The mindset of a blogger.

Is it coincidence that I sacked in the 'blog a month' plan at the same time that I also acquired a girlfriend? Or that I think to post something new now that she's in Uganda and out of contact for three weeks?

No.
That says a lot to me about blogging and loneliness.

Interesting.

I'm not saying that it's a universally applicable rule, it's just that it seems - in my case - that blogging has been a substitute for actual human contact.
If I suddenly become a prolific blogger, you have my permission to worry. I'd be touched. Take me for coffee.

Thanks!

In which we talk little and listen a lot.

I've noticed that my blogs have been sneakily getting longer, and I think it's definitely time to put a stop to that. Short and sweet is the name of the game for April. No unnecessary verbosity here.

Since Christmas I've been playing a game with Spotify and a couple of friends. The rules are as follows: 20 songs, all of them must mean something special to you. I'm not going to publish the whole list here, nor am I going to explain each choice - I tried it and, frankly, it was a miserable experience. I will, however, give you a couple of selected highlights. Apologies for the rubbish videos - I tried to find proper versions where possible. Enjoy.

We used this song as part of my final GCSE drama performance. That whole year was a brilliant one, it was when I learnt to actually talk to people and make proper friends and stuff. This song brings back all the many joyous memories.

Another song that reminds me of happy times and my best friends in my last year of school. That’s when I first came across this band, and this song makes me feel so wonderfully content. Happy times.

This is almost definitely a song about God, and an absolutely cracking one. It conjures all sorts of happy feelings, but mostly just makes me feel absolutely delighted to be alive and part of God’s creation. I love it.

Such an honest, realistic description of love, and more romantic than so many ‘love songs’ that are bandying about the place. No poetry, no pretension, just ‘I want to spend my life with you’. It’s beautiful in it’s simplicity. Contains both the best and worst line in the world in “What if, what if, what if, what? // If it’s not perfect then it’s not”.

It would be wrong to compile a list of songs I love without popping some Killers in there, but I couldn’t choose. This one isn’t an obvious choice, but has some wonderful lines and is about asking a bunch of the important questions that I ask myself on a reasonably regular basis. “Am I strong enough to be the one? // Will I live to have some children?... If I only knew the answer I wouldn’t be bothering you, Father” It’s a prayer about insecurity, strength and dependence on God, and I sort of love it for that.

That's me done. Happy spring, all. Go and enjoy the sun.

In which we discuss emotion, music and self-expression.

After I posted my blog yesterday, I had a little look through my posts since December, and it looks like there is a gradually emerging theme. You don’t have to have known me for very long to know that music is a massive part of my life, and I thought it was probably time to put that side of me under the microscope a little bit. Shall we do it in public? Why yes, we shall.

I’m not pretending to be some kind of musical virtuoso - it’s always embarrassing when people confidently declare that “music is my life” before what almost always turns out to be a horrendous performance of something by Leona Lewis - but I’ve always found that music is able to get to the root of my emotions and help me express myself in a way that nothing else can. There are two ways this can work, and they both have their moments.

The first way is as a response to what I’m already feeling. Ask almost any of my friends and they’ll tell you I’m more than a little uncomfortable talking about anything that involves any kind of emotion or vulnerability. Maybe this is an issue of pride - I simply don’t want to sound like an idiot - or maybe it’s a wariness that comes from having tried and failed to adequately express myself in the past. Either way, it’s a massive struggle. It’s been said, however (and I forget who by), that whatever you’re feeling, whatever situation you’re in, somebody’s written a song about it. More often than not, I’ve found this to be true, and there’s something about hearing my emotions expressed both lyrically and musically that, at its best, is incredibly powerful. It’s a bit emo, I know, but when I can’t put words to how I’m feeling, hearing somebody else express it is a massive help. It’s not always a negative thing, either. Putting a happy song on when you’re feeling brilliant is every bit as responsive as putting a sad song on when you’re feeling rubbish: it can capture and heighten the emotion you’re feeling, and wallowing or rejoicing in it for a bit can be delightfully escapist, in a funny sort of way.

Naturally, though, this isn’t always healthy, especially when it comes to wallowing. The alternative to the first option is to treat music as a cure for whatever else is going on. When I’m having a bad day I can, more often than not, be cheered up by a tight groove and a beautiful melody as much as by ice cream and a Peep Show DVD. More, even. Music has the power to manipulate emotion - my emotion, at least - as much as anything and anyone else I’ve experienced. Breaking out of a bad mood can be almost impossibly difficult, but with a bit of light-hearted pop or tight funk it suddenly becomes no challenge at all: just immerse yourself in the music and be happy. It’s like drowning your sorrows with abundant alcoholic beverages, only infinitely more fulfilling. The question is, though, does it deal with any problems, or is it still just emotional escapism?

I’ve flirted with both options over the last few days, and, whilst there is definitely a place for emo wallowing, I’ve found myself leaning much more towards ‘happy music’. I spent the majority of the day yesterday trying to write out the drum part for Toto’s ‘Rosanna’ (a project that will continue through Easter, I suspect), and just having the groove on a loop in my head put me in an irrepressibly and irrationally good mood for the whole day. When, in the evening, I sat down to play what I’d written, I was all smiles. It felt good. I can’t explain why or how music has managed to have such a tight hold on the way I feel, but I think I like it. The important thing for me is to be careful what I’m listening to, and to be aware of the effect it has on me.

Once I’ve got the hang of that, I’ll be a confident and eloquent expresser of emotion, both verbally and musically. That’s the plan, anyway. Until then, I’ll just bumble on as I am and hope for the best.

In which we briefly discuss musical authenticity, with particular reference to Ellie Goulding.

In an effort to maintain my current rate of one blog a month, I’m feeling the need to say something worthwhile before Thursday. It’ll be a challenge: not because I have nothing to say, but because my mind has been abuzz with activity of late, and I could happily write about quite a few things.

I was initially planning to run with a bit of an examination of authenticity in music, taking Ellie Goulding as a bit of a case study. She’s got a voice that sits comfortably in the ‘quirky folk’ camp - comparisons have been made with Bon Iver, Joanna Newsom, Florence and the Machine and Bjork - and yet the slick production of her debut album leaves her with a much more polished, ‘poppy’ sound than any of her folk contemporaries. Looking at her acoustic performances alongside her live electric shows - complete with sequenced backing tracks - I think it’s clear that the production disguises her incredible voice and talent with layers of synth hooks and sequenced drums, and she suffers because of it. It’s this trade-off, however, that has made her so commercially marketable. Who wins? Artistic integrity or money? Do synths and sequencing, by nature, invalidate any authenticity? You decide. I can’t make up my mind.

I’ll leave it there for now, but tomorrow may well bring another blog - something hopefully a little more personal, insightful and interesting. I have the words, I just need to put them in order.

Watch this space.

"Christian Music" and the UK Charts

Lent has begun, people are hungry for chocolate and thirsty for alcohol and coffee, and a distressing slew of new facebook groups have cropped up.

It seems that, over the last couple of years, Lent has been a time for Christians to rally together online and campaign for one cause or another. The vast majority of these groups are totally harmless and often admirable, but this year there has been a new development. It seems that the Christians of the UK are determined to get “Christian Music” - to press, the music of ‘Delirious?’ - to top the charts over Easter.¹

I should say straight away that I have no objection to the charts being full of “Christian Music” (the term itself is questionable, hence the quotation marks), but there are some serious problems with the attitudes of the people behind these groups.

To begin, we need to look at what is meant by “Christian Music”. Does the term refer exclusively to songs about God? Is it reserved for music written and performed by Christians? Can we use it to describe songs that promote Christian ideals and values?

Typically, it’s a term used when referring to music written about God, by Christians. There is a sizable ‘Christian Music’ scene in the UK, and there are a number of artists who make careers out of becoming part of it. Indeed, it is possible to live off the income of your Christian band and never once see mainstream chart success. See www.crossrhythms.co.uk for a catalogue of artists who do just this.

The problem with reserving the “Christian Music” labels for these artists is that it totally ignores those Christians who are seeing mainstream chart success with the songs they’re writing and performing. If the songs they’re singing aren’t about God, or aren’t positively evangelistic in their message, do they deserve to be considered? It’s an important question, and one to which my answer (feel free to disagree) is categorically ‘Yes’.

Christians believe that creativity is a huge part of God’s character: whether they believe God made the universe in six days or billions of years, all Christians believe that he did it. A greater act of creativity would be hard to find. Christians also believe that we’re made in the image of God, and, as such, each of us has the capacity to create and enjoy art, music and literature, as well as many other creative pursuits. If the life of a Christian is an act of worship, and that Christian is creating music in the knowledge that all their passion and creative ability comes from God, is that music worship? Is it Christian music? Absolutely.

With this in mind, we see that Christian music is already topping the charts. Indeed, Owl City’s ‘Fireflies’ was the UK number 1 for three consecutive weeks, and currently sits and number 3. Adam Young - who is ‘Owl City’ - is a both a devout Christian and a talented songwriter. There are plenty of Christian artists who have enjoyed varying degrees of mainstream success simply by engaging with the culture that surrounds them, engaging with the creative nature of the God they serve, and then making really good music.

Love them or hate them, Switchfoot have enjoyed success in the USA for writing lyrically and musically interesting songs that, whilst not explicitly about God, often explore meaningful themes. Frontman Jon Foreman is himself dubious about the label of ‘Christian Music’:

"For us, it's a faith, not a genre. We've always been very open and honest about where the songs are coming from. For us, these songs are for everyone. Calling us 'Christian rock' tends to be a box that closes some people out and excludes them. And that's not what we're trying to do. Music has always opened my mind—and that's what we want".

What about Athlete? All were committed Christians when they found mainstream success, and yet, whilst there’s no particularly obvious ‘Christian’ material on any of their albums, their honest lyrics and creative approach to music - particularly on ‘Vehicles and Animals’ is, to me, more worshipful than much of the Delirious output. Listen to ‘Beautiful’ and try to tell me it’s not about God. More than that, if you’re a Christian, take yourself off into the hills in summer, take in the view, pop the song on your iPod and the song takes on incredible meaning. We should sing it in church, really.

The most obvious example, and my favourite, is the work of Mumford and Sons. I don’t know whether or not they’re Christian, but their debut album is certainly riddled with religious imagery. It’s only the chorus of ‘Little Lion Man’ that leaves me in any doubt. Listen to it and you’ll get what I mean. Listen to ‘Sigh No More’, though, and you’ll hear a more vivid, more powerful description of what it means to be a Christian than any song I’ve heard on a Sunday morning.

“Love that will not betray you, dismay or enslave you,
It will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be.
There is a design,
An alignment to cry,
At my heart you see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be”

That’s what it’s all about. The album of the same name peaked at number 7 when it was released in October last year, and is most definitely worth a listen.

For what it’s worth, Delirious have had a crack at the charts, with their best effort peaking at number 16. Not a bad go, but the band failed to develop or maintain any mainstream success because, arguably, the music they wrote for the ‘secular’ market was, fundamentally, not very good. Argue with me if you like, but it’s true. Other musicians - Christian or not - are exploring big themes. Robbie Williams has made a career out of introspective explorations of life’s meaning and purpose. Athlete, Owl City, Mumford and Sons, U2 and many others, whether or not you like them, have achieved success through honestly and creatively reflecting the character of God in their music.

I love seeing Christian music top the charts. But let’s not impose Christian culture on the music industry through sheer brute force, and let’s certainly not do it with Delirious. I want to see the very best music topping the charts, and, bearing in mind the God we serve, Christians have no excuse for not creating the very best music. That’s how I want to see it done: Christians passionately and creatively making the very best music, because the God whose image we’re made in is passionate, is creative, and deserves the best.

¹ http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=297890032548
http://www.facebook.com/invadetheairwaves?ref=search&sid=1625070039.756408457..1

My (apparently controversial) thoughts on the final appearance of David Tennant's Doctor.

Excuse me while I leap with gusto onto the national bandwagon: I like David Tennant. I like his cheeky grin, I like his nervous energy, I like his wide eyes, I like his beautiful flicky hair.

Or, at least, I did. In 2005, when he thrust himself onto our televisions as the tenth Doctor, all those statements were true. Tennant was a welcome change from the brusque northern gangling of Christopher Eccleston’s already-forgotten ninth Doc, and he approached the part with such enthusiasm that he -- and the show he starred in -- immediately became a national treasure. Five years on, and I’m not so sure. The cheeky grin became an irritating grimace, his nervous energy came to define the man as an uncontrollable caricature of himself and his wide eyes became vacant and tired. As four series passed, it became obvious that Tennant, and Russel T Davies, who masterminded the show’s return, were running out of ideas.

The departure of Tennant and Davies will bring a much-needed freshness to the ‘Doctor Who’ team. With Davies handing over the task of Head Writer and Executive Producer to Steven Moffatt, and Tennant relinquishing his position to the young and sprightly Matt Smith (who, at 27, is the youngest ever Doctor), we should begin to see a renewed energy and enthusiasm. Exciting times indeed, for if the BBC’s series preview is to be believed, the eleventh Doctor will bring with him more of everything that’s been good about the last five series: More Daleks, more vampires, more weeping angels, more attractive-if-pathetic assistants and more inevitable sexual tension.

It is a shame, then, that the New Year’s Day finale saw Tennant’s time as the Doctor grind to a nauseatingly sentimental halt, rather than end with the adrenaline-fuelled bang that many (including me) were hoping for. The epic battle of two great Time Lords that had been set up by the penultimate episode simply failed to happen, and the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ return of Timothy Dalton’s Time Lord race was the very definition of anticlimax. This was an episode loaded with dramatic potential that absolutely failed to deliver: take two evil time-travelling geniuses who can kill by shooting blue light out of their hands, one internally conflicted man struggling to come to terms with his own impending demise but with the power to save mankind, and Bernard Cribbins trapped in a glass box full of space-age nuclear waste, and you’ve not to be a real idiot not to create TV gold. Especially when three of the four main characters are played by some of the most respected British actors on television.

TV gold, is, sadly, not what I witnessed, and instead Davies and Tennant treated us to a series of nostalgic, meandering visits to past assistants in a self-indulgent, smugly introspective and utterly unnecessary quarter of an hour, by which point the thing I wanted most in the world was to see David Tennant’s face explode and someone else take over.

In that respect, at least, the episode was a success.