It was in this song that I heard -- really heard -- guitars for the first time.
Title: Brutal Planet
Artist: Alice Cooper
Album: Brutal Planet
Year: 2000
iTunes here; YouTube here (warning: fan-made lyric video -- contains language in some slides).
Chill-inducing live version (with theatrical intro) on YouTube here.
You all know of my fascination with keyboards/synthesizers ('80s in general), vocals (Rick Florian, Loyd Boldman), piano (David Meece, Keith Green), and bass guitar (Tim Chandler et al). But the guitar has never done anything for me. I tend to find the guitar overused and boring. I've never understood people who have a favourite guitar solo -- after a while they just all become a way to kill time and make the concert longer without necessarily making it better.
But the guitar work in this song blew me away. I literally got chills when I first heard this, and it was the guitar licks that did it. I've heard about Cooper's stage shows, but never seen one until I clicked the link to the live version on a lark. This set is so lavish. It's fantastic. And the lyrics are so spot-on. I'm willing to make the argument that it's harder to pick out (and find the point of) the words to a 'Christian' song (they're so mumbled and vague) than it was to pick out (and find the point of) the words at a bona-fide rock concert by a seasoned rock vocalist like Alice Cooper. It's food for thought, anyway.
But whatever your beliefs, this is darn good rock. Enjoy!
27 March 2015
14 March 2015
Missing
I just realised that I will never again not be missing someone. Whether it's people in another province or people in another world entirely... I will be missing somebody or someplace for the rest of my life.
When I'm in Alberta, I'll miss the people I worked with at college. When I'm here at college, I miss the people in Alberta. And no matter where I go I will always miss Brittney and Deb.
How do you live fully even though your soul is divided between joy in where you are and longing for where you aren't? How do you live to the fullest when there's always someone missing? I can spend the rest of my life being happy that I'm with 'this' group of people right now, even though others are missing, or I can spend the rest of my life unhappy because no matter who I'm with, somebody's missing.
College has expanded my heart and broken it. Perhaps it's a good thing. But sometimes this world seems unbearably sad.
13 March 2015
Music Day - Angel Falls
Named a novel after this one. I had been plotting the story and this song came on the Cephas Hour at the same time. (And your college English prof told you authors agonise over the meaning of any word, phrase, or title associated with their material. It's lies, I promise. Trust me… I'm an author. But I digress...)
When I first heard this song, I actually thought it was from the eighties (it's from 2013). The production totally does not sound overly loud, flat and generally obnoxious like most of today's songs -- and that, in my opinion, is a very good thing. Plus, that bassline (not necessarily eighties, just generally awesome).
The performer in me appreciates the loose theme -- a story of a girl being the star, the princess, all her dreams have come true… and the harsh reality in her quest for love, her loss of innocence. Thematically, it's ABBA's Thank You For The Music mini-musical meets Crumbächer's Jamie.
But ultimately the song is about a fall from grace. I think we can all relate to that.
Title: Angel Falls
Artist: Veil Of Ashes
Album: Eternal Teenage Angst
Year: 2013
Listen to and buy the song on Bandcamp here.
I needed this song tonight. I make my theatrical debut one week from today, as Mary Lennox (the main character) in The Secret Garden. This is the first official theatre production I've even been in, never mind in a lead role. It's a part I never honestly expected that I would get. I didn't think I was lead role material, especially since I didn't really have any acting experience at all. It's still surreal, and it's almost over.
We've been rehearsing this thing for a month and a half. Every night I fall farther behind on my homework, but I barely even notice or care because every night I've been surrounded by the magic of the stage. It's hard to describe to someone who's never experienced it. It's a totally different world on stage. We can get so totally wrapped up in that world that we forget reality (which is why I haven't been freaking out over the four papers I have to write this month). I especially identify with the subject of the song -- you get the sense that this is a previously unknown girl catapulted to fame, into a lead role. Sound familiar...? And then she falls -- in love? from grace? -- harder than she could have imagined. It's a little terrifying listening to these lyrics tonight even as I consider what I'm going to do with this newfound love of performing after I graduate next month.
When I first heard this song, I actually thought it was from the eighties (it's from 2013). The production totally does not sound overly loud, flat and generally obnoxious like most of today's songs -- and that, in my opinion, is a very good thing. Plus, that bassline (not necessarily eighties, just generally awesome).
The performer in me appreciates the loose theme -- a story of a girl being the star, the princess, all her dreams have come true… and the harsh reality in her quest for love, her loss of innocence. Thematically, it's ABBA's Thank You For The Music mini-musical meets Crumbächer's Jamie.
But ultimately the song is about a fall from grace. I think we can all relate to that.
Title: Angel Falls
Artist: Veil Of Ashes
Album: Eternal Teenage Angst
Year: 2013
Listen to and buy the song on Bandcamp here.
I needed this song tonight. I make my theatrical debut one week from today, as Mary Lennox (the main character) in The Secret Garden. This is the first official theatre production I've even been in, never mind in a lead role. It's a part I never honestly expected that I would get. I didn't think I was lead role material, especially since I didn't really have any acting experience at all. It's still surreal, and it's almost over.
We've been rehearsing this thing for a month and a half. Every night I fall farther behind on my homework, but I barely even notice or care because every night I've been surrounded by the magic of the stage. It's hard to describe to someone who's never experienced it. It's a totally different world on stage. We can get so totally wrapped up in that world that we forget reality (which is why I haven't been freaking out over the four papers I have to write this month). I especially identify with the subject of the song -- you get the sense that this is a previously unknown girl catapulted to fame, into a lead role. Sound familiar...? And then she falls -- in love? from grace? -- harder than she could have imagined. It's a little terrifying listening to these lyrics tonight even as I consider what I'm going to do with this newfound love of performing after I graduate next month.
20 February 2015
Music Day - Time
So this is a Swedish metal band which sang about Jesus. I ask you, does it get any better than this?
Swedish bands appeal to me (it's the former ABBA fangirl in me), and I love a good head-banging song every now and then (and by 'now and then' I mean 'like an hour every day'). This song in particular is overflowing with passion. Jerusalem was direct, lyrically, and that's always something I appreciate, both in music and in real life -- even if I don't agree with you, I would much rather you be honest with me.
Title: Time
Artist: Jerusalem
Album: In His Majesty's Service (Live In The USA)
Year: 1985
Label: Refuge Records
iTunes here; YouTube here.
I want to give you your freedom...
That line, right there. Chills, every time. One of my favourite screams in music, ever (Larry Norman's Messiah scream and Rick Florian's Babylon scream is right up there though).
Lift up your eyes
Your time has come
Lift up your hands
Accept what I've done
Accept what Jesus has done...
There's enough raw passion in the vocal to make these lines awe-inspiring rather than merely cliché. It's a song of pleading encouragement. I liken it to Undercover's Come Away With Me, only with more punch (especially in quantity -- the song runs well over six minutes).
Could it be that someone gave you the wrong impression of Me
For you are not condemned, you are loved
Loved by Me
I gave My life for you...
This song in particular also utilises enough synth to offset the crunching guitars (which can get monotonous after a while -- blasphemy, I know), but not enough to drown the song in the 1980s. Another thing I really like about this song from a musical standpoint is the varied rhythms and tempo. It's a bit of a progressive piece, but while it's well-executed, it doesn't take itself too seriously. It moves fast enough and the slow sections are short enough that the song doesn't lag.
Also, for a live recording, it's really clear and well-mixed. I actually did not know it was a concert recording until well after I bought the song. It's that well done.
Swedish bands appeal to me (it's the former ABBA fangirl in me), and I love a good head-banging song every now and then (and by 'now and then' I mean 'like an hour every day'). This song in particular is overflowing with passion. Jerusalem was direct, lyrically, and that's always something I appreciate, both in music and in real life -- even if I don't agree with you, I would much rather you be honest with me.
Title: Time
Artist: Jerusalem
Album: In His Majesty's Service (Live In The USA)
Year: 1985
Label: Refuge Records
iTunes here; YouTube here.
I want to give you your freedom...
That line, right there. Chills, every time. One of my favourite screams in music, ever (Larry Norman's Messiah scream and Rick Florian's Babylon scream is right up there though).
Lift up your eyes
Your time has come
Lift up your hands
Accept what I've done
Accept what Jesus has done...
There's enough raw passion in the vocal to make these lines awe-inspiring rather than merely cliché. It's a song of pleading encouragement. I liken it to Undercover's Come Away With Me, only with more punch (especially in quantity -- the song runs well over six minutes).
Could it be that someone gave you the wrong impression of Me
For you are not condemned, you are loved
Loved by Me
I gave My life for you...
This song in particular also utilises enough synth to offset the crunching guitars (which can get monotonous after a while -- blasphemy, I know), but not enough to drown the song in the 1980s. Another thing I really like about this song from a musical standpoint is the varied rhythms and tempo. It's a bit of a progressive piece, but while it's well-executed, it doesn't take itself too seriously. It moves fast enough and the slow sections are short enough that the song doesn't lag.
Also, for a live recording, it's really clear and well-mixed. I actually did not know it was a concert recording until well after I bought the song. It's that well done.
19 February 2015
Of Children, Death, and Healing
A little boy died in Ontario today.
He had wandered out of his grandparents' apartment in the middle of the night into a twenty-below-Celsius night in a t-shirt and boots. They found him six hours later, still alive but not in good shape. And tonight he died. A little three-year-old boy died. It's heartbreaking to think that twenty-four hours ago, his parents and grandparents thought he had another seventy or eighty years left in his life -- his whole life stretching out before him -- and now it's gone. And he died alone, lost, probably frightened, freezing in the snow in a minus-thirty windchill. No-one to hug him and tell him they loved him and he was safe. And yet he had two loving parents and two loving grandparents. How awful this must be for them. How truly horrible. Twenty-four hours ago they were a normal family with a normal little boy.
Tonight I was at a voice recital at the college and as much as I tried to focus on the singers, my attention kept drifting to the director of my program sitting across the seating area from me, holding his little girl on his lap. He had his arms around her, rocking her in time to the music, dropping kisses on her blond head at regular intervals. She was resting her head on his shoulder and I tried to remember when I was her age and size, sitting on my own dad's lap like that and suddenly I thought, Enjoy it while you can; don't forget this moment, and I almost burst into tears right there. I could not remember specifically ever sitting on my dad's lap. I was never really a sit-on-a-lap kind of kid. I was too busy doing something -- playing a story or dancing. I don't remember being little enough for that and I don't actually remember the feel of my head on my dad's shoulder and his arms around me, rocking me. I'm sure all those things happened. I've seen it with my younger siblings. But I don't remember it for me.
They provide translations for the songs in the program. There was one, some German piece from Brahms, and the translation talked about names fading on old gravestones. The gravestones read 'we were.' So final, so dismal, so full of sadness and regret for things that could not be regained or recaptured or relived. We were, but we are no longer. It is over. It is gone. And then something poetic happened and then the gravestones read 'we were healed' and I could only think of my friend Brittney.
Grieving her death is a funny thing. I miss her. I hate knowing I will never see her or talk to her again before I myself die. But I know her breathing was tortured here -- to what extent I don't know, but I do know it was labourious -- and now for the first time she can breathe easily. She died, but it was death that finally healed her. Yet that healing came at the expense of furthering our collective relationships with her as her friends and family. I'm glad that she is healed, but I miss her so much.
He had wandered out of his grandparents' apartment in the middle of the night into a twenty-below-Celsius night in a t-shirt and boots. They found him six hours later, still alive but not in good shape. And tonight he died. A little three-year-old boy died. It's heartbreaking to think that twenty-four hours ago, his parents and grandparents thought he had another seventy or eighty years left in his life -- his whole life stretching out before him -- and now it's gone. And he died alone, lost, probably frightened, freezing in the snow in a minus-thirty windchill. No-one to hug him and tell him they loved him and he was safe. And yet he had two loving parents and two loving grandparents. How awful this must be for them. How truly horrible. Twenty-four hours ago they were a normal family with a normal little boy.
Tonight I was at a voice recital at the college and as much as I tried to focus on the singers, my attention kept drifting to the director of my program sitting across the seating area from me, holding his little girl on his lap. He had his arms around her, rocking her in time to the music, dropping kisses on her blond head at regular intervals. She was resting her head on his shoulder and I tried to remember when I was her age and size, sitting on my own dad's lap like that and suddenly I thought, Enjoy it while you can; don't forget this moment, and I almost burst into tears right there. I could not remember specifically ever sitting on my dad's lap. I was never really a sit-on-a-lap kind of kid. I was too busy doing something -- playing a story or dancing. I don't remember being little enough for that and I don't actually remember the feel of my head on my dad's shoulder and his arms around me, rocking me. I'm sure all those things happened. I've seen it with my younger siblings. But I don't remember it for me.
They provide translations for the songs in the program. There was one, some German piece from Brahms, and the translation talked about names fading on old gravestones. The gravestones read 'we were.' So final, so dismal, so full of sadness and regret for things that could not be regained or recaptured or relived. We were, but we are no longer. It is over. It is gone. And then something poetic happened and then the gravestones read 'we were healed' and I could only think of my friend Brittney.
Grieving her death is a funny thing. I miss her. I hate knowing I will never see her or talk to her again before I myself die. But I know her breathing was tortured here -- to what extent I don't know, but I do know it was labourious -- and now for the first time she can breathe easily. She died, but it was death that finally healed her. Yet that healing came at the expense of furthering our collective relationships with her as her friends and family. I'm glad that she is healed, but I miss her so much.
15 February 2015
Pride and Fear
The life of a ridiculously imaginative but mediocre performer is a strange place. I so easily imagine myself as the best of the best -- or at least as a dark horse, quietly sitting by for the longest time before actually getting up the courage to stun all in attendance with my awesome hidden talent. So then when I finally do get up and muscle past the apprehension and actually try something, I'm shocked to hear how thin the voice in my throat actually sounds, how heavy my dancing really feels, how stilted and unnatural my acting actually is.
Being imaginative, I tend to play two roles in my mind. I play the part of myself, but I also play the part of the critical crowd -- I watch myself dance as I dance, seeing in my mind's eye the horrendous technique from the audience's perspective. By the time I get off the stage I'm exhausted, but only half of it was from physically dancing. The other half was spent simultaneously creating and fighting the critical voice.
This scenario is almost a continuous narrative through my brain. It plays out over and over again. The pride: "I'm at least as good as them. I'm just going to sit here and look content while they have the spotlight but I know very well I can take it," and the fear: "I can't do this, they're all so much better than me. They'll all see how terrible I really am. How can I have twelve years of dance experience and still be this terrible? How can I call myself a performer?" And is either right? Is it right to depend on the love of the audience for my self-worth? Whether I succeed and feed the pride or fail and feed the fear, I lose either way. I can't get away from both at the same time.
Being imaginative, I tend to play two roles in my mind. I play the part of myself, but I also play the part of the critical crowd -- I watch myself dance as I dance, seeing in my mind's eye the horrendous technique from the audience's perspective. By the time I get off the stage I'm exhausted, but only half of it was from physically dancing. The other half was spent simultaneously creating and fighting the critical voice.
This scenario is almost a continuous narrative through my brain. It plays out over and over again. The pride: "I'm at least as good as them. I'm just going to sit here and look content while they have the spotlight but I know very well I can take it," and the fear: "I can't do this, they're all so much better than me. They'll all see how terrible I really am. How can I have twelve years of dance experience and still be this terrible? How can I call myself a performer?" And is either right? Is it right to depend on the love of the audience for my self-worth? Whether I succeed and feed the pride or fail and feed the fear, I lose either way. I can't get away from both at the same time.
06 February 2015
Music Day - Hold Me Jesus
To all of those whose lives have changed irrevocably.
To those who have been shell-shocked by a sudden death.
To those who look at the future and see only fog.
To those who lie awake at night, heart racing.
Title: Hold Me Jesus
Artist: Rich Mullins
Album: A Liturgy, A Legacy, And A Ragamuffin Band
Year: 1993
23 January 2015
Music Day - Rift
This song was recorded in 1993. But in terms of mood (and genre), it could be mistaken for something from Skillet. Screaming, thrashing, rage, sickened disgust.
Title: Rift
Artist: Mortal
Album: Fathom
Year: 1993
Label: Frontline Records
Before I get to the links, PLEASE NOTE: (they say this at the beginning of the concept video, but I'm going to say it again here) The official music/concept video is pretty intense and a bit graphic. It deals with the subject of child abuse (in its many different manifestations). It's tactful about it and overall the video is quite well done, but it is rather intense and could also be a trigger for some people. (It's six minutes long and within the first minute there's a suicide by gun.) Please be aware of this before you watch the video.
The song itself does not make any actual mention of abuse. It is more concerned with the anger and forgiveness process in the victim, but does not get specific about how exactly the hurt has been inflicted.
The song itself does not make any actual mention of abuse. It is more concerned with the anger and forgiveness process in the victim, but does not get specific about how exactly the hurt has been inflicted.
iTunes here; YouTube (song only, no video) here. Official music video here (viewer discretion strongly advised).
All that said, the music video is very well done. It's quite a tour de force, skilfully weaving multiple angles of multiple stories, different perspectives, multiple concepts into one cohesive whole. I've read bestselling novels that had choppier plots than this music video. From an artistic standpoint, this is phenomenal. The scenes with the adults playing like children and the scenes with the adults 'frozen' -- they've never grown up -- and the children walking around them are chilling. I can't quite put it into words, but that's exactly what it is -- the adults frozen, caught in their ruts, and the children simply walking around, just waiting... waiting... waiting for something to change.
Ordinarily I would be appalled at the violence and dark undertones in the video, but in this case it absolutely serves the point they were making. It's meant to be a wake-up call, to force us to confront the issue and quit pretending it doesn't exist. The 'Christian community' would likely watch this video (if they even made it past the gun part) and whine, 'Why do you have to be so graphic? Why did you make it so sickening?'
Answer: Because you won't step in. You won't be a friend to the adults (and children) who need a loving, caring person in their lives. And this -- these horrific scenes -- are the consequences of your inaction.
You said you'd lift me up
You said you'd cover me
You said you'd nurse my cuts
You stare and watch me bleed...
***
All of the above was written about two years ago.
Yesterday, after having pretty much forgotten this song existed, I suddenly remembered and subsequently revisited it. Twice. And a different phrase arrested my attention this time.
Sometimes our broken hearts are healed
The moment we believe again...
And it was apparently important enough that they repeated it. I wondered when I first heard it why they repeated it. It seemed odd to me, especially coming after so much anger. But now I think they repeat it so that the words could properly sink in.
Sometimes our broken hearts are healed
The moment we believe again...
In the past six months, people very close to me -- people I love dearly -- have been involved in separation/divorce, developed serious cancer, been emotionally hurt, and some have lied to me. Two of the deepest, hardest-hitting incidents were within two days of each other. And I gave up. I had been praying for months about these things, and finally, when those two particular incidents came up back-to-back, I threw my hands in the air and said, "Why am I still praying to a God who doesn't care?" The fact that I was thinking this terrified me, but there it was. And I've been in a weird in-between state since. I want to believe God cares, but on the other hand I think, 'yeah, well, if He did care, He would at least show me He could fix this.'
In a nutshell, I have become jaded and bitter, and I can almost feel my heart hardening inside me. It is terrifying. And throughout the past couple of days there has been the question of trust -- you're bitter at this person for not trusting you. Are you really any better than them? You're mad at this person for having a heart of stone. Is yours really any softer? But still I fight -- "but You don't care that my family is falling apart and You won't let me help the ones here who are hurting!"
And then this song came, those lyrics. Did they fix everything? Heck no. But it offered a challenge, a burr on the slope of polished slate that I'm sliding down... will you believe again? Will you trust Me one more time with your heart so I can fix it? It made me stop and think. That's one thing that I like in music -- a lyric profound enough to stop me in my tracks. And it was perfectly hidden in a loud, raging industrial song that I was only listening to because it sounded angry and I needed to listen to something angry to match how I felt. If it had been in a Silverwind song I would not have heard it yesterday when I needed it. I was so upset over the whole state of affairs that slow, happy music was making me even angrier. Props to Mortal for tucking that observation in an angry song where it's probably needed most.
***
All of the above was written about two years ago.
Yesterday, after having pretty much forgotten this song existed, I suddenly remembered and subsequently revisited it. Twice. And a different phrase arrested my attention this time.
Sometimes our broken hearts are healed
The moment we believe again...
And it was apparently important enough that they repeated it. I wondered when I first heard it why they repeated it. It seemed odd to me, especially coming after so much anger. But now I think they repeat it so that the words could properly sink in.
Sometimes our broken hearts are healed
The moment we believe again...
In the past six months, people very close to me -- people I love dearly -- have been involved in separation/divorce, developed serious cancer, been emotionally hurt, and some have lied to me. Two of the deepest, hardest-hitting incidents were within two days of each other. And I gave up. I had been praying for months about these things, and finally, when those two particular incidents came up back-to-back, I threw my hands in the air and said, "Why am I still praying to a God who doesn't care?" The fact that I was thinking this terrified me, but there it was. And I've been in a weird in-between state since. I want to believe God cares, but on the other hand I think, 'yeah, well, if He did care, He would at least show me He could fix this.'
In a nutshell, I have become jaded and bitter, and I can almost feel my heart hardening inside me. It is terrifying. And throughout the past couple of days there has been the question of trust -- you're bitter at this person for not trusting you. Are you really any better than them? You're mad at this person for having a heart of stone. Is yours really any softer? But still I fight -- "but You don't care that my family is falling apart and You won't let me help the ones here who are hurting!"
And then this song came, those lyrics. Did they fix everything? Heck no. But it offered a challenge, a burr on the slope of polished slate that I'm sliding down... will you believe again? Will you trust Me one more time with your heart so I can fix it? It made me stop and think. That's one thing that I like in music -- a lyric profound enough to stop me in my tracks. And it was perfectly hidden in a loud, raging industrial song that I was only listening to because it sounded angry and I needed to listen to something angry to match how I felt. If it had been in a Silverwind song I would not have heard it yesterday when I needed it. I was so upset over the whole state of affairs that slow, happy music was making me even angrier. Props to Mortal for tucking that observation in an angry song where it's probably needed most.
16 January 2015
Music Day - Backyard Changes
This is how I like my pop songs -- fun musically, but not insipid lyrically.
Musically: well, come on, it's Crumbächer. What do you expect besides keyboard? And I, for one, wouldn't have it any other way. The sax is a bit overdone at the end, but aside from that it's Crumbächer pop goodness as you've always known it.
Lyrically: This is easily as hard-hitting as anything with Steve Taylor's name on it. But while Taylor tends to look at societal ills, here Crumbächer takes a slightly more introspective view.
It starts out as your general older-teenage-angst song, sympathising with the frustrations of every sixteen or seventeen year old:
Nothing ever changes
In your own backyard
So you wanna get out when you can
You say your folks don't understand
You wanna make a difference...
Oh, I know. I've been there. I've felt trapped in my own home. I've raged against the four walls of my bedroom, feeling like my parents didn't care that I wanted a break from the pressure of being the perfect oldest.
But while Stephen Crumbacher offers sympathy, he also brings up a good point:
You wanna make a difference
But you'd better start
Closer to the heart
With some backyard changes...
That is, if you can't (or won't) make a difference in your own neighbourhood/school/workplace, what makes you think you'll make a difference anywhere else? If you leave your backyard, you'll still be the same person, just in a different place.
Title: Backyard Changes
Artist: Crumbächer
Album: Thunder Beach
Year: 1987
09 January 2015
Music Day - Glory Battle
We've had this album since it came out, but it was only over July that I really listened to this song (or the whole album, really). This song in particular appeals to my classical ballet mind. It's the dance of a fight between good and evil, between angels and demons, both clawing for the same soul.
Last March, while recovering from strep throat, I read Frank Peretti's This Present Darkness, and that book has stuck in my head, both as a reader and as a writer. As a reader, I enjoyed the story -- the soft-spoken unrelenting faith of the pastor, the confusion and determination of the newspaper manager, the spunk and pluck of the reporter, the self-righteousness of the church deacons, the rebellious attitude of the daughter, the strategising between the demons and the angels... it was one of the most engaging things I've ever read. I literally read the entire thing cover to cover in one night. As a writer, I appreciated the colourful detail in every scene -- rich without being overdone -- as well as the subtle humour employed throughout. Even in very serious scenes, one careful turn of phrase, one character's well-timed glance could send me into a fit of laughter. Peretti has a gift -- I've never seen anything like that anywhere else, and I used to read quite a bit of this genre (back when I had time to read for pleasure).
Shortly after I read that book, I began thinking: what it would be like to stage that story, as a dance? You would need music for that, of course, but provided I could find a composer... could I do it? Could I portray the characters without speech and wearing ballet slippers? I haven't answered that question yet, but now that the germ of the idea is in my head, I sometimes find a little something that might fit in the dance version of the story... this song is one of those.
(Trivia: This same artist has actually written an instrumental song based on This Present Darkness (source: album liner notes) in 1988. The song, Ashton, is on the album i 2 (EYE). Music Day post here.)
Title: Glory Battle
Artist: Michael W. Smith
Album: Glory
Year: 2011
Label: Provident
iTunes here; YouTube here.
Besides the music of David Meece (and Pachelbel's Canon In D), this is probably the closest I get to classical music. It's not that I don't like it, it's just that it always seems so stuffy and elitist (kind of like some of us 'Jesus Music' fans, come to think of it...), and I can never keep track of all the composers and the names and variations of their works. But this piece is amazing. It's sweeping, majestic, strong, rushing -- it sounds exactly like a battle. There's the start, and then the initial battle, and then someone retreats and the music turns mournful... then clear and a little hopeful. The sides regroup, and suddenly there's a thunderous second assault. It's enough to make me want to get into more classical music. (Feel free to make suggestions in the comments!)
I love the string parts in this song. They contribute so much tension to the piece.
(Trivia: This same artist has actually written an instrumental song based on This Present Darkness (source: album liner notes) in 1988. The song, Ashton, is on the album i 2 (EYE). Music Day post here.)
Title: Glory Battle
Artist: Michael W. Smith
Album: Glory
Year: 2011
Label: Provident
iTunes here; YouTube here.
Besides the music of David Meece (and Pachelbel's Canon In D), this is probably the closest I get to classical music. It's not that I don't like it, it's just that it always seems so stuffy and elitist (kind of like some of us 'Jesus Music' fans, come to think of it...), and I can never keep track of all the composers and the names and variations of their works. But this piece is amazing. It's sweeping, majestic, strong, rushing -- it sounds exactly like a battle. There's the start, and then the initial battle, and then someone retreats and the music turns mournful... then clear and a little hopeful. The sides regroup, and suddenly there's a thunderous second assault. It's enough to make me want to get into more classical music. (Feel free to make suggestions in the comments!)
I love the string parts in this song. They contribute so much tension to the piece.
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