Gateway Record

The Surprising Depth and Vulnerability of Extreme’s III Sides to Every Story

Gateway Record, Music and Healing

For many, the invasion of the Seattle grunge monster in the early 1990s was a welcome revolution. Up until then, in the rock music world, hair reigned supreme. Bands like Warrant, Winger, Firehouse, and Skid Row ruled the airwaves. It was an era typified by indulgence, big hair, tight spandex pants, and, unfortunately, lost of inane lyrics. It is such a lightning rod, with lovers of the movement still bemoaning the unveiling of Nirvana and haters wishing that it could be expunged from annals of pop music history.

I’ve been a bit hesitant to write this post and upload this week’s Gateway Record. Yes, there has been a fear that if I write about (and basically promote) anything from the hair metal craze, my credibility might be lost with some. I guess, when it comes down to it, I’m willing to take that risk. That’s because, as with many other lightning rod issues, there is a middle road that is both accessible and, for me, preferable. You see, not all hair metal bands were self-indulgent, no-talent losers. There were those, to be sure. All you would have to do is quote some lyrics from that time to prove that case. At the same time, there were some incredibly talented musicians in some of those bands. And, some of the bands aimed to create something more significant than the hormone-driven garbage that much of that music was about.

One such example is the album featured as this week’s Gateway Record on Tomme Suab. When Extreme hit it big with More Than Words in 1991, I didn’t really know much about them. My buddy Wayne, who was SO into all of those bands, had already liked them for some time. But, I was in the middle of my CCM Pharisee phase and was really unaware, for the most part, of what was popular. Although I was hesitant to admit it, when I would hear that song while riding around with Wayne, I really liked it, as well as Hole Hearted.

Now, at that time, no one would have mistaken Extreme for a religious rock band. After all, the two songs mentioned above were on an album dubiously entitled Pornograffiti, an album that featured such sophomoric songs as Lil’ Jack Horny and Decadence Dance. Still, there seemed to be something different about those guys as compared to other hair bands. There was a depth, both lyrically and musically, that started peeking through on that album.

And then 1993 came along. As mentioned in my previous post about Derek Webb, in 1993 I began to break away from my self-inflicted bondage to CCM (Contemporary Christian Music). During the summer of 1993, Wayne introduced me to Extreme’s next album, III Sides to Every Story. Almost immediately, I was drawn to the album. Wayne didn’t like it that much… it was too “soft” for him. But, I was hearing glimpses of that depth mentioned above, and I wanted more of it.

Later that summer, I left for a nine-month internship in southern India. I didn’t even really prepare for the trip. I wasn’t ready physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally, and the trip was hard… really hard. For the entirety of my time there, I suffered from deep culture shock and homesickness. I was miserable most of the time and I closed myself off from the culture and the people around me.

By that time, I had already begun to connect with music on an emotional level. It had become a comfort for me and I was in constant need of comfort during that time in India. While there, I purchased a few cassettes, most notably this week’s Gateway Record. I seemed to listen to it non-stop, especially on the many long bus rides I endured traveling around south India. It became a great source of comfort as well as a small way to connect with the culture I’d left behind in the U.S.

But, it was also more than that. For me, it was great to finally be able to really dive into the album and it’s unexpected musical and lyrical depth. The depravity and immaturity that had been so rampant in the hair metal era and even in much of Extreme’s previous work, was missing in this album. They had moved on from such meaningless stuff and had meandered into the stuff that life is really made of. They touched on the folly of war, the abysmal political climate of the times, insanity of racism, the nature and difficulty of romantic relationships, and the existence of God.

The first half of III Sides to Every Story goes to great lengths to describe the ills and difficulties of life in the early 90s. Everything seems to be going to hell. Politicians are all out for themselves. Wars are raging. Relationships seem to be getting harder and harder. Folks’ worth and character are still being defined by their ethnicity. Things were bad. And then, as you listen to the album, you move from all of this incredible discontent to questions, especially one question: God, where are you in the middle of all of this?

This question is communicated through songs like Our Father, which describes the ever-increasing distance between a child and the father that child desperately needs. That theme continues with Stop the World and the sorrowful, sober God Isn’t Dead?

Ah, look at all the lonely people,

Losing faith, in a world full of despair,

No one who cares,

Wondering where

God disappeared

 

I see the pain in everybody’s faces

Asking why, the God up in the sky

Didn’t say goodbye

Please tell me God didn’t die

 

Please tell me God isn’t dead…

On the U.S. cassette version, the album also contained a song called Don’t Leave Me Alone, which came after God Isn’t Dead? This is where the band makes a major transition from the broad, sweeping, non-relational spiritual struggles into a deeply personal, introspective searching.

Don’t leave me alone

Don’t leave me on my own

I’m on my knees

Forgive me please

Just don’t leave me alone

How long will my song be wrong?

It’s as if the protagonist knows that all of the discontent he is experiencing due to the cultural climate around him somehow relates to his own inward discontent about his own life. Yes, war sucks. Yes, racism sucks. Yes, politicians often suck. But, what about the inner wars over right and wrong? What about his own racist tendencies and general contempt toward others? What about his own lack of forthrightness and desire to serve self? He sees the problems in his own soul, and doesn’t want them to alienate him from God.

The final three songs are part of one major movement (the Wikipedia write-up on this album describes it as an “opus”). Rise and Shine is a conflicted declaration of both hope and futility. It freely borrows themes from Ecclesiastes, one of the more depressing books in the Bible. It’s like the protagonist is reaching for some kind of truth that will tell him everything will be okay, and yet he also finds truth that tells him that his efforts are futile. This conflict leads to the driving Am I Ever Gonna Change? For years, this was my favorite song on the album, because I could all too easily relate to the plight of the protagonist. I was over my head in addiction at the time and part of me wanted desperately to be free. So, I could hear and relate to the desperation and longing in the song.

Am I ever gonna change

Will I always stay the same

If I say one thing,

Then I do the other

It’s the same old song

That goes on forever

Am I ever gonna change

I’m the only one to blame

When I think I’m right,

I wind up wrong

It’s a futile fight

Gone on too long

Oh my, could I relate to these sentiments! But, beyond that personal resonance, I also hear a guy who is at the end of his rope. He realizes that much of what he hates in the world lives in his own heart. He is desperate for change.

And then we come to the album’s finale, Who Cares? It is the climax of the “opus” both musically and lyrically. As the song progresses, you can hear melodic elements of Rise and Shine and Am I Ever Gonna Change? Lyrically, the protagonist, at the end of his rope, has come to a point of total abandonment. The world is a mess. Who cares? I am a mess. Who cares? And then, in that moment of clarity, he realizes there is only one hope for him.

Here I am,

A naked man

Nothing to hide

With empty hands

Remember me,

I am the one

Who lost his way,

Your Prodigal Son

All is lost. I am lost. All I can do is abandon myself to You, God. All I can do is choose to put myself in Your hands and trust You. You are the only One who can set this straight. You are the only One who can save me from myself. For me, there is no greater truth in life than the reality that I, in my utter brokenness and lostness, can abandon myself to a God who sees me, loves me, and pursues me. That kind of trust is ultimately where the protagonist lands (in my humble opinion) in III Sides to Every Story.

So, yeah, Extreme was a hair metal band. And, yeah, they had their moments of perversion. And yet, they, through their own searching and struggling, have aided me in my own searching and struggling. They have helped me see that at the end of desperation, there is hope. And, they have reminded me where that hope can be found.

As mentioned above, this album is featured as this week’s Gateway Record. Take a few moments and listen to it here.

Courage and Freedom: Derek Webb’s She Must and Shall Go Free

Gateway Record, Music and Healing

 

In the early 2000s, I discovered that our local library had music you could check out, just like books. I went on a borrowing spree, trying to find new music and artists. One of the albums I checked out was Derek Webb’s She Must and Shall Go Free. I didn’t know who Derek Webb was and I had never heard his music, at least I thought I hadn’t. Webb had been a member of the Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) group, Caedmon’s Call, which had garnered some commercial success amongst the Christian radio and bookstore culture. I never cared much for what I heard from them, but to be honest, I had a bias against them because they fell into the CCM category (more on that in a bit).

Webb’s first solo album, the one mentioned above, was a broad departure from Caedmon’s Call and from CCM overall. It was downright salty, to be honest, using language (like “whore”, “damn”, “bastard”, and such) that was not welcome on Christian radio or in most Christian bookstores. But, the real departure had less to do with the words used and with the substance within. Before I dive deeper into that, it’s important that I provide some personal context.

I grew up in church. In 1985, when I was 14, my church brought in a new youth pastor. He was a great guy, a good friend, and his influence helped me develop a deeper faith. One of his early influences on me had to do with music. We spent several weeks, during youth group meetings, watching popular music videos and talking about what we were seeing in the videos and hearing in the lyrics. Then, he exposed us to some music made by Christian artists. The ones that stood out to me were Stryper and Rez Band. And I started gravitating toward what we called “Christian music” or CCM

Eventually, I became convinced that I should only listen to CCM. Specifically, I should only purchase music that I could get at our local Christian bookstore. Yes, I know, it was a very narrow way of thinking. And, I became very legalistic about it, looking down on others that didn’t do the same. I was quite the teenaged Pharisee. Along with Rez and Stryper, I started listening to other classic CCM bands like Petra, Michael W. Smith, and Amy Grant. My musical world was a sheltered one, housing only artists within that culture (other than U2, who refused… and rightfully so… to be categorized that way).

My devotion to CCM was at an all-time high in the early 90s, when I attended a Christian college. One night, as I was returning to my dorm from some kind of activity, I could hear Extreme’s More Than Words playing all the way through the hallway. I was immediately disgusted. When I got to my room, I discovered that it was my roommate listening to it on my stereo! I was incensed and proceeded to berate him mercilessly. That was who I was in those days.

I also remember going to see a show at the New Union in Minneapolis, back when it was on Hennepin Avenue. This was likely in late 1992. The New Union regularly had CCM bands, especially harder CCM bands, play on their stage. I don’t remember who was I going to see that night (I think it was a punk band called One Bad Pig). While we were waiting for the show to start, they were playing King’s X’s new self-titled album through the sound system. King’s X was one of my favorites back then (even though they didn’t really fit in the CCM world) and I didn’t yet have the new album. As I listened, I wasn’t listening for creativity or emotionality; I was listening to hear them say “Jesus” or “God” in their lyrics. That’s how entrenched I was in this way of thinking.

I can’t pinpoint the reason, but in 1993 I opened my mind to music from outside CCM. I started listening to the Black Crowes, Arrested Development, and Extreme, among others. Something was breaking in me… In August of that year, I left home for a long internship in south India. That was one of the hardest periods in my life. Music was already a source of comfort for me way before I left for India. But as I wandered aimlessly through my time there, homesick and stricken with deep culture shock, my musical comfort came from Arrested Development’s 3 Years, 5 Months and 2 Days in the Life Of…, Seal’s self-titled album from 1991, and Extreme’s III Sides to Every Story… not the CCM artists that I used to lean on.

As the years have passed, I have come to understand why my personal departure from CCM began to take root. When I was in India, I was dealing with an immense amount of emotional pain. I was struggling in ways I had never before struggled. And, I was not emotionally mature enough to healthily walk through all that stuff. I longed for truth and for emotional resonance. And, when it comes to music, the truth was that I got more of these from Arrested Development, Extreme, and Seal than I ever did from much of the CCM stuff I’d listened to before. There was an authenticity and emotionality in this music that was simply absent or lacking in much of what I had been listening to. And, my heart was longing for those things. I didn’t need Christian axioms and clichés. I didn’t need to hear Jesus’ name over and over again in every song. I didn’t need regurgitated Bible verses. I needed something more real than all that.

Don’t get me wrong, not every artist categorized as CCM is fake or shallow. There have been, through the years, many Christian musicians/bands that have created important art that has contained genuine expression, social activism, and/or the power of faith and truth applied to real life issues in meaningful ways. But, there have been plenty of CCM acts that have really offered nothing or very little of themselves or of any real substance in their music. What’s sad is how CCM, as it became more popular in the 90’s, grew into a successful business, and much of the lyrical drivel that had become popular got reworked and made into new songs by new CCM bands. The meaninglessness and seeming lack of authenticity got perpetuated.

Enter Derek Webb’s She Must and Shall Go Free. It rocked my world. It also sent tremors throughout the CCM world. One of their own had gone off the reservation. Not only was he using taboo words, he was being uncomfortably honest in his lyrics. Consider the following:

I am a whore I do confess

But I put You on just like a wedding dress

And I run down the aisle

I’m a prodigal with no way home

But I put You on just like a ring of gold

And I run down the aisle to you

-From Wedding Dress

And it doesn’t get better once you see the light

You wake to find that the fight has just begun

I used to be a damn mess but now I look just fine

Cause you dressed me up and we drank the finest wine

-From Saint and Sinner

This is a rawness and self-revelation that had largely been absent from the CCM world. And, it was a little too raw for many Christian music outlets, as more than a few of them refused to sell the album.

Aside from how this album challenged the CCM establishment, it also deeply challenged me. I certainly loved the rebellious aspects of it. Yeah, please cuss, Mr. Webb! I cuss too! But aside from that superficial resonance, there was something much deeper that affected me. It wasn’t the “naughty” words. It was what they said. Webb had created the most genuine artistic expression I had personally heard from a CCM artist (although he pretty much officially stepped out of that world with the release of this album). I heard heart, anger, pain, sorrow, and deep, deep passion.

I became a raving fan of Derek Webb from that point. I followed his music closely, and have collected all of his solo work. Some of his other albums have affected me deeply as well, especially Mockingbird and Stockholm Syndrome. I’ve also followed his other projects such as SOLA-MI and the launch of one of my favorite websites, Noisetrade, which itself has been revolutionary in my personal musical world.

She Must and Shall Go Free changed me in a couple of important ways. First of all, it re-opened my mind to Christian artists once again. I am thankful for that, because even though there is still plenty of meaningless drivel out there in the CCM world, there are also some incredibly talented Christian folks out there creating significant art, such as Josh Garrels , John Mark McMillan, and Gungor. I would have missed out on some important and influential (on me) music had my mind remained closed.

More importantly, I was inspired by Webb’s courage in recording and releasing such a record. There was no assurance that there would be an audience for it. By including the themes and languages found in it, he took the risk of alienating much of his established fan base. As an artist from a CCM background, there was no guarantee that people who hated CCM or were unaware of it would listen to this music. He continued walking courageously through the next few albums and in the launch of Noisetrade, seemingly convinced that the CCM world had settled for so much less than it was capable of artistically and creatively. He seemed determined to challenge the CCM status quo and help people discover the power of genuine self-expression.

Obviously, such courage and its aims are near and dear to my heart. And the place in my heart for these things became deeper, clearer, and stronger because of She Must and Shall Go Free. If you would like to experience this album for yourself, you can stream it on the Gateway Record page until January 29. You can also download the album for free (plus tip if you so desire) from Noisetrade.

U2’s The Unforgettable Fire: Emotional Impressions

Gateway Record, Music and Healing

 

There is no question that U2 has been one of the most significant influences in my life… period. In my teens, it was U2 that challenged the ultra-conservative, pro-war status quo that I experienced throughout my childhood. I was born to a white, conservative family and lived in a suburb, five minutes away from Pat Robertson’s CBN and thirty minutes away from a naval base. U2 challenged me to think beyond the prevalent thinking of those around me. They pushed my personal envelope, and I badly needed that.

Beyond their political/social/philosophical provocation, their music challenged me as well. Up until The Joshua Tree became the incredible mainstream success that it was, I didn’t know much about the band. I was 15 when that one was released, and I’m pretty sure I just thought U2 was kind of weird or “out there” to that point. I was trained to be afraid of any music in which the lyrics had a political/social feel to it, so U2 was a little bit out of bounds for me at first.

Around the time that I, along with the rest of the world, fell in love with U2 and The Joshua Tree, a friend made me a cassette with War on one side and The Unforgettable Fire on the other side. I really liked War, but didn’t give The Unforgettable Fire much of a listen for the longest time. Then, in college, I finally listened… and was taken captive.

At the time, I couldn’t have told you why I was so drawn in to this album. It was different than the albums that bookended it, War and The Joshua Tree. It was certainly different than their live recording, Under a Blood Red Sky (which I listened to repeatedly on the way to school during my junior and senior years. Later, I would come to see how The Unforgettable Fire seemed to serve as a bridge between the raw, raucous, punk-influenced early U2 albums and the more polished Joshua Tree/Rattle and Hum era.

What I have come to understand is that The Unforgettable Fire is the most abstract record from U2’s earlier years. The emphasis is not straight-forward clarity. It is more about expressing general feelings, thereby provoking emotional responses in the engaged listener. Now, looking back and understanding these things in hindsight, it would totally make sense that I was captivated by this record. It beckoned toward something that, to that point, had been laying dormant within my soul. Something that would eventually break free and lead to a deeper appreciation for music (and this blog, by the way).

I still love this album to this day. As I have been writing this, I have been taking it in one more time. I still feel like A Sort of Homecoming, the opening track, is an invitation to engage in 40 minutes of emotional brushstrokes. I am still forced to move by the raucous rambling of Wire. I still get caught up in the epic emotion of Bad and its description of the pull and pain of heroine abuse. The Unforgettable Fire still has me captivated, and I’m not really interested in being liberated.