Letter from Florida (6): Musical Guilt
Some time ago a friend told me that he was singing more, listening to more music and was, because of this, much happier. I believed him.
Music is one of the most powerful and mysterious forces on earth.
And just as mysterious is the question, Why do we listen to what we listen to? Why do we like some music and hate another kind? Is this a learned thing or instinctive?
Example: I grew up in a home where classical music was on the radio most of the time. My mother had no use for the gospel music of her time and wouldn’t have walked across the street for a gospel concert. I remember a time when The King’s Choraliers, a Grand Rapids based male chorus that sang gospel music, came to Edgerton, my home town. It was a big deal in town because the director was a man who had grown up in Edgerton. But my mother was not the least bit interested in attending.
As I grew up, I absorbed some of her attitudes and these were augmented by participation in Choral programs when I attended college. Some time later, however, I was singing in a male chorus like The King’s Choraliers. I did not like all the music, but I did enjoy much of it.
Now, I listen most often to classical music and certain kinds of pop. And I find most contemporary Christian music irritating, either grating or monotonous or both.
But here’s one of my guilty pleasures: Sometimes on a late Saturday afternoon, as I am surfing my TV, I will come across the Gaither Singers doing old time gospel. And I stop and listen. A whole stage full of old and young gospel singers with big hair and outlandish clothes and lots of make-up singing and smiling and raising their arms, having the time of their lives. A lot of the music is corny and the theology, by my standards, pretty bad. But every so often they’ll do a number so good that it brings tears to my eyes or gets me singing along with them.
A while back while watching the Gaither Hour, I heard/watched Sandi Patie and Larnell Harris singing “I’ve Just Seen Jesus” and it was one of the most moving musical experiences of my life. And here’s the strange thing. I am almost ashamed to say that. Why? Am I supposed to deny what I experienced, deny that the music lifted me out of my chair and made tears run down my cheeks? Deny the pulsing excitement about the resurrection that the song aroused in me?
Are my instincts or whatever it is that made me respond so deeply to the singing of that song by those performers bad, so bad that I should not trust them or is my head—educated in another direction bad?
I know this: I’m trusting my instincts.
Music is one of the most powerful and mysterious forces on earth.
And just as mysterious is the question, Why do we listen to what we listen to? Why do we like some music and hate another kind? Is this a learned thing or instinctive?
Example: I grew up in a home where classical music was on the radio most of the time. My mother had no use for the gospel music of her time and wouldn’t have walked across the street for a gospel concert. I remember a time when The King’s Choraliers, a Grand Rapids based male chorus that sang gospel music, came to Edgerton, my home town. It was a big deal in town because the director was a man who had grown up in Edgerton. But my mother was not the least bit interested in attending.
As I grew up, I absorbed some of her attitudes and these were augmented by participation in Choral programs when I attended college. Some time later, however, I was singing in a male chorus like The King’s Choraliers. I did not like all the music, but I did enjoy much of it.
Now, I listen most often to classical music and certain kinds of pop. And I find most contemporary Christian music irritating, either grating or monotonous or both.
But here’s one of my guilty pleasures: Sometimes on a late Saturday afternoon, as I am surfing my TV, I will come across the Gaither Singers doing old time gospel. And I stop and listen. A whole stage full of old and young gospel singers with big hair and outlandish clothes and lots of make-up singing and smiling and raising their arms, having the time of their lives. A lot of the music is corny and the theology, by my standards, pretty bad. But every so often they’ll do a number so good that it brings tears to my eyes or gets me singing along with them.
A while back while watching the Gaither Hour, I heard/watched Sandi Patie and Larnell Harris singing “I’ve Just Seen Jesus” and it was one of the most moving musical experiences of my life. And here’s the strange thing. I am almost ashamed to say that. Why? Am I supposed to deny what I experienced, deny that the music lifted me out of my chair and made tears run down my cheeks? Deny the pulsing excitement about the resurrection that the song aroused in me?
Are my instincts or whatever it is that made me respond so deeply to the singing of that song by those performers bad, so bad that I should not trust them or is my head—educated in another direction bad?
I know this: I’m trusting my instincts.
One of the things I loved about staying with you every summer was the songs you were humming and singing as you walked around the house. I also loved the cinnamon bread.
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