somewhat sille, that's me!

I don't write songs when I'm happy. When I'm content, I take my wife out to dinner, I go surfing. I hang out with my friends and play ridiculous cover tunes when I'm happy. But when I'm depressed, I turn to look for something beyond this life. When I'm lonely and nothing makes sense and the world has lost it's flavor I search for notes and words that usher in a transcendence that soars high above the tragedy. I look for to song to understand the present tragedy in the context of a hope for a better world. I look for words that remind me of a bigger story, for songs that acknowledge the tragedy and move beyond it. I look to artists who give me windows, words that provide for a new life to be birthed within me.

Is it escape? Is it a coping mechanism? Maybe a bit, but I feel that it is much more than that. The song becomes a hopeful defiance. A declaration that the injustices and absurdities of our postmodern existence are not the final downbeat. Music becomes a confession of disbelief in the world that surrounds me. A refusal to believe that these tragedies and horrors are the ultimate end. A refusal to accept the oppression of the Dalit's as anything other than tragic. A nonacceptance that the starving six year old is anything other than tragic. The song is written in defense of a world beyond this one, in defense of Truths that seldom make it to the front page of the newspaper. Words create worlds.

jon foreman, via huffington post

thanks, jon.

Your voice has stilled the raging storms
the wind and waves bow down before
Your still small voice brings hope to all
who wait on You, we'll wait for You
to lead us to the place where You'll restore our souls
and all our earthly strivings come to cease

take from our souls the strain and stress
and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of Your peace

bright skies will soon be overhead
we'll enter in to Heaven's rest
there'll be no death, there'll be no pain
the things of old will pass away
You'll lead us to the place where You'll restore our souls
and all our earthly strivings come to cease

tim hughes :: beauty of your peace

breathe, ellis, breathe.