“The Warbler” by Steve Hindalong quietly succeeds

As rock‘n’roll approaches its sixties, with many of its leading creators doing the same if not having long since passed said mark, the question in a music landscape presently inundated by dreary autotuned virtual instrument laden mojo-less pop garbage is how to maintain relevance to a new generation unaware of what actual music created by human beings sounds like. Today’s audience is perfectly acceptant of lip synced pseudo-concerts during which empty on-stage bombast is eagerly lapped up in lieu of genuine expression. In response, some veteran artists content themselves with endlessly recycling aging hits for aging fans. Thankfully, there are exceptions; artists with a solid résumé yet unwilling to rest on their past work, instead pushing on to find new expressions. Such is the case with Steve Hindalong’s new solo release The Warbler.

Hindalong, known in Christian alt rock circles as the drummer and lyricist for The Choir and among the church at large as the cowriter of “God Of Wonders,” has assembled a mature yet fresh collection of quiet, textured rock in the vein heavily mined by Death Cab For Cutie without copying the “I Will Possess Your Heart” purveyors and variations thereof. There are natural traces of The Choir’s dreamy musical musings without coming across as a Choir record with Hindalong instead of Derri Daugherty on lead vocal. The collection is even throughout, but two songs do stand out: “Unparalyzed” — cowritten with Hindalong’s “God of Wonders” collaborator Marc Byrd — with its gentle but consuming throb, and “For a Lifetime,” a straightforward love song combining the triple scoop sweetness of a strong hook, singalong melody, and the sublime lyric ‘I fell in love with you in a moment / For a lifetime.’

Those hoping for “God Of Wonders Part II” will be disappointed by this album’s introspective, thankfully minus excessive shoe-gazing, nature. The album itself is anything but a disappointment. In nature, the warbler is a rather indistinct bird, but in Hindalong’s case The Warbler is a welcome product from an autumn lion producing, in lieu of a roar, a pleasant modern purr.

The album will be available starting July first at The Choir’s website.

The Union of Sinners and Saints bring Christian rock back

Earlier this month, veteran Christian rocker Billy Smiley, best known for his work in Whiteheart, wrote: “… I have a deep hope and a challenge to the young musicians out there. I want to encourage you to go where no one has gone yet. Don’t imitate, but create. Use historical influences (as we all have) to create what you are going through, with your questions and journeys, and write great songs the world will connect to.” With the release of the self-titled debut The Union of Sinners and Saints, Smiley’s new band with Petra lead singer John Schlitt, the challenge to young musicians now includes trying to keep up with the old guys.

As can be expected given its leadership, The Union of Sinners and Saints is well-honed muscular melodic rock, familiar without falling into formulaic shallowness. Schlitt’s well-preserved voice retains its grit while still hitting the high notes with ease, the band featuring accomplished veterans such as Jon Knox (Adam Again and Whiteheart) alongside more recent talent in the presence of Jason Fowler serving up a massive foundation for him to lay his voice atop. Covers of Whiteheart (“Independence Day”) and Petra (“Beyond Belief”) do the originals full justice, and the pure garage rock snarl of “Old Guys Rule” alongside the subdued progressive rock vibe of “Bittersweet” are standouts among a stack of solid originals by Smiley with major contributions by Schlitt and Peter Furler of Newsboys fame. The ballads never dip into saccharine and the rockers truly rock.

In the aforementioned article by Smiley, he lamented the demise of Christian artists being able to tell stories with their songs, instead seeing a multitude of look-alike sound-alike imitators of benign secular music genres churn out endless, repetitive to distraction worship tracks. Unlike most from previous generations who are content with playing curmudgeons online but offering no alternative, Smiley along with Schlitt and company have gone out and done something about it. The Union of Sinners and Saints is not solely a great old school Christian rock album. It is a great rock‘n’roll record period; the kind one often assumes no one makes anymore. To the tremendous benefit of all, The Union of Sinners and Saints have made one.

The Hyperdrive Kittens rock out the alley

On first, second, and even third glance Back To The Alley, San Francisco Bay Area rock‘n’roll band The Hyperdrive Kittens superb debut CD, seems like an odd choice to mention in conjunction with evangelical news. Once placed into proper context, the connection becomes obvious.

Yesterday, Billy Smiley, veteran Christian rocker best known for his work in Whiteheart and presently involved with The Union Of Sinners And Saints, wrote an article titled The Musings of an Artist and Producer in Today’s Music Culture, posting it on the band’s Facebook page. Quoting from same:

Two statements that I have read recently gave even more clarity to my own thoughts while John Schlitt (Petra) and I talked, wrestled, and worked on lyrics and music that we were writing for our new album The Union of Sinners and Saints. Our perspective from an additional twenty years of living, learning, and being away from the popular Christian culture that we were both part of and in in the 80s and 90s helped us write with a perspective of “What can I do in this season of my life that is meaningful,” “How can we use this platform to encourage others to do the same with their lives,” and “Where is this world heading into?”

I do not necessarily long for the golden years of the music industry (although I am so thankful to have grown up in the creative decades of the late 60s and 70s where music seemed to thrive on each artist wanting to be different from the next), but John and I both seem to have a passion to almost prove ourselves all over again, because we have to write and we have to sing. That is what we love to do!

One of the statements that triggered this response from me came from a fellow musician last month, Regie Hamm, who said:

“Christian music as the platform for an artist performing for an audience is pretty much a thing of the past. It has morphed into a forum for worship leaders. The new incarnation of ‘faith-based music’ is the white, acoustic guitar-playing singer/songwriter who has a good (but nondescript) voice. He is just dangerous enough looking to give him some street cred. And his music will be a very well constructed amalgam of all of the least sexual popular music of the day.

“In the end, it will still essentially be created with barriers and roadblocks and hindrances. And there’s the rub. Creativity requires freedom. Why did everyone from the Jonas Brothers to Katy Perry start out in Christian Music … but then leave? An artist can only paint the same painting – with implied instructions to only use the same seven colors – so many times.

“I love Jesus. But I would imagine even HE probably gets tired of having his name continually rhymed with ‘frees us.‘”

Also:

I listen to Christian music now and ask, “Where are the poets? Where are the questions? Where are the champions or thought? Where are the dreamers? Where have they gone? What are the mysteries around us that we still don’t understand and are willing to write about and question?” As Christians shouldn’t we be obsessed with humbly challenging the culture of today with the best music, art, and performance the world has ever seen? Why don’t we do that?

Enter The Hyperdrive Kittens. Three of its four members are openly Christians (since recording the CD in question the band has added a fifth member who is also Christian), coincidentally the same percentage of believers as in U2. Yet even with this, it is highly doubtful the band will be invited to play at your local Christian music festival. This is entirely to said festival’s loss.

The Hyperdrive Kittens are pure rock‘n’roll, equally at ease with roots rock, punk, and most every point in-between. Lyrically, the band takes a very Alice Cooper-like approach in that without demeaning, or in any fashion offending, the members faith skillfully plays characters and tells stories designed to entertain with a knowing wink. The chuckle-inducing easy relatability of “Roommate Hell” and a searing rendition of “Fever,” originally made popular by Peggy Lee, are immediate standouts. Repeated listens reveal a collection of seven songs, all but the aforementioned “Fever” and one other composed by guitarist Lee Nails with one co-write with lead singer Jenene Curtis, with no weak links.

Billy Smiley justifiably simultaneously wonders about and laments the shallowness of today’s Christian music scene. Thankfully, there is at least one band out there bucking the trend. The Hyperdrive Kittens would easily stand out in a pre-fabricated music landscape of autotune and virtual instruments layered atop drum machines regardless, but the fact that The Hyperdrive Kittens operate out of a love of Christ takes their music from great rock‘n’roll in and of itself to great rock‘n’roll that is vital to everyone searching for truth in art.

The CD is available at Amoeba Music in Berkeley, California and directly from the band through its Facebook page.

Seventy Sevens “20 Years Gone” a superb compilation

As the traditional music industry’s business model transforms in the face of omnipresent streaming and decreasing physical product sales, one of this paradigm shift’s casualties is the greatest hits package. It had been a music industry staple that every year end would bring a large batch of compilation records perfect for gift-giving to the casual fan interested in only the hits instead of any given artist’s catalog work and diehard fan needing to have everything released by a favorite. Today, with artists’ product releases separated by years rather than months and fewer consumers owning anything on which to play a CD let alone an album, the greatest hits album has moved alongside aluminum Christmas trees as a relic from a bygone age. Happily, veteran Christian rockers The 77s have given their fans an early Christmas present in the form of Twenty Years Gone, a compilation of the band’s sublime highlights over the past two decades.

Drawing from the band’s catalog in its present trio format, Twenty Years Gone showcases the 77s dual strengths of dreamy, Beach Boys-infused pop and snarling, muscular blues. Ably abetted by Mark Harmon’s supple bass and Bruce Spencer’s subtle drums, songwriter/guitarist/lead vocalist Mike Roe proves time and again he is not a musical chameleon, but rather a multi-faceted master of multiple styles, his tunes always laced with inventive yet comfortable melodies and total six-string mastery. Whether reeling off original songs so well constructed they come across as almost effortless or digging into roots bluesy gospel tracks from the past, Roe and compatriots have created a body of work demonstrating beyond question they are a quintessential American band come not to party the town down but rather to lay bare its soul, pointing out the pain of failed relationships and the healing that comes solely through Christ.

In an era where popular music has become both far more present and increasingly irrelevant in terms of something designed to savor and save, it is utterly refreshing to have a fresh reminder of music as art; not the stuffy pretentious puffery of musicians believing they are too good for their audience, but rather music touching heart, mind, and soul. Roe sings with more than a touch of sardonic with on “The Late Greats” ‘you won’t hear it on the radio.’ Thankfully, with Twenty Years Gone The 77s enable us to hear it period. Which if not the best gift to receive this Christmas surely ranks up there.

The CD and download is available at Bandcamp.

Childish Things

There are certain things we learn, or at least hopefully learn, as we pass through the years. A prime example of this is coming to grips with how we are best advised accepting the fact that we should not expect respect for our anger, this coming into play the first time during our tender years any of us throw a temper tantrum without reaping the hoped for reward. Unless a spanking was that for which we had a honkering.

We also learn, or should learn, to not expect respect for our tears, or reciprocation for our love. These are far more difficult to swallow. We are taught from the beginning to respect others, to honor the heralded awesome power of love, and that true love always triumphs while conquering all and overcoming all obstacles. Yet through bitter and often embittering experience we learn how love is often impotent, incapable of swaying others in any direction let alone one which we desire. Those who do not learn this, such as starry-eyed women unshakable in their pursuit of utterly undesirable men believing they can transform jerks into jewels, invariably have their ship of hopes dashed against reality’s rocks. You’d think this would be sufficient to teach us, but far too often we embody insanity by attempting the exact same thing while anticipating different results. The Biblical truism that pride goes before a fall is not exclusively reserved for the outwardly arrogant. It also applies to those of us who, while outwardly modest and/or well-intentioned, sadly overestimate our own ability.

It hurts when love isn’t returned. The illustration of a rejected Savior is hard to understand until we encounter a one-sided love of our own. The other person doesn’t look at you in a special way. He or she doesn’t soften when you’re around. He or she isn’t interested in a relationship on any level save perhaps that of casual acquaintance, one quickly forgotten the moment close proximity is no longer in effect. Perhaps the person does allow you to approach them, but even then only within his or her strictly defined and absolute, non-negotiable parameters. Held at arm’s length? Most definitely. Held in each other’s arms? Never. And yes, it makes life a living hell. An accurate description, for hell’s torment is not fire and brimstone, but rather separation from love.

The illustration in Scripture’s most misunderstood and misapplied chapter states that when I was a child, I spoke, thought, and acted like a child; in adulthood laying these childish things aside. It seems strange to think, believe, and act on the notion that there are times when laying love aside is an act of maturity. More accurately, not so much setting love itself on the shelf but learning how to be at peace with the fact others can and will disregard your love for them.

It hurts when love isn’t returned. There is no escaping, no denying the pain. If there is anything good to be drawn from these times, it is from the empathy gained for those also suffering; and how it makes more real our need to embrace — more accurately, allow ourselves to be embraced by — the nail-scarred hands belonging to the Man of Sorrows well acquainted with grief. He knows. He understands. He comforts. And He never rejects our love.

Never.

To Be Alive

April Thompson is one of the most beautiful women I know. This conclusion is drawn not from her looks, although she is very attractive. Rather, it is from how she is deeply and passionately in love with God, her husband, and their kids. That is a beauty no Sports Illustrated model, save one who possesses the same qualities, can ever hope to approach.

In-between sessions of her very full-time gig known as raising the rugrats, April is wont to pen assorted thoughts in her blog. Her most recent post nicely expresses a frustration oft voiced by creative Christians, that being how a segment of American Christianity instantly recoils in horror the moment an artist, in any given medium, attempts crossing over from the Christian marketplace into the big bad satanic secular cesspool:

As Christians, we have to be careful not to be mindless consumers of whatever is served in the name of entertainment. But you know what’s not good? Hiding in our little Christian or conservative ghettos, yelling nasty things at the world from the walls, and throwing stones at anyone who tries to take the message outside the gates. Ya know, like Jesus said to.

Mrs. Thompson continues the point by bringing it into the political realm. She mentions how many conservatives (she is unapologetically one) are so conditioned to a knee-jerk response and blanket condemnation of most everything pop culture-wise, completely hung up on an artist’s political bent regardless of whether it carries over into their art, they disassociate themselves from everything under the mantle of avoiding anything “unclean.” This takes the form of not supporting via buying a CD or download or movie ticket or what have you any individual not on their side of the political aisle, along with, when discussing said artists among those of like mind, participating in a top-this game of who can trash-talk them the most. Because, you know, that will win the culture war every time.

She’s too young to remember, but Steve Taylor brilliantly skewered this mindset some time ago:

So you need a new car
Let your fingers take a walk
Through the business guide
For the born again flock

You’ll be keeping all your money
In the kingdom now
And you’ll only drink milk
From a Christian cow

Don’t you go casting your bread
To keep the heathen well-fed
Line Christian pockets instead
Avoid temptation

Guilty by association

Turn the radio on
To a down-home drawl
Hear a Brylcreem prophet
With a message for y’all

Well I have found a new utensil
In the devil’s toolbox
And the heads are gonna roll
If Jesus rocks

It’s all a worldly design
God’s music should be divine
Try buying records like mine
Avoid temptation

Guilty by association

So you say it’s of the devil
And we’ve got no choice
‘Cause you heard a revelation
From the still small voice

If the Bible doesn’t back it
Then it seems quite clear
Perhaps it was the devil
Who whispered in your ear

It’s a telethon Tuesday
For the gospel club
Send your money in now
Or they’re gonna pull the plug

Just remember this fact
When they plead and beg
When the chicken squawks loudest
Gonna lay a big egg

You could be smelling a crook
You should be checking The Book
But you, you’d rather listen than look
The implication

Guilty by association

Life for the believer is neither a scenario of doing whatever one wishes (sorry, libertarians) or hiding in a reverse leper colony. It is a call to the reality of Christ and life in Christ. It is personal holiness combined with mandatory outreach to others. Jesus was not a drunkard, yet He drank and His first recorded miracle was at a wedding reception when He changed water into wine so as to keep the party going. He associated, without compromise, with society’s outcasts. He didn’t tow the religious progressive’s continually shifting line of relative morality, telling them everything was cool and they could continue on their merry way without repercussion. He loved them where they were at while calling on them to change first their heart, and from that change their life. He didn’t commend the adulteress whose life He saved from the crowd seeking to entrap Him by what He said should be done with her, knowing full well the penalty for her actions under Mosaic law was that she was to be executed by stoning. He didn’t condemn her either. He offered her life with the admonition to leave her life of sin.

There is a powerful witness in the polite destruction of clichés. Systematically execute them by living life among other people in a Godly manner. Contrary to some opinions, living a Godly life does not mean acting like you are God, nor does it mean shoving your faith down the throat of another, nor does it mean never speaking up for fear of “offending” someone. It means tearing down the false image of what constitutes a believer by being both the human being you were created as and the child of God you were created to be.

There are no magic formulas for this; no superdeeduper secret initiation rites, magic words or self-induced guilt trips about what you should or shouldn’t do to say the magic words in response to which God will give you a hundred blessings. There is honesty, with yourself, others and especially God.

There are stones in the road. You will trip and fall. You will fail. You will know hurt, frustration, despair, rejection, grief, and anger. But you will also know what it means to truly be alive.

To be alive is to live, with all of life’s joys and sorrows.

You cannot hide from life. You can live life.

If others think you are crazy for doing so, so be it.

Elegy for a pastor

Chuck Smith, pastor of Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, California and one of the leading figures in the Jesus Movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s, passed away today after a lengthy battle with cancer. He was 86.

To try and explain the impact Chuck Smith had on contemporary American evangelical Christianity, a brief personal illustration. Back in the mid-1970s, in my neck of the woods (San Francisco Bay Area) the reverberations of the Jesus Movement were still being felt in youth culture. It was a heady time, teens and twentysomethings filled with intense love for Jesus and equally intense belief that His return to the earth would be soon and very soon. Wed sit on our bench, located perilously close to the jock bench, in our high school quadrangle with our guitars as we sang and strummed away on our little songs about a great big God. There were all the obligatory teenage angst moments, falling in and out of love at breakneck speed while occasionally musing about what we would do once we were set free from our high school protective cocoon. But we trusted Jesus would take care of that, and besides He would be coming back shortly so why get worked up over a future that would never come to pass?

Being San Francisco Bay Area people, naturally we loathed and looked down on all things Southern California in general and Los Angeles in particular. However, we cut Orange County, south of L.A., a lot of slack. No, not because of Disneyland. It was the home of something we greatly envied, although we were careful to label it anything but envy as of course envy was a sin. This was semantics, though. It was envy.

We envied Orange County for being the home of Chuck Smith.

Where we were, Christian concerts were far and few between. There would be the occasional appearance by Barry McGuire at Mario Murillos monthly Night of Miracles rally in Oakland, but other than that there was precious little. There was no radio to which we could listen; the local stations were all AM dollar a holler junk. But where Chuck Smith was, there were concerts every Saturday night playing our music. There was a radio station, an FM radio station, playing our music. There was a church where we knew wed all be welcome no matter our hair length or dress code. There was a place we knew that if we could only get there we would be blessed beyond words by being at the home base of everything we held dear in our unstoppable zeal. But, we couldnt get there despite whispered conversations about how if we split the gas and had all the boys stay in one hotel room and all the girls in another with no visitations save with the door wide open, maybe we could borrow someones parents van and one day make a pilgrimage to Santa Ana so we could experience in person this magical place from whence came the records on the Maranatha! Music label we eagerly devoured.

Time passed, as it does. Jesus had other plans and didnt come back before the 1980s set in, or any subsequent decade for that matter. Some of us walked away from the faith, disillusioned at the prospect of having to actually live out a normal life with a job and family and everything else that comes with these things. Some of us passed away. But some of us remained, our faith ofttimes battered, bruised and beaten down to the point of near abandonment. Yet we still believed, chuckling over our previous eschatological fixation and learning, as best we could, to be happy with what we had and learning to have faith in Christ alone, not in an image of Him being the ultimate get out of jail card.

This all said, the news of Chuck Smiths passing is not an occasion for nostalgic musing about when we were young, alive, on fire and had all the answers. It is a moment to note all that he accomplished: the artists for whom he provided a platform; the multitude of Calvary Chapels now dotting the globe. His name does not have the recognition factor of other post-WWII American Christianity leaders such as Billy Graham or any given TV evangelist. But today, wherever there is a folk/rock guitar being played and song being sung, and wherever there is a ministry saying come as you are because Jesus loves you and so do we, Chuck Smith is there. And we are all the better for it.

God bless you, Pastor Chuck, now at home in your Fathers arms.

“Incandescent” by Crumbacher still shines brightly

After twenty-five or so years of being mostly a fond memory, occasionally augmented by worn-out vinyl or cassette, Incandescent, the debut album by Christian synth-pop band Crumbächer, has been re-released this week.

Before getting into a review of the album itself, some background about the time when it first saw the light of day is in order. Originally released in 1985, unbeknownst to all involved at the time Incandescent was one of the, if not the absolute, final entries in a music catalog that proved vital in contemporary Christian music’s early days. It came from Broken Records, a division of Maranatha! Music that itself was owned and operated by Calvary Chapel in Santa Ana, California, a church that had been one of the primary focal points for the Jesus Movement of the early 1970s. The church also spawned a host of bands and solo artists that routinely played Saturday night concerts at Calvary Chapel plus shows at other like-minded nascent evangelical churches in the area. Nearly all of the artists were primarily if not totally devoted to evangelism, consistent with the church’s belief that Christ’s return was imminent and therefore maximum proselyting was needed so that as many people as possible would be saved prior to, as taught in the church’s theology, the Rapture (all living believers physically leaving the earth and being taken to heaven) and Great Tribulation (the coming and reign of the Antichrist) that would precede Jesus’ coming back to earth. Musically the main style was mellow, with touches of the folk-rock and country-rock being popularized at the time by fellow southern California-based mainstream acts such as the Eagles. This vibe lasted throughout the 1970s into the early 1980s.

By 1983, with new wave in full swing and MTV becoming an ever-growing music presence, the next generation of Calvary Chapel artists had begun exploring genres hitherto untouched, such as rockabilly and punk. As far as the church was concerned, this was tolerable as long as it kept the assorted bands and artists under control. This started falling apart as artists, chomping at the bit for both more artistic freedom and freedom from the restraints of evangelism first and foremost, began spreading their wings. In 1985 Calvary Chapel pulled the plug, dismantling its record labels and dismissing its artists save those devoted to anonymously creating its long-running series of wildly popular übersoft pop praise and worship albums. However, before this decision the church briefly tried its hand at promoting far edgier sounds than those with which it had grown comfortable. Thus, among other modern bands such as Undercover and Altar Boys, under its wings there was Crumbächer.

In musical terms Crumbächer was far more restrained than most of its label mates. The band’s leader, at the time its sole songwriter and always lead vocalist Steve Crumbacher was musically weaned on pop vocal ensembles such as ABBA and the Beach Boys. Filtering this through the less gritty side of early to mid-1980s synth rock, Crumbacher created arrangements of layered keyboards and vocal harmonies galore, all set to danceable rhythms. It was a mix far more akin to a-ha than Ultravox, but this was an afterthought. The songs and musical roots were what mattered the most. That it was placed into synth-pop arrangements stemmed not from any great affiliation with the genre itself, but rather because at the time it was the most effective means of reaching the band’s teen and tweener audience. And reach them it did.

Listening to it now, what is most striking about Incandescent is how, despite the decidedly 1980s style throughout, it holds up remarkably well. It helps that the band (in addition to Crumbacher on lead vocals and keyboards the lineup was Dawn Wisner-Johnson on keyboards, Jimmy Wisner on drums and Dan Hohulin on guitar, with all contributing backing vocals) was instrumentally and vocally proficient. That duly noted, the album’s main strength is that, regardless of how they were arranged to fit the band’s target genre and time period, the songs themselves are well constructed pop tunes. Hooks, melodies and rhythms all come together with graceful ease, creating tunes made for being sung along with as well as providing top-notch dancing material. With any kind of proper push, there would have been Top 40 hits from this album, most noticeably “Jamie,” even with its undisguised Christian lyrical bent.

Certainly there is an element of nostalgia here; after all, the album being discussed is twenty-eight years old. However, the enduring quality of Incandescent plus how it taps into a truth that has permeated pop music since time immemorial – kids like to dance – makes this far more than an exercise in remembering when. Want proof? More than a few fans from back in the day, who now have kids of their own, have mentioned on social media that their offspring can’t get enough of the album’s infectious melodies and beats. It might be a child of its era, but Incandescent has the power to shine brightly for generations to come.

The album is available on iTunes, Amazon and Frontline Records.

“Dig Here, Said the Angel” by Daniel Amos a music masterpiece

There’s good. There’s great. There’s brilliant. And then there’s instant timeless classic. “Dig Here, Said the Angel” by Daniel Amos is the latter, and then some.

The band’s first release since 2001’s “Mr. Buechner’s Dream,” “Dig Here, Said the Angel” finds Terry Scott Taylor and compatriots exploring a musical mix fusing various flavors of late ’60s psychedelia with the shimmering combination of power pop and Bakersfield country/latter-day Laurel Canyon Mafia country/rock fusion exemplified in earlier Daniel Amos releases such as “MotorCycle.” The emphasis is on the psychedelic, sometimes basking in musical sunshine such as ‘Jesus Wept’ and other times menacing such as on the title track. Throughout, Taylor and the band’s melodic sense reigns supreme, with nary a tuneless or throwaway track to be found.

Lyrically, the album pierces mind and soul with purposeful intelligence. Taylor has long been one of Christian rock’s premiere lyricists. This time through he has outdone himself, exploring grace’s enveloping nature, the nature of suffering and meditations on his own mortality among other topics. In ‘We’ll All Know Soon Enough’ he challenges non-believers not with Bible-blasting broadsides, but with a quiet reminder of mankind’s common fate. On the flip side, ‘Now That I’ve Died’ comes from the viewpoint of how entering heaven entails the ultimate self-improvement movement. The pure anthem ‘The Sun Shines on Everyone’ is a gentle yet forceful reminder that God’s love extends to everyone and He alone reserves judgment. These are but a few of the terrific songs from start to finish on this superb album.

It is no exaggeration to say that “Dig Here, Said the Angel” is Daniel Amos’ greatest work. It is also no exaggeration to say that in the annals of Christian rock, only “Only Visiting This Planet” by Larry Norman is a more masterful work. It is that good.

The album will be released later this year and will be available on the band’s website.

Steve Scott’s “Emotional Tourist” is the thinking Christian’s art

It’s fitting on Christendom’s most solemn day – Good Friday – to remember how Christ’s passion and death were foretold in brutally beautiful poetry by the prophet Isaiah: “But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

Using poetry and spoken language to convey both Christ’s message and the full spectrum of our relationship with Him, and each other, is something of a lost art these days, especially in contemporary Christian music where the overwhelming emphasis is on fundamental praise and worship. It’s not that there is anything wrong with praise and worship; they are vital elements of every believer’s life. However, there is more to life as a whole. Much, much more.

Enter Steve Scott.

Although a native Englishman, Scott is very much a part of the San Francisco Bay Area music scene via his involvement with local artists such as the late Larry Norman, Randy Stonehill and Mike Roe. Now based in Sacramento, Scott has carved out a niche for himself as someone far more concerned about artistic integrity and creativity than commercial acceptance. Like most true artists, he has found a small but devoted audience. With the release of Emotional Tourist: A Steve Scott Retrospective, a compilation of some of the best tracks from various albums he’s recorded during his career, this small number should grow quite a bit.

Scott’s music has shifted over the years from a more jangly guitar-based rock to reflective keyboard washes etched with haunting melody; always modern, always demanding attention. Lyrically, be it sung or spoken Scott’s focus is on world and humanity observations from a Christian perspective while going far beyond the stock evangelical action safety net. A brilliant example is “No Memory of You,” detailing Scott’s encounter with prostitutes in Java where in lieu of hitting them over the head with his Bible he shows them pictures of his infant daughter.

Emotional Tourist: A Steve Scott Retrospective is not background music for self-administered spiritual coddling sessions. It makes you listen. It makes you think. Scott’s words challenge faith not by calling it into question, but rather by questioning whether our faith, and our God, is too limited. If you’re looking for warm fuzzies, this record isn’t for you. But if you’re looking for the thinking person’s Christian rock by Christian rock’s thinking person, Emotional Tourist: A Steve Scott Retrospective perfectly fills the bill.

The record is available on Amazon and iTunes.