Indie Christ

[anthonyeaston.livejournal.com]

Thinking about freakytigger's recent discovery of Sufjan, and how he did not really understand the Jesus stuff, he is English. 80 per cent of Americans are Xian’s, and most suburban indie saddos are as well--Sufjan and the others are an attempt to find the genuine message of Christ, an earnest exploring of tender religious devotion... (And its two days before Christmas, the occasional reminder of why some of us find the holiday important is all right, amongst the Santas and hippos, I figure)

It is hard to explain to Europe, North America's obsession with Jesus. It is even harder to explain the popularity of young and smart creative types wrestling with a neo-orthodox Jacob, parental rebellion and dissatisfaction with the culture only go so far.

I cannot explain it, because I feel so much--and others who have tried, have been bogged down with variations of pop anthropology (the excellent Anne Powers on the alternative worship services at Mars Hill.) But to understand it, is to listen to it--and while I am sure that he has heard the Danielson Familee, and Sufjan, and he has gone into the freak folk missions in the 60s, through Gareth Lee, and I will not inflict praise and worship here, I want him to listen to this.

Page France, I know nothing about, and it is much better then the other update of Chariot symbolism this year (Gretchen Wilson). This song, about the rapture, and about the end of the world, is so tender, hopeful, optimistic, and free of fire and brimstone. It is about what people feel in the heart of hearts, to use a cliché.

In Matthew Christ tells us to go into the closet, and close the door to pray--there is something so hard about this...it is easy to mock lo-fi emo boys with their 4 tracks, singing love songs to girls who will never really love them, imagine finding a girl who will love you forever, all of that trepidation about adolescent desire remains, but their is a surety there too.

MP3: here

The Poptimists Advent Calendar Day 23

[freakytigger.livejournal.com]

Wobs is a time for ritual, maybe especially in irreligious families which don't have masses and services to structure the season around. The purchase of the Christmas Radio Times, for example, takes on a significance every bit as profound as any carolling or wassailing. Even though almost none of the things lovingly marked with a "T" for Tom ended up being watched.

This song is a perennial favourite of mine through no fault of its 'composer'. The older tune it lifts was used as station ident background music by the BBC during several early 80s years, and as such it's become a permanent part of my private Christmas. My tape of an Australian singing christmas carols snapped years ago. My rolls of shiny stamped-out sequin plastic that a dressmaker friend gave my Mum and that I would decorate my bedroom with are lost. Even my Christmas stocking, poorly embroidered by an aunt, seems to have gone missing. This endures.

( Can you guess what it is yet? )