Empire vs. One Wild Life/Soul: CCM and Why I Can't Listen To It

2015 is shaping up to be a good year for music. Already we've had immense and game-changing releases from the likes of Kendrick Lamar, Sufjan Stevens, My Morning Jacket, Tame Impala, and Wilco. This year we can expect our horizons to be further expanded by Foals, St. Vincent, and (as I go into giddy fan mode), Radiohead. It's easy in the midst of this to forget that there is a good deal of art out there that recognizes the intensely spiritual side of our human journey. Lamar and Stevens' latest efforts are obvious choices for those artists not being played in church settings (although they arguably could). But more on that later. My concern is to look back through the realm of contemporary sacred music from across traditions to see just how our Christian faith shapes our expressions today.

Unfortunately, much of the landscape is bleak. I've had my issues with the label "Christian" as applied to music, and I would agree with Michael Gungor that applying it to anything other than a person or community is absurd and inappropriate. For our purposes we'll describe this landscape of music as roughly organized into two different circles, with varying degrees of overlap. The first is the one we're most familiar with: the list of established songwriters, worship leaders, and singers who have made an impact on our music, especially in the evangelical church tradition. Names like Chris Tomlin, Michael W. Smith, and Matt Redman come to mind. Their impact is such that they still regularly headline major worship conferences, tours, and events, even though most of them have been in the business for decades. Their influence helped launch our current world of Contemporary Christian Music, or CCM for short. This circle powers an entire industry based around song licensing, radio broadcasting, tours, and a guaranteed media exposure that is available even to people without smartphones and cable subscriptions. For whatever problems CCM might represent, one can't help but be impressed by the influence it wields. The second circle is considerably smaller, but just as vital. These are musicians, songwriters, and groups who truly turn the inspiration of their faith into art, an expression that is inherently meaningful apart from whether it can be easily sung along with, makes people feel good, or has digestible theology. Oddly, though many of these artists would never be played on CCM radio, their lyrics contain more orthodox and direct descriptions of God than their counterparts on the big worship circuits. Though you won't be hearing their songs in church (unless you invite me to lead worship), it is worth investigating, especially as social media enables us to access their art much more easily.

Perhaps some examples are in order. I could weigh the strengths and weaknesses of each of these circles all day and still admit that I am clearly biased. I'm okay with that because it comes down to a simple reality in the end: the music is simply better when it is treated with respect as an art form, not taken to advance a particular message or to create an experience. I cannot objectively say that CCM is "worse music" than the other artists outside that circle, but I can point to some very strong reasons that we should seriously consider the type of music we consume, even if we assume it is in line with our deepest convictions.

I'll use two albums released very recently to illustrate my point, much as I did to describe the goings-on of the Americana music landscape. They are Hillsong United's Empires and Gungor's One Wild Life: Soul.

Although I'll begin to talk about Hillsong I want to give them a big disclaimer and explain why I place them in the CCM category. I will be the first to admit I've had some intimate moments with God alongside their music, and count some of their older hits as dear to my heart. Both "From the Inside Out" and "The Stand" are simple and relatively clutter-free expressions of longing for God. If there is one theme running through the Australian megachurch's music, it is surrender. They are at their strongest when the expression is direct (see "Fire Fall Down" and "I Surrender"), and at their worst when cluttered by nonsensical and quasi-biblical imagery (see "Hosanna" and the ubiquitous "Oceans"). As for musical progression, they long walked the line of electric arena rock with dynamic changes and hooks ready for vamps that could last, well, a long time. Though some groups have taken this trend and abused it to a fault, other mainstream CCM folks have adapted it into their own worship output. A major breakthrough for Hillsong came with their 2013 release Zion, which opened not with chiming, delay-inflected guitars, but with blaring synthesizers and drum machines. Even though the opening track is perhaps a blatant ripoff of M83, it signaled a refreshing change in the group's trajectory and at least indicated the group was willing to take stylistic risks. Though other groups in the CCM circle have been using drum machines and loops creatively for years now (David Crowder is the best example), they launched the blaring bass and swooping effects into the forefront. I wondered if they would continue the trend of exploration into their latest album, curiously packaged with art that resembles an upside-down American flag. Would there be political undertones? Certainly the Reign of God is an affront to the Western consumerism our societies are built on (yeah Australia, you're the only country in the world that handily beats us Americans on per-capita carbon emissions). Would they move to a more collective consciousness, especially because their music is so beloved around the world?

Man, I was disappointed. And I should have seen it coming. Most of Empires seems to capitalize on the reality that their most successful single to date, "Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)" did not have the same emphasis on electronic instrumentation or experimentation that the rest of the album have. It was a meditative, downtempo song ready for singing as a congregation. And it was, not just in the evangelical world. I hear this song regularly at my home church (a Catholic parish) and have heard it at liberal mainline congregations and conservative Baptist churches alike. The simplicity and message that song ushered in was bathed in vague imagery ("...when oceans rise...") and fiercely individualistic lyrics (...Spirit lead me...my feet...you call me, etc. etc.). Empires begins not aggressively but gently, a swelling of strings undergirded by a synth line that fades into a single Rhodes piano, later joined by the familiar guitar arpeggios. The two most obvious singles, "Heart Like Heaven" and "Touch the Sky" are similarly interested in keeping our eyes "above the waves" and focused on the transcendent, rather than immanent, God. Though these songs are perhaps stronger than others in terms of the music, I can't hear many churches adding them to their regular worship retinue. What of the actual title track? It is finally on "Empires" that we get to sing the name Jesus, in an album woefully short of his name, even on the track "Prince of Peace." Yet instead of the systemic implications of that word even to casual biblical scholars, we get a description of the empires "of dirt and grace/caught in this holy flame." Not only does this mix metaphors, since we're talking about surrendering to the true king later in the song, but it misses perhaps the strongest message that Jesus himself brought to the table in his context. Hillsong had the chance to bring this message to the forefront of the industry, since their influence is truly that strong. But they blew it. If this trend continues they will impose this intensely personalized Jesus and package it to the millions that flock to their concerts around the world, amounting to what one of my Asian American colleagues calls "musical colonization." The CCM industry is already riven with shady business practices and a deplorable ignorance of the actual Christian social horizons. This is why, to look for genuine art that can point us to Jesus as well as appreciate intrinsically, we have to look elsewhere.

For a counterpoint, I offer one of my favorite and consistently excellent artists, Gungor. Headed by the ex-worship leader of a charismatic youth movement, years of being written off for his frank commentary and decisions to eschew the Christian music industry in favor of independent production and *gasp* the use of non-Christian labels for release, Michael Gungor and his wife Lisa are not afraid to offer their hearts, minds, and talents in the service of good art, which should, I will argue, speak for itself. Yes, there are other artists out there who I appreciate and love for their music, some of which could even be considered explicit worship. The Brilliance, Audrey Assad, and the short-lived New York Hymns come to mind as examples that you should definitely check out. But I digress.

Recently Gungor announced his latest, probably most ambitious project to date. They'll release three full length albums in the next twelve years under the banner One Wild Life. The first of these, Soul, is due sometime in early August and started streaming at Relevant this week. Before digging into this album, I'll describe their music over the past five years that they've dropped the "Michael" and "Band" from their name. Beautiful Things brought a new mood to the band fresh from reminding us that God is not a white man. The title track was blasted on the radio, curious in that the song, and much of the album, deals frankly with pain and suffering. My favorite remains the Augustinian poem "Late Have I Loved You" and the aching "You Have Me." Next year came the earth-hued and exuberant Ghosts Upon The Earth, with frenetic folk instrumentation alongside electronic tinges that hinted at the cosmic scope covered by the music. Highlights are the monumental "Let There Be" and the moody "Crags and Clay." Here Gungor is able to flex his solid songwriting chops as well as deft musicianship. He whips out both jazz guitar and classical motifs in intricate and creative ways. After a period of intense media scrutiny and some backlash on his comments, Gungor retreated from the spotlight, releasing I Am Mountain in 2013. It is sparse and spacey by comparison, and makes one wonder if the band got lost in the journey. The album doesn't resolve with any answers (but then again, it doesn't need to). What was clear is that they were on a decidedly different direction.

That brings us to Soul. I will say, this is damn good music. The band seems more vital and tight, and there is a powerful unity of upbeat and bright songs with the characteristic reflectiveness that marked the other albums. Perhaps the most affecting for me was "Light," a meditation on parenthood that (I won't spoil it for you) is both beautiful and achingly moving. Watch above. Tinges of 80s pop are hinted at in the stomper "One Wild Life" and pure contemporary indie shines in the lead single "Us For Them." Overall the album is a synthesis of some of the band's strengths over the years: experimentation, frank subject matter, and an increasing curiosity with the world around them. There's not much of the folk influence left here, and that will sadden some. But I won't remind them that the market is literally saturated right now, even in Christian music. What Gungor does well is remind us that music need not have labels apply to be meaningful, or be packaged to appeal to a particular market. There are a few weak edges to the album, mostly in the uneven balance that Michael has with his wife, Lisa, in the vocal realm. They are strongest when they harmonize and back each other up, as they do in "Light." There are some moments that wander towards the preachy side of expression, which is curious and uncharacteristic of this band. But the album has me excited for what comes next. I highly recommend this, and it serves as an able reminder why we don't have to dial our knobs to K-Love to get the encouragement we need. Good art is encouragement in itself.