Caught between the chords

I don’t mind progress; if progress is actually an effort to move forward. I don’t mind the past. I love history. I don’t mind being stuck in a rut, although if it’s a muddy rut I would prefer to get out sooner than a dry rut. It’s being caught in the middle that bothers me. I grew up a child of the 60’s. I grew up in a church that sang. We used the piano, if we had a piano player, and we used the hymnbook. Sunday nights we sang out of the Stamps and Baxter book. By my words, “we sang”, I meant we sang. All four verses, all the parts and we sang for half an hour. I learned to sing alto by sitting with my Grandma and Maribel Hunt. I learned to sing tenor when Grandma’s voice changed. I played the piano, I turned pages and I loved that part of church. I’m not sure why, maybe because music was a part of my heart. School music and choir did not move me although I could listen to Jim Reeves, Eddy Arnold and Marty Robbins for hours lying on the carpet by the old phonograph. We didn’t have TV; I listened to music. My first live concert was going to see Andre’ Crouch in Hartford. Music was a way God spoke.

Things have changed. Music doesn’t take over the hearts of people at church as much anymore because we have diluted it’s presence. The clock is ticking and the approach to modern singing in church doesn’t give us room for music to minister. We used to have preludes, postludes, special music, live music, real musicians and lots of harmony. It’s all canned now. Not many live musicians and special music adorn the stage. There are now click tracks, and drone sounding music that is produced electronically. It all sounds the same. It’s slower, it’s moodier and doesn’t give the chance to get up and dance, clap and harmony is out of the question if you don’t naturally hear it. There is no music to learn, watch the notes, see the harmonious structure and join in as you read through the staffs. The songbooks have been replaced by words projected on the screen with video’s behind them and lights and fog machines. And for many of us, we feel caught between the chords. We were on a G and now everything is diminished. When we change to the diminished chord, it’s suddenly augmented. Music ministry in the church is four songs Sunday morning. We have lost the creativity, the choirs, the quartets and the chorus. There are no other options during the week to be with others creating music and letting it creatively move within the heart.

I am not against progression but it seems that we have gone backwards. I listened to the prelude music the other day and it wasn’t even a song: just a bunch of droned chords and sounded like elevator music. I couldn’t recognize the song, couldn’t relate to it lyrics that had meaning to me and it was all electronically produced. There was no instrument I could name or identify in a line up of the orchestra.

I am not against progression, but let’s progress. I haven’t forgotten the time when the praise songs came about. “Pass it on” was all we heard. Then it was the 7/11 songs. We sang seven words eleven times and then repeated that. Lord I lift your name on high and Shout to the Lord seemed “edgy” and now we would give anything to have a bit of that edgy to get us back on a chord we recognize.

Sunday night Cowboy church wound up. It was a bit obvious that people wanted to get out and play and the stage was packed with musicians; acoustic instruments. Harmony, pickin and grinnin’, old familiar, new “old” western songs but what I noticed was the chord structures were where we all felt comfortable. We were on a chord we knew. We could play along. We could sing along and we let the music take over our hearts and emotions.

I am not against progression but most of the time I feel caught between the chords.