not in me

There's finally a new 'untitled music post.' This week it is the music video for "Glósóli" by Sigur Rós.

If you'd like to check it out, and I hope you do, it's over at There's Treasure Everywhere.

Check it out.

On Friday I went to see Iron Man with my wife and our friend Tim. We had a great time! Superhero movies can be really great, like Batman Begins, or really awful, like each of The Fantastic Four films, and I am happy to report that in my opinion Iron Man was of the Batman Begins variety. Also, if you go see it, stay until the end of the credits!!

The exciting thing about all of this for a nerd like myself is that this was the first film made by Marvel Studios, which will make films surrounding their characters like Captain America, The Hulk, Thor, future Iron Man installments, as well as The Avengers, which has actually included all of the listed characters. In the past other large film studios would purchase the rights to popular Marvel characters, like Spiderman and X-Men, and would make the films. Now, Marvel Studios will work similarly to how Pixar worked in the past, by making a film themselves and having a large studio handle distribution. It's great to see that with Iron Man, Marvel Studios hit the first pitch they saw out of the park. The film has made a ton of money in its first weekend, critics are raving about it (especially the performance of Robert Downey Jr.), and those polled and asked to score the film as they exit theaters have been given a large amount of A grades. This bodes well for the future of Marvel Studios, and hopefully they will be able to maintain the high level of quality of they delivered in their first try.

Next on the slate is this summer's The Incredible Hulk, which at the very least will continue the inclusion of impressive acting talent in the role of the titular hero as Edward Norton fills the role of Bruce Banner. A fun reality which may set a precedent for the rest of the Marvel Studios films is that Robert Downey Jr. will be making an appearance in Hulk as Tony Stark (Iron Man).

 
Further down the line Marvel Studios has plenty of other films planned, including the sequel to Iron Man, which apparently Favs (director, Jon Favreau) intended as a trilogy. The planned release date for the sequel is actually an early April, 2010. Soon afterward, in June 2010, is the planned release of Thor. The First Avenger: Captain America then follows in May 2011, followed by the planned release of an Avengers movie in July of 2011.

  Also, planned films further in the future include: Ant-Man, Nick Fury, Black Panther, Dr. Strange, Hawkeye, Shang-Chi, Cloak and Dagger, and Power Pack.

 

 

Ah, the grad school blogging hibernation comes to an end, at least temporarily. I finally come to the end of the spring term at MHGS, so I will again have a bit of 'writing energy' left over in the absence of pages upon pages of papers due every week. My activity on this site may be a bit lacking in that I am in the process of getting a new blog started, a collaborative blog. At least at first, this blog will largely take its tone from the ever untitled music posts which were its inspiration. The idea for the new blog started out simply enough, it was actually just to offer a place where readers could actually download the songs included in the weekly music posts once they were started back up again, as at times the songs meant something to friends of mine and I actually wanted them to have access to them. This idea sort of snowballed in my head, and picked up added steam in conversations with my wife and several friends, and it became clear to me that I really wanted to go somewhere with this idea, and thus spawned a percolation of sorts throughout the weeks that I've been unable to write due to my school work.

So, anyway, here is the new blog. It isn't too much yet, just the initial post, and I will start by moving the pre-existing music posts over to the blog during the next week or so before new posts commence. The good news is, if you liked any of the songs I've posted so far you will be able to download them off the new site, but hopefully you'll buy them someday and show the artists some love.

I hope you all come check it out.

I realize this blog may be a little lacking in the area of fluidity and it might jump around a bit. I've just been living from deadline to deadline at school this month but I didn't want to miss a week so soon. So, I hope everyone can bear with me, and perhaps it can still work as a means of grace.

I've blogged before about my affection for the often covered, Leonard Cohen penned masterpiece "Hallelujah". Since Cohen originally wrote the song it has taken on a life of its own, for a variety of reasons. As one of the many aspects of the brilliance of the song, one of the reasons for the remarkable cover life the song has experienced would be the reality that over time Cohen continued adding verses to the song, performing the song in different forms throughout the years. Apparently, in total, the song has 15 different verses, and Cohen himself performs only a few at a given time when he plays the song.

This is significant because when an artist covers the song they are able to pick which of the 15 verses they will perform themselves, thus drawing upon what the song means to them so they can truly make the song their own. This is significant with this particular song because, as is often Cohen's tendency, the Biblical metaphors he uses to sing about life and romantic love gives the song layers that make it possible to interpret "Hallelujah" in a seemingly infinite number of ways. I won't go into much more detail about the song's history because, as I said, I've blogged on the song before.

The last time I blogged about the song I included various versions that are among my favorite covers, such as the immortal cover by Jeff Buckley (which is actually what many are covering when they perform the song) and the Rufus Wainwright version. However, as of the time I wrote that blog, I hadn't yet heard David Bazan perform the song, a moment that instantaneously pushed this particular performance to the top of my list.

There are many covers of the song that I love, but none have hit me with the force and depth of David Bazan's, due in large part to his choice of verses (which is actually the original version I believe) along with the desperation and subtle intensity with which Bazan performs.

Bazan's version somehow hits the heart of my faith, or perhaps my consistent lack thereof, as much as any other song I know. I'm sure part of it is the history of what Bazan's other songs have meant to me.

/i heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord/but you don't really care for music do you?/it goes like this, the 4th, the 5th, the minor fall, the major lift/the baffled king composing hallelujah/

I can't recall hearing a version of this song that doesn't begin with this same opening line. This beautiful, poetic description of a baffled King David composing what could only be described as 'Hallelujah'.  This idea resonates in me because in a way I relate to it.

There seems to me to be an undercurrent of redemption and beauty under all there is. Often I feel disconnected from this redemption and beauty, and attempting to reach out and touch it by choice is an almost sure way to miss it, but there are countless times when, without expecting it, I have been struck by an overwhelming sense of this beautiful secret hidden in all reality. At times, as with this series of music posts, I try to point out the places where this redemption and beauty appear to me so that I can share it somehow, so that maybe others can experience the feeling I had at unintentionally uncovering buried treasure. Usually these attempts are feeble and misguided, and yet somehow there are times, be it a preaching moment, or when something I've written has been a means of grace to someone else, or even just through a conversation with a friend, when I've been able to be a part of composing hallelujah. There is never a moment, during my part in this, where I could be described as anything other than baffled, and so this understanding of the baffled composing the very essence of hallelujah reminds me that this is the nature of things, it is mysterious and unquantifiable and strange.

/she broke your crown and cut your hair/she tied you to her kitchen chair/and from your lips she drew the hallelujahs/

/you say i took the name in vain/well i don't even know the name/and if i did/well, really, what's it to you?/

And yet, for all of these moments and discoveries, overwhelming doubt is a part of my life as frequently as (and at times, it seems, more frequently than) faith. We've all been crushed and had our 'glory' taken from us. Perhaps it was by those we loved, or by losing that which we cherished, or by pain of many kinds. It's so easy to lose that which makes us feel like ourselves, to forget who we are or to have sudden moments where we realize we never knew. Life constantly seems to throw things at us that break our crown, that leave us powerless, and that take the very hallelujahs from our lips, leaving us empty and without hope.

In these moments, I often rage at a God I feel I hardly know. I kick against the absence and darkness and loneliness that so often seem to be the hallmarks of my relationship with Jesus. And yet at times, it seems that these moments of darkness lead to a brokenness which, while I can't articulate why, I sense may be my only hope for redemption.

/cuz there's a blaze of light in every word/it does not matter which you heard/the holy or the broken hallelujah/

It seems the prosperity gospel most peddle on television and in books speaks of faith as if it is supposed to be an answer to our problems. We'll be happy and wealthy and free from stress and pain, and if not, it just means we don't have enough faith. Once we get rid of that last little bit of sin, once we learn to pray with a heart of faith, all those problems go away. Yet it would seem to me that a life where we were constantly happy and wealthy and free from stress and pain would leave us shallow and empty. Although, even with that said, the pain of this world is unevenly distributed, and to attempt to answer it with a glib "what doesn't kill us makes us stronger" type philosophy on life is full of holes. Pain is a mystery. And yet somehow, the only hope for making sense of it is that somehow it is in fact a part of our redemption. God has never explained to us why we suffer, why we are allowed to continue hurting, why children are allowed to pay so dearly for nothing. And yet, the understanding that Jesus is God means that while God doesn't tell us why suffering happens, he sanctified it as holy by coming down amongst our suffering and questioning and tears, saying to all who hurt, "Me too." I don't know how it works, and I avoid suffering as much as anyone I know, but somehow it really doesn't matter whether or not we hear "the holy or the broken hallelujah," because each is brimming with redemption.

Yet, while I write this, hoping for it to be true, I must admit that my suffering and, even more, the suffering of others, often makes it hard for me to believe. But of all the things that make it hard for me to believe there is truth in the Gospel, none strike a deadlier blow than my own life.

/i did my best, it wasn't much/i could not feel so i tried to touch/i told the truth, i did not come to fool you/and even though it all went wrong, i'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah... Hallelujah... Hallelujah/

The greatest argument I know against the transforming power of the Good News is my own seeming inability to be transformed. I fuck up so constantly. I hurt those I love, I am petty and selfish and lazy, I consistently cooperate with darkness and evil as opposed to Light, as opposed to the Kingdom.

And that is why it often makes me cry when Bazan cries out, with what feels to me as vulnerability and desperation: /And even though it all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah/. Because this is my only hope, that for all the miserable mistakes I make, for all the ugliness I unleash on those around me, for all the times I allow materialism and selfishness to keep me from doing the right thing, that it might be enough when I stand before the Lord of Song to simply cry out "Hallelujah" in my brokenness. To sing out, with my woefully inadequate singing voice, the broken hallelujah.

It strikes me as I write this that perhaps my theology is just a theology of wishful thinking. Maybe I'm just hoping against hope that there might be a place in the Kingdom for someone as screwed up as me. But perhaps it's 'too good not to be true,' to paraphrase C.S. Lewis. Maybe a God who truly knows us intimately understands that while the Gospel is madness, it is even crazier to expect anyone to become a part of the Kingdom if it costs any more than a broken, often half-hearted hallelujah. For my sake, I sure as hell hope that's true; and with the little I've learned about people in my lifetime, I think there's a good chance you do too.

This week's clip, after I missed last week completely, is a brand new trailer for Pixar's Wall-E, coming in June.

As I continue doing these music posts, there will undoubtedly be artists that have been particularly important to me in various ways who will inevitably end up making appearances multiple times. One example of this would be Tom Waits, who was the subject of the first ever official untitled music posts, and will certainly show up again from time to time.

I bring this up because this week’s band will be towards the very top of the list when it comes to repeat offenders. The band of which I’m speaking being U2.

This week’s song is actually three songs, taken from the recording of a live performance in Boston, Massachusetts. The clip was included on the band’s Electrical Storm single back in 2002, and the concert audio is from the band’s Elevation Tour.

Many who have seen U2 live refer to their experience there as ‘religious,’ and those who know much about U2 recognize that this is no accident. U2 has an uncanny ability to turn a stadium into a sanctuary, to turn an entire arena into an altar, all the while without the false religious theatrics and buzz words that officially “Christian market” bands often utilize. This three song medley of sorts is a prime example of U2 at the top of their game, and while I know that 12 minutes and 28 seconds is a long audio clip, I urge you friends to listen to the whole thing. Do it for me if for no other reason. The songs that make up this 12:28 are “Bad”, a brief piece of “40”, followed by “Where The Streets Have No Name”. Maybe you can open up another window and listen to the song while you read the text, that would probably save considerable time, and I imagine it would enhance whatever you might get out of the post.

As an aside, if it weren’t for Bono’s continued articulations of his faith, this clip alone would be enough to convince me that at the very least he was the unwitting instrument of the hand of God.

/if i could, you know i would/if i could i would let it go/surrender/dislocate/

/if i could/through myself/set your spirit free/i’d lead your heart astray/just to see you break/break away/into the light/

The clip begins with "Bad", which just so happens to be one of my favorite U2 songs (which for those who know me is saying a lot). When it comes to U2 songs, you can't pin them down to mean only one thing, even the most straightforward songs have taken on new meaning when the band performs them in new contexts. Yet, among other things, Bad is a song about addiction, brokenness and sin. It’s about being trapped in a cycle of self-abuse and destruction and being unable to free yourself. And it is also about being unable to free the one you love from their addiction, about finding ourselves ill-equipped to give someone else the strength and courage they need to break out of the darkness and into the light. The song doesn’t end with much hope aside from the reality that we are facing the darkness, we are aware of the deadliness and power of our addictions. We understand our powerlessness, and also how destructive our sin is to ourselves and those who love us. /I’m wide awake/I’m not sleeping/

Then, without hesitation, Bono’s cry of finally being wide awake moves into “40”, taken mostly from Psalm 40, as he leads the audience which has now become the congregation in a desperate plea to know how long we have to sing this song of brokenness and sin. And yet while the chorus they sing from “40” is a desire to know /how long to sing this song?/, the Psalm on which the song is based is a remembrance of God’s faithfulness. There is a shift from the hopelessness of our broken hearts toward a remembrance that God hears our cries and will deliver us from the darkness into new life.

Then Bono’s voice breaks off as the crowd, whether they realize the significance of their words or not, continues to cry out both in desperation, and in remembrance of God’s faithfulness. And they continue to sing, and at first, they are unaware of what is stirring in the background. The music is shifting behind their prayer of remembrance with a shift from “40” to “Where The Streets Have No Name,” a song about the Kingdom of God. “Where The Streets Have No Name” slowly starts to break in, much like the Kingdom it points to. It is subtle at first, and then it begins to take shape, its form taking on greater and greater complexity as it grows. And then the congregation realizes what’s happening. Seemingly as one, the crowd recognizes the song and begins to cheer its arrival. They do the only thing one truly can do in response to the Kingdom, they celebrate. And as the song continues to take its shape the celebration grows in pitch and intensity, until, over their voices, Bono begins to pray.

He prays from Psalm 116, closely referencing the way it appears in Eugene Peterson’s The Message: “What can I give back to God for the blessings he’s poured out on me? I’ll lift high the cup of salvation - a toast to God! I’ll pray in the name of God; I’ll complete what I promised God I’d do, and I’ll do it together with his people.” And by the end of this prayer, the song is in full swing, and the only thing left to do is join the party.

/i want to tear down the walls that hold me tonight/i want to reach out and touch the flame/where the streets have no name/i want to feel sunlight on my face/i see the dust cloud disappear without a trace/

/i’ll show you a place/with no sorrow and there’s no shame/where the streets have no name/

I’m not sure what else to say to articulate the way this moves me. When I listen to this final transition my eyes fill with tears, my heart welling up with a sense of joy it doesn’t normally know. So, in my lack of words I’ll simply point to how Bono closes out the song: “This is all we can do.” Because this is all we can do. All we can do in this world in which we are constantly exposed to darkness, is to celebrate those areas where we see light. All we can do in this valley where the shadow of death threatens to overwhelm, is to throw a party whenever the rays of new life touch our faces, dreaming of the day when finally the dust cloud will disappear and we will see clearly for the first time.

If nothing else, U2 reminds me that we can never forget the power of evil in this world, we can never close our eyes to the pain and suffering and darkness that fills our world. And yet they remind me that sometimes the best way to combat the evil in this world is to get together in as large a number as possible, dance like our lives depend on it (because they do), and sing at the top of our lungs about a day when our tears of sorrow will forever disappear, and shame will be a distant memory.

This is all we can do. Amen.

/if heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied/and illuminate the nos on their vacancy signs/if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks/then i'll follow you into the dark/

So it's time for another music post, these posts that it appears will never have a name. The song I decided to do this week isn't actually on the original list I came up with when I initially brainstormed to see if I could come up with enough songs off the top of my head to make starting the posts worthwhile. The song actually came to mind last night when I was hanging out with my friend Carl, as I told him about these particular posts I was doing.

The song is "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" by Death Cab For Cutie.

/no blinding light or tunnels to gates of white/just our hands/clasped so tight/waiting for the hint of a spark/

[Since I bought the song on iTunes it doesn't work on VOX, so I posted the video instead.]

There are a seemingly infinite number of songs out there about love. This is another one of those songs, but with the quirk that it is also about death. While it certainly isn't the only song about death and love, most songs dealing with these topics are about pain, heartache, loss and angst. Not so with singer/songwriter Ben Gibbard. Instead the song is sweet, and about as hopeful as a descent into utter darkness can be.

We hear Gibbard sing of the approaching death of his loved one, promising he won't be far behind. His promise includes that if by some chance heaven and hell are full and won't let anyone else in, he will follow his love into the darkness. For my money, this is a spot on articulation of what real love is. And when we look at the story of Jesus we see the story of a God who loves a suffering Creation and chooses to join them in their pain.

There is a story in Christian tradition that tells of Jesus going to hell between the time of his crucifixion and his resurrection. He went there to break down the gates and free those trapped there. Now, without getting into a discussion about the existence of hell or any of those issues, I still enjoy the story from the standpoint that Jesus was willing to go to the ugliest place imaginable to set captives free. So, this song makes me think of that same sort of idea, that somehow this mysterious unfathomable God would follow us into the darkness rather than exist without us in the light.

I suppose in the Cartesian world many people think we're still living in, there is no room for a love that can overcome even death. Fortunately, many are finally beginning to catch up to the reality that the idea of a purely material world that can be reduced again and again until we completely understand it all is a myth. There is room for mystery again. I truly hope it is true that somewhere in this mystery, somewhere in this space of nonlinearity and beauty, there really is a love that assures us that we won't be alone. That there truly is a God, who sings to us, who assures us we're understood in our pain and in the fear of our approaching death, and who promises us that we will not be alone and that we will be followed even into the darkest of places.

/the time for sleep is now/but it's nothing to cry about because we'll hold each other soon/

I don't know what your philosophy is on movies. Perhaps you are as pretentious as they come, or perhaps you enjoy the lowest possible forms of entertainment. What I do know is, this trailer makes me happy. 

This week I've posted an assortment of the G.I. Joe PSA parodies. This goes out to all the friends from undergrad who used to enjoy these with me.

It's 58 and sunny here in Seattle today. This day is gorgeous, and Seattle is a remarkably beautiful city in the sun.

I'm overwhelming thankful that I live here. I haven't experienced this large a release of endorphins since the Giants won the Super Bowl.