Exploring the Well

Wandering the savage garden...

Music and Performance in Worship

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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.

Listening to Music

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Yesterday I posted a reference to a song by Porcupine Tree, a band I’ve recently started enjoying. I listen to a lot of music from various genres, being a musician and a lover of music; for me it’s relaxing and edifying.

But one thing stands out: I don’t really limit what I listen to, outside of my tastes. There are forms of music that I don’t care for – I’m not much into hip-hop or rap, for example, and electronica has limited appeal for me, and some forms of speed metal are boring.. as is most Christian music.

The limits aren’t really on words, as it turns out; there are some songs I find distasteful because of their content, but for the most part, if it’s written well, it has a chance to resonate with me.

So I find that I probably won’t appreciate a song that shrieks how “God is so terrible, why didn’t I get my Barbie doll, where’s my Jaguar,” there’s nothing that says that I wouldn’t appreciate a song that shrieks how God is so terrible, how could He let something happen?

I can handle an expression of pain that results in a rejection of God – I can find the art in that. I don’t enjoy an expression of greed or arrogance. To me, that’s usually not art, that’s just foolishness.

So I find I can handle Rush easily: intellectual music, performed fantastically, even though the artists are atheists to the best that I can tell. They’ve largely rejected the notion of God, but they are rational about it – and the things they condemn in religion are many of the same things I condemn in religion.

I can handle Yes easily: excellent musicians, writing in purple prose (the music wins over everything), and their spiritual searchings are exactly that: searchings for meaning in spools of random color. As a band, Yes has trouble defining things objectively… but I can deal with that, even while (hopefully) holding objective reasonings myself.

I can handle Tool easily: excellent musicians, writing very angry content. Their rejections of God end up being Jeremiads, fierce considerings calling God to task for what the world is. I can understand (and even share) that sense of anger, even though my final conclusion is not to reject God.

I can handle AC/DC: simple musicians, perhaps, but the music is all Freudian id. I find much of their music laughable in content, but the force behind it is a pleasant association.

Led Zeppelin. Hendrix. Porcupine Tree. Matisyahu.

I guess the point behind all of this is that I don’t have a problem dipping my toes into non-Christian water – because it’s all part of the world in which I live, and to me it’s part of what makes the world what it is for me, a setting in which I can appreciate and glorify the Name of God, even though there are things in this world that attempt to demean the source.

Making Modern Music

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Yesterday, my son and I were looking for some appropriate Hanukkah music (as, of course, Hanukkah is upon us.) We listened to Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah song, as well as digging up the Maccabeats’ “Miracle” on Youtube, which was really pretty neat. (He liked Sandler’s song best, of course.)

However, the Maccabeats’ song makes a reference to Matisyahu. I don’t know where Matisyahu is in the Maccabeats’ video, but I’ve listened to a few songs of his, and decided to show my son some as well.

“One Day” came up first on Youtube’s search.

I think I nearly cried through it, which can happen with some songs (Rush’ “Closer to the Heart” is one, for example)… but not many.

It focused my attention on the other stuff my son listens to – Drake, Ke$ha, Li’l Wayne. I don’t mind his music (much) – I don’t appreciate it, but he’s got his own path to find.

But what stood out to me was what Matisyahu does with similar beats and approaches, against what the… for lack of a better word, typical popular artist does.

Reggae stands out, first.

The main thing, though, is the focus of the music. Matisyahu makes reference to himself, because he’s using his personal point of view, but he’s not talking about himself.

Compare this to some of the other music my son listens to. “I’m bad, I stole a car, I’m dangerous, check my grill, my car, my woman, my crib, my tats, my prison record.”

It’s about the artist, directly, and it’s focusing attention on attributes that glorify only the artist or his aims.

In the grand scheme of the universe, these are very small concerns.

I have a reasonably nice vehicle, but I can’t imagine singing about what it is to other people – regardless of how nice it might be. I can’t imagine glorifying myself, because I’m not that important.

What Matisyahu does is more respectable: he’s looking at issues that matter (peace, mutual benefit, glorification to God) and using himself only to personalize the topic and influence others positively.

Typical pop music is about the artist and his or her desires.

The music I like most is “real,” about something important, instead – not that the artist isn’t important, but the artist’s importance is primarily to the artist and not to me, and my acceptance and appreciation of that importance will always be artificial.

That’s why I say it’s “real.”

“I got a nice car, I got a nice grill, I got a woman and I know she will” isn’t real – it’s me projecting the things I have onto you, somehow. The best I can hope for is to impress or stun you. The effort poured into the creation of such art is destructive, because the creation consumes everything that goes into its making.

But “I want our children to some day be able to play in peace in their way,” well, maybe it’s not perfectly formed, but it’s more real than personal glorification.

The effort poured into this “real” music is constructive, because hopefully it inspires someone to think this way, to see the world as something beautiful to be preserved, to bring the light of God through the shell of evil that surrounds us and into the world for all to see.

Shalom.

Originally published on Dec 22, 2011.