catapult magazine

catapult magazine

Vol 11, Num 11 :: 2012.05.25 — 2012.06.07


The charity of art

One day a week, there’d be a sign in Mrs. Portin’s window announcing: Bible Club today. I’d see it on the way to school in the morning and look forward to hurrying back to our street as soon as school was out.

Songs with words on big cardboard cutouts, flimsy flannel graph characters moved about on unchanging background, snacks, memory verses and prizes to be earned — I loved it. Somewhere along the way I responded to an invitation, prayed the prayer and was saved.

Within a few years my mom was taking my little brother and me to a small Baptist church. I enjoyed the new friends, activities and sense of family.

I arrived at high school in the fall of 1968. To call it a turbulent time is an understatement. The war, political assassinations (I saw Robert Kennedy speak in the parking lot of my neighborhood grocery store about two weeks before he was shot), drugs, protests and an overwhelming sense of alienation hovered. I was trapped in two worlds, the entrenched conservative Christian setting and the rest of my life, out of control, but somehow more alive.

Along comes the summer of 1971. I was encouraged to work at a summer camp our church was connected to. I went, with very little awareness or expectations. Something happened. I was caught up in a spiritual experience (don’t think I’m referring to tongues or other sign gifts — we were true Baptists and those were not an option). Everything aligned and made sense. The Bible was there and we were taught that it related to all of life. There was a clarity born of convictions that guided decisions and life direction. I felt I had found my home and family.

The seventies became a time of immersion in a narrow segment of Christian sub-culture. The Bible was the guide and there was clear agreement on what to believe and how to live. Along with this structure came the forsaking of my worldly past. Music was the biggest shift. I loved the music of the 60s, especially some of the fringe stuff. There was the common pop in that era defined by AM top-forty radio. I was more drawn to the somewhat underworld of FM AOR (album-oriented rock). I worked kid jobs to make money to buy albums. A great Saturday was one spent walking to the bus stop in our suburban neighborhood and riding some ten miles downtown to hang out in record stores.

My renewed or revitalized Christian commitment brought an end to such frivolous living. Now, all was for Jesus: time, money, friends, even music.  I spent the 1970s in a Christian ghetto in which music, books, entertainment, friendship and more were all defined and bounded by my Christian beliefs and convictions. (As an aside, if I was going to miss a decade of secular music, the 70s were a good choice — missing disco was no great loss.)  By the end of the 70s I was married and working for a conservative Christian organization and I had shifted my politics to the right.

And then it happened. I think it was sometime in early 1980. I have often labeled it my second conversion. Connie and I began attending a mainline church, a conservative one, but it was still a big jump. A friend suggested that I might like the music Bruce Cockburn, specifically the Dancing in the Dragon’s Jaws album. The artist was a Christian, so it was safe.

I found the LP in the discount bin of a local variety store. I listened. I loved it. “Wonder Where the Lions Are” became the closest thing to a hit. I didn’t care. It was a mix of folky, mystical instruments and vocals. Over and over I listened. I worked my way back, getting all of his earlier albums. Most were more along the folk vein with Christian imagery. There was an occasional hint of jazz that further drew me in.  In “Wonder Where the Lions Are," there was a line that (inadvertently) had words that named the organization I worked for and it was also a name for where we lived.

Soon I was trying to find out more about this artist (in the pre-Internet days, this was a challenge).  I read that Cockburn was working on a new album called Humans. I found out the release date and got the local Christian bookstore to pre-order a copy for me. Where Dragon’s Jaws encouraged me to think more openly, to seek mystery Humans was gritty, life-is-messy stuff. It was noisy, cluttered, much more busy-city than rural-idyllic. It was 1980 and I had definitely stepped through a door on my pilgrimage. While I do not think music alone caused the shift, it was both an influence and a support.

In 1984, Cockburn released Stealing Fire. This was a perfect album for an imperfect time. It was time for a job shift; my faith and beliefs needed a bigger playing field. The intensity of Stealing Fire fueled my change. Cockburn saw injustice and refused to look the other way. I could relate and found strength for the change and next steps.

It was in this time that I first saw Cockburn in concert. He was at an old dance hall near where I lived and I went with my friend Rick. It was a perfect night. In the small, crowded house, we stood close to the band. Since then I have seen him in concert in numerous locations — solo, with a band, acoustic, plugged in, theaters, clubs and concert halls. I’ve gone with family and friends, sometimes with a group and sometimes with one other person.

Over the years I have bought every Bruce Cockburn album, waiting for the arrival of each new release. In a closet I have old vinyl, even though I have no turntable. I have collector’s editions and imports. I have him on compilation discs as well.

As the 80s progressed, I broadened my music selection. I started reading more diversely. My beliefs and practices shifted. Cockburn’s music was the soundtrack of much of that change. The new albums showed influence of the changing times, with punk, techno and eventually some bits rap and hip hop. He seemed to get more political and less spiritual as time progressed, but only if you define “spiritual” per my old values. Was Cockburn shifting more to the left or was I becoming more aware of my own journey as I listened to his music?

In the 90s, I continued finding new music and following new artists. In the intervening years, there have been other artists I considered my “favorite” for an time, but Cockburn has remained something of a touchstone along the way.

In the mid-90s, he released The Charity of Night. Soon thereafter, it was time for another change and Cockburn once again provided the perfect soundtrack. My family was going through a difficult season; it would be fair to say it was a dark time. “Strange Waters” was there. It was, and is, a song that I can connect with at almost any time on any day. It has buried itself deep within me.

About a year ago I went through yet another shift of job, faith and life. This was the first time that there wasn’t a new Cockburn album for the moment. “Strange Waters” and other older songs came back to help along the way. But the music of the year and the transition was provided by other artists who were newer to me — possibly artists I would not know except for the discovery of Dragon’s Jaws some thirty years back.

I like to think I now listen to diverse music, varied in style and influence. I have little knowledge of, or interest in, “real” Christian music these days. At the same time, many of the artists I follow hold to the Christian faith without being a part of any “Christian” industry or system.

Music feeds my soul. It is prayer. It breathes life. It comforts and challenges. It understands. While I consider myself free of “Christian” music in the industry sense, I still find myself drawn to music rooted in religious traditions. Blues, gospel, country, jazz, folk and country all have story lines of innovators and artists coming up out of a church background or having sung in a choir. 

There is music that is honest, alive. Through whispers, a conversational tone or angst-filled shouting, it communicates from soul to soul. It teaches, challenges and feeds me. I need it. And I wonder how different my life would have be if, thirty-plus years ago, someone hadn’t said they thought I’d like Bruce Cockburn’s music.

May God have mercy on us all. 

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