation in the manner I intend.
To me, music in church should be as it was for David, leaping and dancing before the Ark: the Bible records his wife Michal scolding him for his unrestrained joy (2 Sam 6:16-23). I get Michal’s point – but I feel like I imagine David did, with Michal saying “Show some restraint, be respectable before your fellow man,” when David’s desire was to show his commitment to God and his joy at a victory God had granted him.
So what’s the conclusion here? I think that I’m willing to play to help a band, but I think they’re not especially well-served by this, nor am I. I think my long-term goal is to play the music God has planted in my heart for those who wish to hear it – which may mean just the Lord and me, and I’m fine with that – and let worship bands do what they do better than I do.