Before diving into my Top 5 of 2016, let's lay down a couple ground rules. First of all, for the sake of opening up the options to include some great selections, this list will not be limited to songs that were released in 2016, but all those from the artist's most recent album (or subsequent release), thus more eligible for frequent radio play, streaming, and other features in 2016. That takes me to my next point. Popularity, or lack thereof, is irrelevant. In fact, whether or not the song was released as a single is also irrelevant. In the age of digital streaming, does it matter which songs are singles anyway, once the album is released and people can look up whatever they want in many cases? Lastly, there is no requirement of whether the song or artist is classified as "Christian" or "secular." If it is secular, it must be more than simply a catchy tune. And if it is Christian, it must be more than simply a hymn or "praise and worship" song, but must represent the in-depth and meaningful interaction between the artist's faith and the human condition. This is not meant to imply that the more straight forward hymns or "praise and worship" songs are necessarily lesser, but simply that they do not pertain as much to the topic of this blog, which is the meaningful interaction between faith and pop culture. So, let's begin. Narrowing this list to five was very difficult. So I decided not to push it, and tacked two honorable mentions onto the beginning.
Honorable Mention: When We Were Young by Adele
I have often said that when an artist who one has followed, and who is an honest songwriter, releases a new album, it's like an opportunity to catch up with an old friend. It might be their new best album. It might not. But, part of it's value is found not only in being the new best album ever, but in the fact that a songwriter who strives to share themselves has given us all a glimpse at the current state of their life... And sometimes all of that might be true, even though the songwriter is also pure diva. Adele captures this "catching up with an old friend" notion quite effectively, with her decision to name her albums simply after her age at the time. It's like a way of saying, "This album is just what's new in my life right now." She also captures it in charming ways, like opening the album (and the first single, at that) with a simple "Hello. It's me. I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet..." As this latest album continues, if I were asked to propose a title, other than her age, I would suggest "Gradually Becoming Whole." While 25 still features a number of the sort of odes to heartbreak, which were so characteristic to 21, and which also have been characteristic of a number of other divas like Taylor Swift and Pat Benatar, it offers us a glimpse of someone who is moving forward and striving toward healing, growth, and maturity. While a number of songs on the album capture this well, the element of growth and maturity seems to come across very clearly in "When We Were Young." Yet, one of the most intriguing dimensions of the song is its irony, as a closer listen makes it seem to be more of a snapshot of how a nostalgic longing for what once was can actually stunt our growth, maturity, and healing.
Honorable Mention: Where the Light Shines Through by Switchfoot
It would have been a shame to produce this list and neglect the soundtrack to the journey of hope and healing, which is the latest Switchfoot album, Where the Light Shines Through. I think it is fair to say that Switchfoot's breakout album, The Beautiful Letdown, plays as almost a sort of thesis statement for the band, upon which they have continued to expound over the years. Ever since then, they have continued to serve up albums and songs which give us reflections upon "the already, but not yet," the tension between this life and the next. Some moments seem to emphasize more "the already" of this life, while others turn our hearts more toward "the not yet" of the fullness of the Kingdom of God, in Heaven. Along the way, they have managed to capture the grittiness and mess of the human experience, in which the journey toward the next life often leaves us broken and in need of healing. And they have often captured it with both an honesty and a hopefulness that is deserving of respect by both believers and non-believers alike. This latest installment speaks of this reality in a way that seems to invite us to join them as they peal off another layer and begin to discover a new depth to this beautiful mystery we call brokenness and healing, which softly breathes out a song that might have seemed impossible. We may call that song HOPE. This comes across very clearly, as they employ a technique they have used in a number of past albums, of beginning and ending the album on precisely the same note or thought. This time, that thought is "Hope deserves an anthem," and finally "Hope is the anthem." Beautiful. In the space between this beginning and ending, we find a blend of more upbeat songs like "Float," "Bull in a China Shop," and "If The House Burns Down Tonight," which - beware! - may get stuck in your head and never leave, and also the mellower tracks like "I Won't Let You Go," and "Live it Well." Yet, for me, the song that stands out the most is one that, stylistically, might be said to rest somewhere in the middle, with a Tom-Petty-like groove: the title track, "Where The Light Shines Through." This song, in a very simple, yet significant manner presents the concept and image driving the album: the wound is where the light shines through. It is often the places where we are most broken that we see hope break in, like a dawn over a desolate land.
#5: Hiding Place by Josh Garrels
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| A convenient mishearing of Josh Garrels ("Rise") by someone who has not had their morning coffee.* |
This new single resembles something powerful about Josh's previous album Love & War & the Sea In Between. Whereas his most recent album, Home, is more chill and... well, homey sounding, not only did Love & War & the Sea In Between have a greater diversity of sounds and styles, like it's predecessor, Jacaranda, it also had a different overall tone running through it, expressed both musically and lyrically. Not only did it sound like honest and thoughtful folksy singer-songwriter music, there was something about that music that sounded epic, even dare I say, apocalyptic. Yes, I will dare to say it, especially with songs like "Revelator," which employed very clear apocalyptic imagery. The new single, "Hiding Place," revisits that same tone, which is simultaneously honest, relate-able, and epic. On the surface, it seems to be a simple tale about a woman and her child seeking refuge, amidst the dangers and toils of this broken world. It taps into the anxiety which touches so many hearts, seeking refuge, peace and security in this world filled with so much madness. And yet, upon a closer listen, it begins to become clear (to those familiar with the Scriptures) where he has devised this imagery from: the 12th chapter of the Book of Revelation. Besides being a personal favorite of mine, the 12th chapter is one of great importance, incredibly rich both spiritually and theologically. While the woman represents both Mary and the Church, the dragon attacking her and her Child simultaneously represents Herod and the Devil and our own temporal threats, which threaten both her Child (Christ) and her children (us). By drawing on this imagery, he has employed the great value of apocalyptic literature in a very effective way. Not only does it offer us a glimpse of heaven, wherein lies our hope, it uses bold and shocking imagery in a way that illumines our own experiences of trial and difficulty. This enables us both to see how our own lives, even our trials, enable us to enter into the mysteries of Christ and offer us the hope of His final victory. With this song, Josh touches upon our deepest fears and anxieties and also shows where to go to find our true refuge.
#4: There Will Be Time by Mumford & Sons and Baaba Mal
I have a friend from my seminary years who would often repeat the phrase "nothing is new under the sun." At first, it took these words as being very negative and disparaging, especially as it would apply to the work of artists, authors and all called to create. Yet, as I began to see the value of traditions within which people work, I began to recognize that originality is a pretty poor choice for a highest value after which to strive. Over time, I came to understand those words as words of perspective, pointing us toward a Truth and Beauty which transcends all created things. I think it's in this sense that the words are employed in Scripture, specifically in the Book of Ecclesiastes. Over the years, a number of artists have picked up on this perspective, not simply the apparent despair, found in the Book of Ecclesiastes. Most famously, the song "Turn! Turn! Turn!", written by Pete Seeger, made famous by The Byrds, and covered by a number of others, draws directly upon the words of Ecclesiastes. This beloved old song captures the peace, acceptance and even hope that can be found by acknowledging the sometimes cyclical nature of life, and also wondering at the wisdom of providence. Yet, the broader context in which the same words of Scripture are found, takes us first through acknowledging the futility of striving after the things of this life - even after worldly wisdom - before arriving at the new perspective and the peace, acceptance and hope that come with it. This fuller meaning is captured even more effectively, I think, by the recent collaboration between Mumford & Sons & Baaba Maal, "There Will Be Time." I am glad that I kept giving this song another listen. Initially, I was not wowed by it. I did not even immediately notice the connection to Ecclesiastes. Yet, there was something about it that kept me coming back. Eventually, I began to hear within it the cries of men, a little beaten and bruised, who have struggled through the futility of going through life, often without perspective, yet coming out the other side with a new sense of purpose. This purpose is derived from striving to live not for ourselves, but for another.
#3: I Feel Good by Levv
Audrey Assad's side project with Seth Jones, under the name Levv, has been a great gift to those of us who saw her depth and talent as a songwriter in her early days. Recently, she has taken a turn toward devoting her solo work to hymns and other songs that are more exclusively theological and spiritual. And this has produced some beautiful things. Yet, her first two albums also showed her great gifts as an honest songwriter who shares her heart vulnerably and brings her faith into direct contact with both the brokenness and the abiding hope of the human condition. Thankfully, these gifts have found new expression with Levv, which has already produced some very interesting and beautiful songs. Furthermore, I think Seth Jones has helped her to find a more diverse sound, especially for the more upbeat tracks, that both sounds more intriguing and seems surprisingly natural for her compared with some of her earlier recordings. Among all of these songs, "I Feel Good" stands out most for me. I suppose it is quite possible for one to have a similar experience to mine upon a first listen through Levv's Strange Fire EP. Half listening, not catching many lyrics, suddenly you may find yourself dancing to a sweet little bridge that sounds ripped right out of the 80's. So, you glance at the track list and, then, as the beat drops a second time, you think, "Dang, this girl does feel good!" But, then, you pay closer attention the next time the track comes back around and your heart drops. "Oh, she doesn't feel good at all. She simply has become numb to the pain." In fact, this is the song in which we finally have a clear and vivid description of the depths of her pain, both in the lyrics and in the haunting tone of the first half of the song. And what is the source of her feeling good - or rather her numbness? "I've got a pill waiting for me at the end of the day." The moment the beat drops no longer seems a moment of genuine joy, but more likely the moment the pill kicks in and starts to take effect. It is hard to tell precisely what the pill is. Perhaps it is an actual pill, or perhaps it is one of any number of attachments or addictions we can retreat into, in order to hide. Perhaps it is even something good, which may be genuinely therapeutic, perhaps it could be her piano and the opportunity to create beautiful music. Still, however therapeutic something may be, if it is merely a pill, an escape from reality designed to mask the pain, it offers an illusion. {It is important to note that I am not implying that music is necessarily an escape from reality, as the very premise of this blog is that art can be a companion to reality, bearing great meaning.} As the song closes by mellowing back into the euphoric bliss of her insistence that she feels good, it begins to become all too clear that beneath this mask, the wound still festers. It seems that no happy ending comes in this song, but only as it leads into a song about being pierced by something that genuinely awakens hope and brings new meaning into her life ("Arrow"), and ending on a new resolution that speaks of genuine peace ("Learning To Let Go"). And if you have the album on repeat, you may now notice that it began on a note of learning to find hope in, and even to love, her "Darkness." Yet, as this leads into the most gleeful, yet equally
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| When the man's right, he's right. |
#2: Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos
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| Get it? Worm-Would?* |
#1: Happiness by NeedToBreathe
Speaking of how the enemy lies to us, it is important to remember that, since he cannot create, he has a way of distorting what is good, hijacking our best intentions. One place in which we see this is when we find ourselves wrestling with the sometimes fine line between magnanimity and selfish ambition. When God grants someone a magnanimous heart, they recognize within themselves that "I've got dreams that keep me up in the dead night, Telling me I wasn't made for the simple life." They have a huge heart, that is bursting with a gift of greatness they know they are called to give to the world, in order to point them toward the One who gave it to them. Yet, the enemy will seek to distort this call to greatness into selfish ambition. In that case, that man or woman may soon find themselves singing, "I'm asking you to show me some forgiveness." NeedToBreathe's last album explored the aftermath of how losing perspective and allowing their good intentions to be clouded and eventually transformed (think "Difference Maker") into selfish ambition takes a toll on relationships, which will need to be healed (think "Brother"). This new album, Hardlove, seems to continue that same process of healing relationships. One key difference is the added emphasis on the realization of how much work these relationships require, which is especially clear in the title track, which could also have easily made this list. However, another difference seems to be that this album seems to shift the focus from their relationships with each other as brothers, to that of the spouse(s). In fact, the title track seems to introduce the concept of the love that requires sacrifice, in a manner that could be easily applied as much to a spouse as to Christ. This dual meaning seems to be found in a number of songs on the album. Yet, the album also features a number of beautiful love ballads, such as the tragic "No Excuses", as well as "Be Here Long" and "Let's Stay Home Tonight." Yet, the last of these love songs, "Clear," seems to reveal the writer's newfound perspective of renewed and deepened commitment to his vocation to marriage. Yet, the centerpiece of this journey of selfishness, brokenness, healing and finally commitment to the other is "Happiness." This centerpiece shows the man wrestling with that confusion between magnanimity and selfish ambition. It will become clear in the final three tracks of the album that he has begun to realize that the greatness he has been seeking, the call to give of himself in extraordinary ways, is fulfilled in the intimacy of his vocation. This conclusion is foreshadowed in its turning point, as he follows up his apology, with the confession, "It's all for you in my pursuit of happiness." This song represents profoundly the struggle along the journey toward discovering two key differences between the magnanimous and the proud: first, the magnanimous are humble and second, they are happy. And apparently, they are also write of their experience in a way that just makes you wanna dance!
* = From the creative mind of my esteemed co-worker at St. Joseph's Newman Center, at Bradley University, and master of puns, Sam Mangieri III.