Wednesday, April 7, 2004

Secular Hymns of Hope and Vinyl

Easter is a time for renewal, rebirth, atonement and pastel colored eggs. The Church celebrates the resurrection of hope as the world blossoms forth anew with color. The hymns that are sung at Sunday services can heal and soothe those on the journey of life. Somehow our suffering and loneliness is lighter with a song.

Christ reached out to the unloved and lowly, people not in the mainstream of society. The forgotten ones. So this year I am making a list of secular hymns, songs that can be found buried like Easter eggs in the vast landscape of recorded music. I have them all, but I don’t have time to make a tape or CD for everyone. You just have to round them up and put them all together. Think of it as a scavenger hunt for the oddballs and misfits who need love too.

Having said that, I will open with a goody. If you read my column about the Grammys, you will recall that I am a major music snob. I don’t listen to the radio unless I absolutely have to. If I do, it’s 88.5 until they get annoying and then I switch to oldies. I steer away from music that is promoted in TV commercials, the product of star searches, or overheard in heavy rotation at big box shopping venues. I don’t read Rolling Stone. I don’t watch MTV. I don’t care about the “Top 10.” In this mega-age of music, where remixes, alternate versions and bonus tracks can bend your ear off the side of your head, finding that one song which expresses exactly how you feel can be daunting, even for people who have some taste.

Therefore, I begin with Felt. From their album, “Me and a Monkey on the Moon” comes “New Day Dawning.” Lawrence, the voice and mind behind this now-defunct piece of musical fabric ended a 10-year career in obscurity saying “Good morning” to the 90s that caps a deeply touching set of country-flavored rock ballads by delivering one of the greatest unknown guitar lead-outs in history. If this song doesn’t touch you, then you need serious help, my friend!

Next up is something from one of Klaus Flouride’s solo efforts, “Because I Say So.” The ex-Dead Kennedy may have taken a back seat to frontman extraordinaire, Jello Biafra, but he proved he could make an impenetrable album of odd instrumentals and scary soundscapes all his own. Within that frightening mess is a true buried jewel. “Keep on Walking” slowly builds on the simple refrain, “How you gonna keep your head off the ground? Keep on walking,” until you can’t help but sing along. And when the journey’s done, quickly rush to the stereo and rip off the needle so you don’t have to subject yourself to “Born Again Dentistry.”

Just to show I’m not completely averse to sweetness and light, I offer up The Korgis. These ultra-wimps from the 80s may have been in fear for their lives when they stepped out of the studio into the harsh sunlight, but their “Best of” collection makes your teeth hurt. “Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime” is so gorgeous and poptastic, its message of renewal throttles you with a string arrangement that’s just not fair!

Hubert Kah. Yeah, their career was nowhere, but there are a couple things worth having by them. Actually, there are only a couple things in their entire catalog, but a B-side that fits nicely into my stack of heart-rending and/or room clearing melodies, depending on your level of aural tolerance would, of course, be “Explain the World in a Word,” the flipside of the “Military Drums” single. “Love is the the answer one more time,” is their refrain. Either you will agree with them in the long run or run back to the store and demand your money back. By the way, the constant tempering of my own opinion is just the results of years of being defensive and thin-skinned to avoid persuasive remarks from people who are clearly wrong in their thinking. After all, people are only human.

“Free Yourself,” a dynamite dose of ska from the west coast band, The Untouchables, no thanks to Frank Nitty, explodes with an energy they never really recaptured. They didn’t try all that hard, granted. The few releases they did have are out there somewhere. I have mine, but you can’t touch it or even look at it. I found it first. It’s a really cool song, though. You would probably dig it, if you could.

My last pick, for I can only afford half a dozen eggs this go round, is from Feargal Sharkey. Why Feargal Sharkey? I don’t know. I just like saying Feargal Sharkey. He left The Undertones, a seminal Irish pop/punk outfit from the “olden days” to try a solo effort or two. His first record called “Feargal Sharkey,” was well-crafted, one of those albums that grows on you over time. The opening track, “A Good Heart,” should be regular radio airplay fare like the rest of this list. Perhaps it’s his exotic singing style that puts people off. It lies somewhere between Eartha Kitt and Little Richard if Eartha and Little were from Dublin and hated U2. Personally, I like Feargal Sharkey’s voice almost as much as I like saying his name.

Well, that’s it. The list would have been longer if I could have stopped myself from hammering home my points in that subtle way I have. It’s one side of a tape anyway. Maybe you can put some of that lamo junk you listen to on the other side to sort of cleanse the palate, like lemon sherbet.

Of course, if I were the Easter bunny, I’d just listen to hip-hop.