The Sound of Stupid

I have a confession to make: I hate Christian rock.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that music, like art and literature, is a highly subjective experience, and we all have our individual cups of tea. Some like Cubism, others prefer the Old Masters. Some people read German Romantics, others adore science fiction. You get the picture.

When it comes to “worship music”, I guess I’m something more of a traditionalist. Gregorian chant is great. Rachmaninov’s All Night Vespers is sublimely beautiful. Barber’s Agnus Dei moves me to the depths of my being. And Howard Goodall’s setting of Psalm 23 (used, incidentally, as the theme music for the wonderful British comedy series, The Vicar of Dibley) is too lovely for words.

Yet, before you begin thinking I’m some dreary stuffed shirt with no sensibility for the modern, let me state quite categorically that I am very fond of Mr Mister’s song Kyrie (yeah, okay, that was back in the 80’s, I’m just making the point that I don’t have some “in principle” objection to combining rock music with religion). It’s just that my qualm is that while Christian rock might be “worship music”, there’s not much of it that’s actually sacred.

Now, I know that the appeal of much Christian rock is that it is “fun”, and introduces people to the “joy” of faith. Yet, I can never shake the suspicion that this apparent “joy” is not so much elevation as “ecstasy” – that is, a superficial, temporary mood alteration that has little to do with the experience of faith and everything to do with tinkering with our emotions.

The proof of the pudding for me is to be found in the lyrics. Have you ever noticed how lame the words to most Christian rock songs are? Sure, the music might be toe-tappingly good (hey, I’m not saying it’s all bad) but the words sound as though they were composed by some gawky adolescent writing an anonymous love letter to some girl he secretly admires. I mean, please! Where's the mystery? Where's the sense of the inscrutible, the divine, that which is greater than the sum of who we are, and to which we aspire?

Take, by contrast, any of the pieces I cited above: not only are they profoundly moving, they instill a real sense of joy – solemnity and elevation all at once, and in depth, too. Not that I’m a fan of many of the hoary old hymns that one is often obliged to sing at church. It’s just that I think there is a real difference between “worship music” and “sacred music”. And it’s a qualitative, not merely functional, difference.

So call me old fashioned if you will, I can take it. Sergei and I are off to have a conversation with the divine.

Talk to you soon,

BB