by Jelani Greenidge, Urban Faith Contributing Writer | Aug 15, 2017 | Headline News, Jelani Greenidge |
The Nielsen company is most widely known as the company that measures television ratings, but it also wields its considerable research apparatus in the realm of popular music. Recently, its annual mid-year report made headlines around the blogosphere after it revealed that for the first time, more people listened to the combined genres of R&B and hip-hop than any other musical form, dethroning rock’s position at the top.
This shouldn’t be a huge surprise to anyone who’s been paying much attention, because hip-hop music and culture has been steadily moving closer and closer toward the center of American culture for decades now. Nineties rap icons Dr. Dre and Jay-Z have become multimedia moguls with their own product lines and exclusive platforms, and the house band for NBC’s flagship late-night TV show is legendary Philly hip-hop band The Roots, whose leading men Amir “Questlove” Thompson and Tarik “Black Thought” Trotter helped produce the biggest smash hit Broadway recording in decades.
Reluctant to Adapt
Hip-hop has long been a mainstream form of musical expression.
And since evangelical churches are known for adopting trends and idolizing the notion of relevance, it seems telling that, outside of a few counter examples, very few churches are intentionally embracing hip-hop as a form of worship music.
There are a variety of reasons for this. Chief among them is a centering of whiteness and white cultural norms. Even for people who do not hold any active racial animus in their conscious thoughts (and who would therefore resist the term racist as a self-descriptor), there are still both conscious and subconscious ways that the tastes, priorities and experiences of people of color are marginalized or overlooked in favor of a “mainstream” aesthetic that is often white and middle class. Therefore, most white megachurches have worship bands that sound more like U2 than they do Lecrae, even though in 2017 people tend to listen more to the latter than the former.
But white privilege doesn’t explain the reluctance that many Black churches and church leaders demonstrate in their interactions with hip-hop culture. While gospel music has undoubtedly been heavily influenced by hip-hop music and culture (through trailblazing artists like Kirk Franklin and Tye Tribbett), there are still plenty of Black congregations where the attitude communicated by both leaders and laity is that it’s not holy if it doesn’t have a choir or a Hammond B-3 organ. Though the cultural signifiers are different, there’s still a sense of cultural superiority and a reluctance to get outside of it.
Missing the Point
In my conversations with White pastors and worship leaders, there’s also an expressed sense of apprehension about engaging with hip-hop for fear of doing it wrong; those who do it poorly are rightly accused of disrespecting the artform, and those who do it too well open themselves to accusations of cultural appropriation. Often I hear from pastors who feel like it’s fine for a church to embrace hip-hop, but only if hip-hop is an authentic cultural value of their congregation. When I hear that, I feel like what they’re telling me is, “Sure, you should do hip-hop, because you’re Black and you grew up with it. But my church doesn’t have many Black people.”
This also misses the point somewhat, because what that Nielsen report tells us is that hip-hop music (and the culture surrounding it) is no longer just the domain of a minority subculture. It is a huge part of mainstream popular culture, and as it relates to contemporary music, it is the dominant culture. When Beyonce drops an album, it’s news. After 2016’s Lemonade, even middle-aged white comedians were conversant enough to make jokes about “Becky with the good hair.”
At this point, it seems like most churches end up in one of four quadrants. When it comes to hip-hop, they either:
- Ignore it
- Denounce it
- Tentatively embrace it
- Go all out in support of it
It’s been my experience that most churches take option No. 1, while some more reactionary churches end up in option No. 2 (mostly out of fear and ignorance). And the few churches I know of that take option No. 4 do so because they’re in multicultural urban contexts (like colleges, military bases or athlete fellowships) where hip-hop is lingua franca.
I think the best move is No. 3—a tentative embrace.
Alternatives and Solutions
Let me be clear: I’m not suggesting that every church needs to start incorporating trap beats, turntables and air horns into their worship services. It’s still important to maintain a sense of reverence and holiness.
However, what I think is true is that any pastor or church leader who is concerned about reaching people under 40 needs to have at least a basic grasp of certain aspects of hip-hop culture, and—more importantly—recognize that these artifacts are a major part of just how things are today. It could involve allowing the worship leader to experiment with using hip-hop beats as part of the instrumentation.
It might involve inviting local or regional (or, if you have the budget, national) hip-hop artists. It might be learning to incorporate certain hip-hop terms, slogans or mannerisms. (In one overwhelmingly white church, as a guest worship leader I led a call-and-response portion of a song where, instead of saying “amen,” the crowd was encouraged to chant “yes, yes, y’all.”)
Is this risky? Sure. Will there be times when it looks like God’s people are trying too hard to be cool? Probably. Will you make mistakes and offend people along the way? Almost certainly.
But the alternatives are also risky.
A lot of time what I hear from people in their protests of hip-hop is criticism of the rampant misogyny and consumerism, so they feel like their only option is to denounce it. But we also have a ton of consumerism and misogyny in the White House; that doesn’t mean we have to oppose the concept of the Executive Branch. The truth is, pastors should be able to help their people understand and reject the sinful elements in any culture, but you can only really do that well if you can also highlight the honorable elements. If pastors and other church leaders consistently fail in that process, they inadvertently deliver the message that they are out of touch and their judgment is not to be trusted.
And whether they fail consistently, or they just never even try in the first place, the net effect is the same—young people are driven away from the church. Spoiler alert: Jesus had something to say about people who cause others to stumble, and it’s not good.
So this opportunity represents a clear way forward in engaging generations to come with the gospel of Jesus Christ. Let’s hope that God raises up a generation of leaders who are up to the challenge.
by Jelani Greenidge, Urban Faith Contributing Writer | Apr 4, 2017 | Entertainment, Jelani Greenidge |
While the pop culture cognoscenti are impatiently waiting for another creative masterpiece in the form of Kendrick Lamar’s upcoming album, which is rumored to be released any day now, my hopes are a little more modest.
In recent interviews, Kendrick has indicated that his new album will have more of a focus on God. Whatever it ends up being, I hope that Lamar’s follow-up to the critically-acclaimed “To Pimp A Butterfly” will continue to break down the divide between sacred and secular hip-hop.
I realize that, for a segment of the urban Christian population, this idea goes completely against religious tradition. Many evangelicals and people of color, like myself, have grown up indoctrinated with the idea that Christians are to be distinct and withdrawn from the world, and that includes our art and music.
One need only look as far as last fall’s release of When Sacred Meets Secular by The Ambassador to see an expression of this worldview. In it, Amba raps passionately about his desire to be forthright and uncompromising with the Gospel message. I understand this position, and to a certain extent, I agree.
The Ambassador is right when he says that Christians should be free to share their faith in Christ with the public. However, the problem is that historically, Christian music hasn’t been free to roam in the public square of ideas. It’s been sequestered behind the artificially “safe” walls of Christian bookstores and websites.
And don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with building an audience among people of faith. However, when that becomes the industry standard, it means that artists are sometimes asked to be as non-controversial and “family-friendly” as possible, instead of creating the art that most candidly represents their pursuit of truth and relationship with God.
When the soccer moms and youth pastors are the ones calling the shots, you don’t want to ruffle feathers. Thus, Christians who rap for other Christians often feel pressure to self-censor anything that gets too real in an effort to avoid their music being branded as “unsafe” and pulled from circulation (like what happened with Sho Baraka and Lifeway).
What’s worse is that the problem is just as bad on the secular side, and for similar reasons. Artists know that sex, violence, and tales of the drug trade are all elements that boost record sales. Sure, there are plenty of rappers who talk about those things because that’s all they know, but the flip side is also true.
For many young rappers, it’s all they know because that’s all that gets talked about. For so long, we’ve exposed the young men and women in our community to such twisted caricatures of masculine and feminine behavior, that anything that deviates from the stereotypically “real” portrayal of urban life is derided as corny or fake—labels that Lecrae had to work hard to shake.
But slowly, that tide is turning.
Just about every Christian public figure who experiences a measure of commercial success in hip-hop ends up bristling against the stereotype of what a “Christian rapper” is or is not.
And on the secular side, there is a growing undercurrent of faith from rappers who aren’t known for doing “Christian” music. Not that this is a new phenomenon; rappers like DMX, Nas and even Tupac have been known to intersperse their chronicles of urban, street life with plaintive meditations of faith. But thanks to newer artists like Chance the Rapper and Kendrick Lamar, those meditations have become much more explicit.
During the 2017 Grammy Awards, Chance collaborated with gospel artists Kirk Franklin and Tamela Mann for a performance that included a cover of the Chris Tomlin hit praise anthem “How Great Is Our God.” And, in both of his critically-acclaimed albums (his debut Good Kid m.A.A.d. City and the follow-up To Pimp a Butterfly), Kendrick has included prayers, spiritual meditations, and even a depiction of Christian conversion.
So, where do you stand? Is it possible for hip hop to truly exist in both the secular and Christian space?
Perhaps the two sides will continue to converge, because many would argue that folks need examples of faith that are both relatable and artistically-challenging. They need new, fresh examples of what it means to grapple with faith in the real world.
Where do you stand on the topic of secular v. Christian hip hop? Share your thoughts below.
by Jelani Greenidge, Urban Faith Contributing Writer | Mar 13, 2015 | Entertainment, Jelani Greenidge |
PureFlix Entertainment, a trusted name in faith-friendly movies, has an urban inspirational film called Do You Believe on the way to theatres.
Director Jon Gunn, recruited by producer Harold Cronk and screenwriters Cary Solomon and Chuck Konzelman (the trio behind the 2014 release God’s Not Dead) is bringing to life a multi-layered emotional journey with an ensemble cast, headlined by Cybill Shepherd (“Moonlighting”) Lee Majors (“The Fall Guy”) and Ted McGinley (“The West Wing”) and also featuring a bevy of accomplished actors and stars-in-waiting, including JJ Soria (The Fast & The Furious, “Army Wives”) Mira Sorvino (“Falling Skies”) Senyo Amoaku (The Expendables), Sean Astin (The Lord of the Rings), Delroy Lindo (“The Chicago Code”) Tracy Melchior (“The Bold & The Beautiful”), former UFC champion Mavrick von Haug, and rapper Shwayze.
In October, I traveled to Grand Rapids, Michigan for a meet-and-greet with several members of the cast and crew, and then visited the set, on location in sleepy Manistee (right off the coast of Lake Michigan), in order to get an insider view on how the film was coming along.
Full disclosure, the travel costs were covered by PureFlix and their promotional partners, so of course, I heard 48 hours of nonstop praise for the film. However, I have a pretty active layer of skepticism whenever I’m subjected to boilerplate marketing copy, and I still came away from the experience feeling pretty good about the movie’s prospects, not only as a successful commercial investment, but as a vehicle for evangelism.
Here are three reasons why…
1. It has a relatively diverse cast.
Borrowing from the Crash playbook requires a wider variety of characters than what we saw in God’s Not Dead, and it appears that with Do You Believe, we’ll get it. Cybill Shepherd and Lee Majors may be headlining as the graceful diva / elder statesman combo, but in the clips we saw and the cast that we heard from directly (as well as other cast referenced whose shooting schedules didn’t coincide with the set visit, such as the aforementioned Delrey Lindo), it seems like diversity is a priority in this picture. That doesn’t ensure greatness, of course, but for audiences who prioritize it, it’d be a reason for a second glance at the multiplex or the Redbox.
Ensemble films can be hit or miss, because they require a lot of story juggling and have less time for character development or plot exposition. But this one seems to be well cast. I’m particularly looking forward to seeing more of JJ Soria’s character, who is one of the film’s heroes, and who has an extended action sequence during the finale. The last time I saw a faith-based film with a strong Latino lead was Eduardo Verástegui in the 2007 indie film Bella. In the cast Q&A, Soria mentioned that he often turns down faith-friendly scripts because they’re too cheesy, but in this case, he made an exception. Here’s hoping that JJ Soria can keep building his faith-film curriculum vita.
2. The tone seems to be less combative than the previous film.
From the title itself to the poster art to the scripted showdowns between professor and student, God’s Not Dead clearly appealed to a subset of Christian audiences who are conservative, weary from being disparaged by secular press, and in the words of character Howard Beale from Network, “mad as hell and not going to take it anymore.”
In this film, that strident feel seems a little toned down. The issues of Christian identity in the public square are still there – one of the characters’ life is turned upside down after sharing his faith in the middle of a work-related crisis – and they might still have the same thought-provoking result, but the clips that we saw didn’t seem to be as shrill or confrontational.
This bodes well for the film, because I’m sure the release date is designed to coincide with Easter and facilitate a massive campaign for churches to invite nonbelievers to the local multiplex for a screening of the film. Living in the Pacific Northwest, one of the most unchurched regions in the country, it’s been my experience that people who aren’t believers don’t like being lectured to onscreen.
3. Bigger budget, actual action sequences
The financial success of God’s Not Dead has given the filmmakers a larger margin of error, which has given them a bit more creative freedom to stage more of the kind of dramatic sequences with action and spectacle that are cost-prohibitive when filmmaking on a shoestring budget. Obviously, no one will mistake this film for a Michael Bay or Jerry Bruckheimer production, but the location of Manistee, MI seemed like an inspired choice, not only for its bucolic views and enthusiastic locals, but because many of the costs associated with staging and fabricating stunts and stunt vehicles can be done more inexpensively and with less red tape in small-town Michigan than in New York City or Los Angeles.
These three factors by themselves certainly do not ensure a successful film, either commercially or artistically. However, the sneak peek I got from PureFlix Entertainment makes me think that this spring, Christian audiences will be in for a treat.
Here’s to hoping they’re right.
by Jelani Greenidge, Urban Faith Contributing Writer | Feb 12, 2015 | Entertainment, Jelani Greenidge |
Welcome to Part 2 of Testifyin’ or Signifyin’, an analysis of whether the many choir appearances and Christian allusions presented at the Grammy Awards were doing good work or perpetrating a fraud. As a reminder, here is the scale that I based my assessment on:
-Artistic style points: How does the choir enhance or detract from the overall experience?
-Social buzz: Did it look like a stunt to get attention, or was it a naturally buzzworthy performance?
-The faith factor: Does the song sound like an authentic expression of faith?
-Special circumstances: Is there anything else that elevates or detracts? Is there a certain je ne sais quoi about the musical performance?*
From this thoroughly biased, quasi-scientific process,** each song was given an appropriation index, and a final verdict. Is the choir appearance in this song one that testifies to the goodness of God, or is it signifyin’ – playfully insulting the faithful with irreligious or profane imagery?
Let’s go (back) to the tape!
Pharrell, “Happy”
Appropriation index: 3
Pharrell performing “Happy” at the 2015 Grammy Awards.
I give him one thing right off the top – Pharrell Williams is nothing if not eclectic. And considering how ubiquitous his hit was in 2014, you knew that for this special night, he was going to have to do something different.
And different, it was.
From the dramatic spoken word opening (interpreted in various foreign languages) to the string-heavy orchestral accompaniment, to the impressive solo from Chinese pianist Lang Lang, to the phalanx of players, dancers and singers accessorized in white, black and yellow, it seemed like the production was designed to elicit gasps every 30 seconds. By the end of the song, I was expecting military helicopters to detonate the roof so that a UFO could abduct Pharrell with a beam of light, “Close Encounters” style.
Ironically, the one emotion this song didn’t seem to really capture was happiness. The first chorus was in a minor key, and hearing the sound of the choir belting out the words about happiness to minor string arpeggios felt a little ominous. During the solo, his brown-skinned, black-hooded dancers, adopted the “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot” pose, which has become the universal sign of nonverbal protest against police brutality. That was great! I loved that he put that in there, but that’s not exactly a posture of happiness.
Matter of fact, It took almost four minutes for the arrangement to sound at all like the song we’ve all grown to like, love, and then get tired of.
So on the one hand, I give Pharrell a lot of credit for trying to endow more significance to a song that was initially just about being so happy that you don’t give a bleep what people think. On the other hand, I think his exuberance and willingness to jam so many ideas and images into one song made it feel chaotic and scattered. Whatever unity of message he was trying to deliver was sidetracked by the variety of spectacle and the thematic disconnect between interpersonal happiness and societal injustice.
But those yellow-sequined shoes, those were kinda fly. Was that enough to make up for the existential crisis we all witnessed? It’s hard to say.
The verdict: BOTH TESTIFYIN’ AND SIGNIFYIN’
Beyoncé, “Take my Hand, Precious Lord”
Appropriation score: 1.5
Beyonce performing “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” at the 2015 Grammy Awards.
Okay, so here’s the thing.
Beyoncé sang “Precious Lord, Take My Hand,” accompanied by a choir of tuxedoed black men. It’s the same song that the Mahalia Jackson was famous for singing, widely reported as Dr. King’s favorite.
As Kevin Bacon said in A Few Good Men, these are the facts, and they are indisputable.
But if you were on social media at all during the telecast on Sunday night, then you know this much already. And you’ve likely heard a hundred different takes, all clustered around two basic questions – did she do the song justice, and/or should someone else have been invited – namely Ledisi, who played Mahalia Jackson in Selma, and who’s garnered a reputation of her own as an incredible soul singer.
Here’s my take.
I think she did a nice job. Not a great job, but a good one. I would’ve preferred Ledisi do it, but it’s obvious that eyeballs rule when television decisions are being made, and no one can deny that Ledisi wouldn’t deliver anywhere near the number of eyeballs as Queen Bey.
That said, it was clear from her performance that the song was meaningful to her, and just in case the performance wasn’t convincing, she also had someone cut a brief rehearsal documentary to talk about why she wanted to do it and why she had a choir of black men up there with her. In it, she mentions the struggles her parents and grandparents faced, and she talks about how she wanted to sing from their pain.
I think that’s an admirable goal, but slightly misguided. Struggle and pain are not exactly synonymous with the Beyoncé brand. Not that she doesn’t have problems like the next person, but, well, no, she doesn’t. Not that she doesn’t have problems, but they’re not like the next person’s. (I’m resisting the obvious Jay-Z joke there.)
So yeah, it looks a little hypocritical to win a Grammy for “Drunk In Love” and then get up to sing that song. She certainly had a right to do it, and it made plenty of good business sense to do it, but I think it would’ve been classier to at least share the stage with Ledisi. Especially with her sheer, flowing quasi-wedding dress look, the whole thing just looked a little self-indulgent. The tenor of the performance was grounded enough overall that the whole thing still went relatively well. But, in this case, she needed the choir a lot more than the choir needed her. I could’ve just watched the choir by itself and been fine.
Also, I could’ve lived without a few of her runs, and maybe a little less of her rapid vibrato.
The verdict: TESTIFYIN’ (mostly)
John Legend featuring Common, “Glory”
Appropriation score: 0
What’s a zero appropriation score mean? It means they brought it.
Common & John Legend performing “Glory” at the 2015 Grammy Awards.
The rap bars were passionate and on-point. The lyrics were full of Scriptural references that embodied the struggle for civil rights. And, more than anything else, it seemed that both Common and John Legend, in their respective rhyming and crooning, were using their voices as proxies for the collective whole, not grabbing the spotlight for themselves.
And the choir was perfect. Dignified, but still full of fighter’s passion. Restrained, but pulsating with rhythmic intensity. As Common’s wordplay danced between the staccato bows of the strings, and John Legend’s plaintive wails echoed against his stark piano chords, the choir continued to respond to their call. Purely aesthetically, it was amazing.
But most importantly, the song seemed to echo God’s truth for all people – that we long for the Lord’s coming because His return will usher in a new era of justice and peace. And in that judgment, on that cataclysmic day, we will not only see the Lord’s glory, but we’ll be able to partake in it.
What I loved most about the arrangement was the very end, right when it looked like it was over, the strings kept playing as the lights dimmed on the two soloists, and the last moment left was the voice of the choir, vicariously standing in for all of us who yearn for His return, proclaiming in one voice:
“Glory.”
The verdict: TESTIFYING!!! (add more exclamation points as needed)
But that’s just my take, what’s yours? Leave it in the comments.
Note:
*Yes, I realize the irony of borrowing a French expression in an article about cultural appropriation. Welcome to America.
** In this case, “quasi-scientific” is a euphemism for “not at all scientific.”
by Jelani Greenidge, Urban Faith Contributing Writer | Feb 11, 2015 | Entertainment, Jelani Greenidge |
Signifying… it’s one of the many terms that people have used for the historically black pastime of tossing playful insults back and forth, also known across generations as “cappin’,” “playin’ the dozens,” “stingin’,” et cetera. And testifying…well, if you’ve been to a black church, you know what testifying is. And chances are, that testifyin’ happened while a black church choir was present, swaying, clapping, and generally responding to the call flowing forth from the preacher or soloist.
This is probably how Beyoncé, John Legend, Katy Perry, Sam Smith, Madonna, Mary J. Blige, and Pharrell first learned it. Because if you were a musician blessed with enough good fortune to perform at the 2015 GRAMMY Awards, chances are, you probably had a black choir or vocal ensemble back you up. (Notice I didn’t say gospel choir…it may be semantics but I reserve the word gospel for actual gospel music.)
Not that this is a recent phenomenon. Pop artists have adorned their live sets with choirs for years. It can amp up the dramatic element, and makes for a great visual. However, anytime entertainment reaches this level of influence and scale, the politics of identity are unavoidable. In particular, artists – especially white artists – tend to open themselves up to the charge of cultural appropriation when using black choirs as backup singers. More often than not, the appearance of a choir endows the music with a sense of spirituality, even when the lyrics are less-than-spiritual in nature.
And yet, cultural appropriation is never just a black-and-white matter. Plenty of white, popular artists have no problem takin’ it to church, and some black artists do it and end up looking less-than-stellar. For a variety of reasons, some choir appearances work better than others. And in this GRAMMY celebration, it seemed like there was an undercurrent of spirituality, even stronger than in recent years. Even songs like “By the Grace of God” and “Take Me to Church,” while not having choirs per se, still carried an air of churchiness not usually seen on this stage.
So in order to make some sense of things, I took all the Grammy musical performances that involved choirs or had significant Christian imagery, and rated them for the following characteristics:
-Artistic style points: How does the choir enhance or detract from the overall experience?
-Social buzz: Did it look like a stunt to get attention, or was it a naturally buzzworthy performance?
-The faith factor: Does the song sound like an authentic expression of faith?
-Special circumstances: Is there anything else that elevates or detracts? Is there a certain je ne sais quoi about the musical performance?*
From this thoroughly biased, quasi-scientific process,** each song was given an appropriation index, and a final verdict. Is the choir appearance in this song one that testifies to the goodness of God, or is it signifyin’ – playfully insulting the faithful with irreligious or profane imagery?
Let’s go to the tape!
Katy Perry, “By the Grace of God”
Appropriation Index: 7.5
Not gonna lie, this song surprised me. I was only familiar with a few selections from the Katy Perry catalog, so I expected either something really saccharine and overwrought (like pretty much anything by Celine Dion) or something really cold and distant (like Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”). Instead, what I heard felt, at first listen, like an instant classic, a song worthy of the main stage. As I listened, I couldn’t help comparing it to Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” especially because of the way it was staged. The white dress and the white backdrop with the interpretive dance behind, it all seemed very classy and polished, like the kind of production you might’ve seen from CeCe Winans in the late 90s. Though there was no choir, there were some really sweet background vocals toward the end, like maybe Katy Perry’s road manager hired a couple of the ladies from either Virtue or En Vogue, but just for one song.
Although I figured it didn’t have an explicitly gospel message, I knew it was preceded by an important message from President Obama about domestic violence, so I was ready to receive Katy Perry’s uplifting message about escaping — wait, what? The last line of the refrain begins, “so I decided to stay”??? Is this a song about leaving an abusive relationship, or staying in an abusive relationship? Does she move out of the apartment but still stay in the neighborhood? I’m so confused.
As someone who has never dealt with domestic violence, I don’t feel especially qualified to assess the moral validity of a domestic violence anthem. That said, if the emotional climax of a song about domestic abuse leaves open the question of whether such abuse should continue, that seems pretty unsatisfying. And if you prefer the sunnier interpretation, that it’s just about difficulty in a long-term relationship, then why precede it with stern words from No. 44?
I’ve since listened to the song three times in a row, and while I love that grace is at the center of it, the overall meaning of the song still feels unclear. It seems less like Katy Perry is embracing the mystery and ambiguity inherent in the pursuit of authentic Christian faith, and more like she tried to write a song that people on both sides of the issue would like. That feels dishonest, lame, and sadly, it’s exactly what I would expect from an artist of her caliber – a shame, because the song really does sound beautiful.
The verdict: SIGNIFYIN’ (barely)
Sam Smith featuring Mary J. Blige, “Stay With Me”
Appropriation Index: 4
A quick word about the Appropriation Index – the higher the number, the more appropriation has taken place, which in my view, is hardly appropriate (how ironic). And again, because I was unfamiliar with Sam Smith, I did not know what to expect. And like the Katy Perry tune, I was pleasantly surprised.
I was also surprised when I read the lyrics, because I had no idea what the song was really about until it was almost over. I don’t know how I missed it – the very first line refers to a one-night stand. I guess I was won over by the simplicity of the chorus, which was carried by Smith first, then by Mary J. Blige, and finally a very stately sounding choir. Soulful, but not too far out there.
The choir helped it to pass one of my appropriation tests – could you sing it in church with a straight face? If I didn’t know this was a Sam Smith song, and someone made a few tactful edits to the verse, I’d say yes, absolutely, and put it in the same corner of gospel-influenced hits as Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is.” You could easily pair this song with a reading from Psalm 51, and it would be powerful.
And honestly, now that I know that it’s about the self-loathing sense of desperation after a tryst, it feels even more honest and resonant. Because who among us can call out to God for help from a place of complete blamelessness?
But I could’ve done without quite so many goo-goo eyes between Sam and Mary J.
The verdict: TESTIFYIN’
Hozier featuring Annie Lenox, “Take Me to Church”
Appropriation Index: 8
This was a hard one to review, because I really like Annie Lennox (I use Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams” as a go-to karaoke jam) but I’d never heard of Hozier and all I knew about the song beforehand was the title.
Speaking of which, let’s talk about this title. Now, I realize that white people go to church. But white people, by and large, do not take it to church, musically speaking. No judge on American Idol is ever going to remark to a soloist, “boy, you really took us to church… I mean, a typical Midwest Lutheran church, that is. Your performance was perfunctory and unemotional.” Like, people don’t do that.
So between the combination of all the tweets and Facebook statuses I saw about how Annie Lennox “killed it,” “shut it down,” etc, and the title of the song, I was ready for some good ol’ fashioned chuuch.
And then I actually listened to the song.
Ummm… no.
In “Take Me to Church,” Hozier does what plenty of others have done before him in order to get a rise from the audience, he uses sacred words and imagery to paint a very dark picture. Even if you ignore the original video depicting a same-sex relationship (odd since the lyrics are written by a man about a woman), the lyrics are pretty antagonistic toward faith in general:
Take me to church / I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death / Good God, let me give you my life
This song is like the sonic equivalent of Andres Serrano’s urine-soaked crucifix. It’s bold, provocative, and to most Christians, patently offensive. I personally wasn’t offended, but I was disappointed. Not that God couldn’t use it, of course… He can use anything. This particular bluesy-rock medley was long on emotion, for sure, but short on anything that resembled spiritual truth.
Though it does explain why Annie Lennox, in her cameo appearance, segued into “I Put A Spell On You.” If you’re gonna do the anti-Christian thing, you might as well go all out.
The verdict: SIGNIFYIN’
Madonna, “Living for Love”
Appropriation Index: 9.5
The appropriation index is probably a little high for just this song, but you have to take the context into the matter. Madonna has made a career out of flouting the rules of the religious establishment. She took her stage name from the virginal mother of God, and her first hit was about how sex with her new boyfriend makes her feel “Like A Virgin.”
So it’s not like I didn’t know what to expect. And by her standards this was maybe even a little restrained, but that’s only because there was no cameo appearance of Dennis Rodman making out with Kim Jong-un. As it was, her major visual accompaniment was a fleet of glistening, masked topless men with bull horns affixed to their heads, leaping and undulating to the rhythm. Some people thought it looked satanic, I just thought it was rather bizarre.
As for the song itself, I actually liked it, somewhat. It was a bouncy anthem, fun and fresh feeling, much like, “Like A Prayer.” The choir came out at the end, clad in bright red robes, clapping and swaying. Thankfully by that point, Madonna was done with her more salacious pelvic thrusts, but still, the disconnect between how much they were wearing and and how little she was wearing was still a little jarring.
Also, I did find it odd that the song is called “Living for Love” when the lyrics make it clear it’s actually a break-up song. The overall message of the song appears to be, I’m living for love, and since I’m not getting enough from you, I’m outta here. But you wouldn’t know that from the chorus or the vamp, which consists mostly of the phrases “I’m living for love” and “I’m not giving up.”
It’s as if the two parts of the song were written by two people in separate rooms who couldn’t communicate until after the song was over.
“I can’t do this anymore!”
“What?! I thought we weren’t giving up?!”
The verdict: SIGNIFYIN’ (like a mug)
But that’s just my take, what’s yours? Leave it in the comments, and be sure to come back tomorrow for part two where I will take on Pharrell’s “Happy,” Beyonce’s “Take My Hand, Precious Lord,” and John Legend & Common’s “Glory.”
Notes:
*Yes, I realize the irony of borrowing a French expression in an article about cultural appropriation. Welcome to America.
** In this case, “quasi-scientific” is a euphemism for “not at all scientific.”
