George Harrison – Art Of Dying – Lyrics

Francis Schaeffer pictured below:

George Harrison is the only member of the Beatles who stuck with Hinduism while the other three abandoned it shortly after their one trip to India.  Francis Schaeffer noted, ” The younger people and the older ones tried drug taking but then turned to the eastern religions. Both drugs and the eastern religions seek truth inside one’s own head, a negation of reason. The central reason of the popularity of eastern religions in the west is a hope for a nonrational meaning to life and values. The reason the young people turn to eastern religion is simply the fact as we have said and that is that man having moved into the area of nonreason could put anything up there and the heart of the eastern religions  is a denial of reason just exactly as the idealistic drug taking was.”

In the article below from Wikipedia it is noted:

For the last 30 or more years of his life, George Harrison repeatedly identified his first experience of taking the hallucinogenic drug LSD, with John Lennon and their wives, as being responsible for his interest in spirituality and Hinduism.^[2][3][4][5] The “trip” occurred by accident in February 1965,^[6][7][8] and he later recalled a thought coming to his mind during the experience: “‘Yogis of the Himalayas.’ I don’t know why … It was like somebody was whispering to me: ‘Yogis of the Himalayas.'”^[5]

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George Harrison – Art of Dying

george harrison – art of dying ( take 9 )

Art of Dying (song)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

“Art of Dying”
Cover of the original Hansen Publishing sheet music for the song
Song by George Harrison from the album All Things Must Pass
Published	Harrisongs
Released	27 November 1970
Genre	Rock, hard rock
Length	3:37
Label	Apple
Writer(s)	George Harrison
Producer(s)	George Harrison, Phil Spector
All Things Must Pass track listing
[show]23 tracks

“Art of Dying” is a song by English musician George Harrison, released on his 1970 triple album All Things Must Pass. It was written in 1966–67 when Harrison first became immersed in Hindu spirituality, and its subject matter is reincarnation – the “art” in question being the need to avoid rebirth, by limiting actions and thoughts whose consequences lead to one’s soul returning in another, earthbound life form. The song was co-produced by Phil Spector and features a hard-charging rock arrangement that has been described as “proto-disco“.^[1] The backing musicians include Eric Clapton and the rest of the latter’s short-lived band Derek and the Dominos, as well as Gary Wright, Billy Preston and a teenage Phil Collins.

Since Harrison’s death in November 2001, the lyrics of “Art of Dying” have been much quoted as a comment on the nature of human existence.

Contents

 [hide] 

• 1Background and composition
• 2Recording
• 3Release and reception
• 4Other versions
• 5Personnel
• 6Notes
• 7References
• 8Sources
• 9External links

Background and composition[edit]

For the last 30 or more years of his life, George Harrison repeatedly identified his first experience of taking the hallucinogenic drug LSD, with John Lennon and their wives, as being responsible for his interest in spirituality and Hinduism.^[2][3][4][5] The “trip” occurred by accident in February 1965,^[6][7][8] and he later recalled a thought coming to his mind during the experience: “‘Yogis of the Himalayas.’ I don’t know why … It was like somebody was whispering to me: ‘Yogis of the Himalayas.'”^[5] A visit in August 1967 to the epicentre of hippie conterculturalism, San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district, then persuaded him to abandon LSD and pursue a spiritual path through meditation.^[9][10] By that point, Harrison had already immersed himself in Indian music, which is irrevocably tied to spirituality,^[11][12] and dealt with what author Ian MacDonald terms “the spiritual aridity of modern life”^[13] in his song “Within You Without You” (on the Beatles‘ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band).^[14][15] He had also begun writing a song dedicated to the Hindu concept of reincarnation and the inevitability of death, “Art of Dying”.^[16]

There’ll come a time when all of us must leave here
There’s nothing Sister Mary can do, will keep me here with you
As nothing in this life that I’ve been trying
Can equal or surpass the Art of Dying.

The mention of “Sister Mary” refers to the Catholic faith in which Harrison had been brought up as a child.^[17] Speaking to author Peter Doggett, Harrison’s sister Louise qualified his embracing of Hinduism with regard to his upbringing: “Our family were Catholics, but we always had a global outlook. We were spiritual, not religious as such. George didn’t change as a person after he went to India [in 1966] …”^[18]

Rather than Sister Mary, Harrison’s original lyric named “Mr Epstein” – the Beatles’ manager, Brian Epstein.^[19][20] Given this reference to Epstein, author Bruce Spizer has speculated that Harrison was “contemplating life after the Beatles” as early as mid 1966, since “most of the song’s original verses recognise that even Mr. Epstein won’t be able to keep the group together or help out when it’s over …”^[21]

As Harrison explains in his autobiography, I, Me, Mine, in most cases one’s soul does not in fact “leave here” after death, due to the karmic debt, or “load”, accrued through actions and thoughts carried out in one’s lifetime.^[22] This point is illustrated in the third verse of “Art of Dying”:^[23]

There’ll come a time when most of us return here
Brought back by our desire to be a perfect entity
Living through a million years of crying
Until you realize the Art of Dying.

The mention of “a million years of crying” is a reference to the endless cycle of rebirth associated with reincarnation, where the soul repeatedly fails to leave the material world and attain nirvana,^[24] otherwise known as moksha.^[25]

Written in a period shortly before “karma”, “mantra“, “guru” and “māyā” all became key words in his vocabulary,^[26] Harrison shows an acknowledgment of possible confusion on the part of his listeners, and a degree of humour,^[16] with the pointed questions that appear at the end of the verses, “Are you still with me?” and “Do you believe me?“^[23] The subject of rebirth was one he would return to frequently throughout his solo career,^[27] notably on “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)“, with its pleas “Keep me free from birth” and “Help me cope with this heavy load“.^[28][29]

Recording[edit]

On 26 May 1970, a month after the Beatles’ break-up, “Art of Dying” was one of many songs performed by Harrison for Phil Spector‘s benefit at Abbey Road Studios,^[30] with a view to narrowing down the material under consideration for All Things Must Pass.^[31]Harrison strummed the song on acoustic guitar, but as with “Isn’t It a Pity“, “Run of the Mill“, “Let It Down” and other selections, its arrangement would be transformed significantly as the album sessions progressed;^[21] in this instance, Spector’s production on the official release provided a “[big] ‘kitchen sink’ job”, as authors Chip Madinger and Mark Easter put it.^[20] A widely bootlegged version known as “Art of Dying (take 9)”, comprising a band performance dominated by acoustic rhythm guitars and piano, with Ringo Starr on drums, sees the song somewhere midway between the solo run-through and the All Things Must Pass arrangement.^[20] This take 9, played in the key of B♭ minor, a semitone up from that of the official version of the song, was still in contention for release during the album’s mixing phase.^[20]

In a chapter discussing All Things Must Pass in his 2010 autobiography, American musician Bobby Whitlock writes of recording the song: “It was awesome when we were doing ‘The Art of Dying,’ Eric [Clapton] on that wah-wah and it was all cooking, Derek and the Dominos with George Harrison.”^[32] The sessions led to the formation of Derek and the Dominos,^[33][34] whose four members – Clapton, Whitlock, Carl Radle and Jim Gordon – all played on the track.^[35]

Kicked off by what author Elliot Huntley terms Clapton’s “firecracking” lead guitar,^[27] and propelled by Gordon’s drumming and Radle’s urgent bass, the released version of “Art of Dying” is in the hard rock style.^[16] Jim Price‘s horn arrangement provided a countermelody behind the various A minor voicings in the song’s instrumental passages^[36] through to its “galloping” ending.^[21] Testifying to the ferocity of the performance, Phil Collins later recalled that his hands were so badly blistered during the run-throughs of the song, he was unable to play his congas with any force once they came to actually record it, hence the apparent absence of congas in the final mix.^[37] Another percussion part – maracas – does feature prominently, and may have been played by Mal Evans, Starr, members of Badfinger or Maurice Gibb, all of whom attended the session also, according to Collins.^[37]

Release and reception[edit]

Apple Records released All Things Must Pass in November 1970,^[38] with “Art of Dying” sequenced as the second track on side four, in the triple album’s original, LP format.^[39] While describing the acclaim afforded the album on release, author Robert Rodriguez includes the song as an illustration of how Harrison’s talent had been “hidden in plain sight” behind Lennon and Paul McCartney during the Beatles’ career.^[40] Rodriguez writes: “That the Quiet Beatle was capable of such range – from the joyful “What Is Life” to the meditative “Isn’t It a Pity” to the steamrolling “Art of Dying” to the playful “I Dig Love” – was revelatory.”^[40]

In his review for Rolling Stone magazine, Ben Gerson similarly wrote of the wide range of styles found on All Things Must Pass and recognised “Art of Dying” as “a song of reincarnation” with a melody supposedly “borrowed” from the Rolling Stones‘ “Paint It, Black“.^[41] Village Voice contributor Nicholas Schaffner and others have described it as an “essay” on the subject of reincarnation.^[16][42] Writing in 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, Andrew Gilbert highlights “Art of Dying” as an example of the “finely crafted, spiritually charged songs” that ensure that All Things Must Pass “only sounds better with time”.^[43] While reviewing the 30th anniversary edition of the album, James Hunter enthused in Rolling Stone: “Imagine a rock orchestra recorded with sensitivity and teeth and faraway mikes: bluesy and intricate on Harrison and Dylan‘s ‘I’d Have You Anytime,’ fizzy on ‘Apple Scruffs,’ grooving on ‘Let It Down,’ and spookily proto-disco on ‘Art of Dying.'”^[1]

Among Harrison’s biographers, Elliot Huntley describes the song as “certainly the most dramatic” track on the album and “one of the most scintillating rock songs in the Harrison canon”.^[27] Ian Inglis writes that “Art of Dying” displays “all the features” of Harrison’s “post-Beatles confidence” and notes the Middle Eastern “musical antecedents” despite the obvious Hindu concepts within the lyrics.^[44] In his book While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Simon Leng views “Art of Dying” as picking up “where ‘Tomorrow Never Knows‘ and ‘Within You Without You’ paused”, and adds: “If ever a song challenged the one-eyed nature of the rock world, this is it. Nothing could be further from superficial pop culture.”^[16]

Other versions[edit]

Harrison never performed “Art of Dying” live,^[45] although he included it on his proposed setlist for the Concert for Bangladesh in 1971.^[46] It was rehearsed for the two shows at Madison Square Garden, judging by Jim Horn‘s horn chart for the song, reproduced at the end of I, Me, Mine.^[47] The acoustic demo of “Art of Dying” from May 1970 has been available unofficially since the 1990s, on bootlegs such as Beware of ABKCO!^[48][49]

Jazz guitarist Joel Harrison covered “Art of Dying” for his album Harrison on Harrison: Jazz Explanations of George Harrison,^[50] released in October 2005.^[51] Three years later, Suburban Skies recorded the song for their Harrison tribute album George.^[52]

Personnel[edit]

The musicians who played on “Art of Dying” are believed to be as follows:^[36]

• George Harrison – vocals, electric guitars, backing vocals
• Eric Clapton – electric guitar
• Gary Wright – electric piano
• Billy Preston – organ
• Bobby Whitlock – tubular bells^{[53][nb 1]}
• Carl Radle – bass
• Jim Gordon – drums
• Jim Price – trumpets, horn arrangement
• Bobby Keys – saxophone
• Phil Collins – congas
• uncredited – maracas

Notes[edit]

1. Jump up^ Madinger and Easter write that the various in-progress mixes of “Art of Dying” reveal the presence of tubular bells on the recording but make no mention of a piano part,^[20] for which Leng credits Whitlock as playing.^[36] In his autobiography, Whitlock states that his contribution was the tubular bells, which he played with a leather hammer.^[53]

Sources[edit]

• Dale C. Allison Jr., The Love There That’s Sleeping: The Art and Spirituality of George Harrison, Continuum (New York, NY, 2006; ISBN 978-0-8264-1917-0).
• Keith Badman, The Beatles Diary Volume 2: After the Break-Up 1970–2001, Omnibus Press (London, 2001; ISBN 0-7119-8307-0).
• The Beatles, Anthology, Chronicle Books (San Francisco, CA, 2000; ISBN 0-8118-2684-8).
• Harry Castleman & Walter J. Podrazik, All Together Now: The First Complete Beatles Discography 1961–1975, Ballantine Books (New York, NY, 1976; ISBN 0-345-25680-8).
• Alan Clayson, George Harrison, Sanctuary (London, 2003; ISBN 1-86074-489-3).
• Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money: The Beatles After the Breakup, It Books (New York, NY, 2011; ISBN 978-0-06-177418-8).
• The Editors of Rolling Stone, Harrison, Rolling Stone Press/Simon & Schuster (New York, NY, 2002; ISBN 0-7432-3581-9).
• George Harrison, I Me Mine, Chronicle Books (San Francisco, CA, 2002; ISBN 0-8118-3793-9).
• Olivia Harrison, George Harrison: Living in the Material World, Abrams (New York, NY, 2011; ISBN 978-1-4197-0220-4).
• Elliot J. Huntley, Mystical One: George Harrison – After the Break-up of the Beatles, Guernica Editions (Toronto, ON, 2006; ISBN 1-55071-197-0).
• Ian Inglis, The Words and Music of George Harrison, Praeger (Santa Barbara, CA, 2010; ISBN 978-0-313-37532-3).
• Simon Leng, While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Music of George Harrison, Hal Leonard (Milwaukee, WI, 2006; ISBN 1-4234-0609-5).
• Cynthia Lennon, John, Hodder & Stoughton (London, 2006; ISBN 0-340-89512-8).
• Ian MacDonald, Revolution in the Head: The Beatles’ Records and the Sixties, Pimlico (London, 1998; ISBN 0-7126-6697-4).
• Chip Madinger & Mark Easter, Eight Arms to Hold You: The Solo Beatles Compendium, 44.1 Productions (Chesterfield, MO, 2000; ISBN 0-615-11724-4).
• Chris O’Dell (with Katherine Ketcham), Miss O’Dell: My Hard Days and Long Nights with The Beatles, The Stones, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, and the Women They Loved, Touchstone (New York, NY, 2009; ISBN 978-1-4165-9093-4).
• Robert Rodriguez, Fab Four FAQ 2.0: The Beatles’ Solo Years, 1970–1980, Backbeat Books (Milwaukee, WI, 2010; ISBN 978-1-4165-9093-4).
• Nicholas Schaffner, The Beatles Forever, McGraw-Hill (New York, NY, 1978; ISBN 0-07-055087-5).
• Bruce Spizer, The Beatles Solo on Apple Records, 498 Productions (New Orleans, LA, 2005; ISBN 0-9662649-5-9).
• Gary Tillery, Working Class Mystic: A Spiritual Biography of George Harrison, Quest Books (Wheaton, IL, 2011; ISBN 978-0-8356-0900-5).
• Bobby Whitlock (with Marc Roberty), Bobby Whitlock: A Rock ‘n’ Roll Autobiography, McFarland (Jefferson, NC, 2010; ISBN 978-0-7864-6190-5).

External links[edit]

• Lyrics of this song at MetroLyrics

Categories:

• 1970 songs
• George Harrison songs
• Songs written by George Harrison
• Song recordings produced by George Harrison
• Song recordings produced by Phil Spector
• Music published by Harrisongs

With God On Their SideHigher Powers Guide A New Generation

If there has been a predominant figure in pop culture so far this year, it might just be Jesus Christ. The most obvious example is The Passion Of The Christ, but while the film has been a focal point of debate over religion’s current influence in mainstream Western society, Mel Gibson is only the most familiar of many other artists whose individual visions are making a new generation aware of Christianity, in all its mystery and inherent complexity. This year, God TV has had its hits (Joan of Arcadia) and misses (Wonderfalls); Madonna is devoting time on her current tour to preaching about Kabbalah; and recent Johnny Cash reissues are acknowledging the Man In Black’s devotion to the gospels. The Polyphonic Spree conduct hippie-tinged sermons like a pot-addled Mormon Tabernacle Choir, while the Hidden Cameras’ gay folk music invites new devotees to sing along, part of an increasingly important generation of believers – like Robert Randolf, Danielson and Royal City – who are pushing faith to the fore.

For most fans, the separation of Church and Rock is just as, let’s say, sacred as the separation of Church and State. After all, what was originally conceived as “the Devil’s music” should remain so, right? But rock’n’roll has never shied away from the spiritual realm, dating back to when Elvis Presley calmed fears of his evil powers with a solemn rendition of “Peace In The Valley,” accompanied by the Blackwood Brothers gospel quartet as part of his first Ed Sullivan Show appearance.

Today, matters of faith are increasingly prevalent, not only in Christian-based music’s own self-sufficient industry, but in the voices of young artists who are drawing upon the gospel tradition, for both musical inspiration and personal enlightenment.

The Gospel Impulse
Perhaps the biggest question raised by the overwhelming response to The Passion is, why now? America in particular has long been a predominantly evangelical Christian nation – latest surveys show that 43 percent of its citizens consider themselves “born again” – to the point where the Republican Party, with its “born again” president George W. Bush, has concluded that it need only appeal to this demographic in order to remain in power.

One thing that is certain, the use of religious imagery today in popular music has grown much more complicated in comparison to its earliest appearances in song. As Craig Werner writes in his thorough study, A Change Is Gonna Come: Music, Race & The Soul Of America, “Without question the spiritual explorations of the younger generation shocked some of their elders. But many appreciated the impulse behind the explorations; and almost everyone understood that almost any spiritual vision was preferable to the nihilism that threatened to destroy so many communities.”

Werner’s list of crucial gospel-informed hits includes Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song,” Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground,” and many others that have undeniably had an impact far beyond other songs of their respective eras. The suggestion Werner makes is that artists who successfully utilise the “gospel impulse,” do so out of a desire to build community, rather than out of pure self-expression.

He writes, “At its best, the gospel impulse helps people experience themselves in relation to rather than on their own. Gospel makes the feeling of human separateness, which is what the blues are all about, bearable. It’s why DJs and the dancers they shape into momentary communities are telling the truth when they describe dance as a religious experience.”

Rock Of Ages
The notion of using music as a vehicle to connect with a larger community, or higher power, directly reflects the fact that most early stars of blues, country and rock’n’roll came from small, rural areas where the church was a social pillar. For many, it was simply a natural progression to interpret music learned in church in their own personal ways.

As one of his final wishes, Johnny Cash recorded My Mother’s Hymn Book, a collection of songs he had known since his childhood. There could be no better final statement from a man who balanced sin and salvation, and who was unparalleled at communicating the realities of each. While it is easy to sentimentalise Cash’s gospel work as an outgrowth of his personal struggles over the years, the fact is that at when he first sang of shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die, he was also asking, ‘Were you there when they crucified my Lord?’ In fact, Cash intended his first album for Columbia Records, following his move from Sun, to be a gospel album, something the label wouldn’t approve until there were a few hits under his belt.

As Sylvie Simmons writes in the liner note to Hymn Book, “If [Cash’s mother] Carrie had not taught him these hymn book songs, encouraged him to sing them and told him that his talent was a ‘gift from God’ and he should not toss it away, he would likely not be here today.”

While Cash never made what might have been a natural transition into a full-fledged preacher, history suggests that most artists who come from a strong religious upbringing invariably introduce those beliefs into their music.

Al Green is a prime example. Originally a deep soul belter, Green undertook a personal battle between the sacred and profane in the early ’70s, just as his popularity was amplifying the isolation he had always felt, and subsequently eased with drugs and sex. It was in a hotel room at Disneyland in 1973 that Green found the Lord. “I had producers, promoters, record companies, booking agents, all these people saying, ‘Al is doing what? Religion? Eighteen million dollars invested in this boy and he’s got religion? We’ve got a career going here, we need to sell some records,” he recently told Mojo’s Andrea Lisle. “Everyone around me was saying, ‘We don’t need God right now – tell him to come back later.’ But I had to reconcile what was going on with me, because this was the only thing that was gonna save me.”

Unlike Little Richard’s flirtation with the ministry in the late ’50s, which essentially stalled his career at its height, Green wholly embraced his calling, and deftly incorporated religion into such landmark recordings as 1977’s The Belle Album. At the same time, Green preached every Sunday at his own church in Memphis, still today a guaranteed cure for Saturday night excesses. Yet, after establishing himself as undoubtedly the most popular gospel artist in America, Reverend Al’s excellent new album, I Can’t Stop, returns to the sultry themes and grooves that first brought him fame. For Green, the gap between physical love and spiritual love was bridged long ago. “Even the Pope is a human being,” he says. “And that is what this album is about. When people come home from the church house and start dealing with the children, their job, the mortgage and the insurance, they’re gonna deal with this album. It’s about life.”

From The Altar To The Stage
While mainstream rock fans have often turned to Green’s work for an accessible gospel fix, more recently they have been introduced to the music through several unlikely sources. One of these is the sacred steel movement, first “discovered” by blues enthusiast Chris Strachwitz of Arhoolie Records in the early 1990s. Until then, sacred steel was an obscure fixture of black Baptist church services, mostly in Florida, where the choir was accompanied not by an organ, but by pedal steel guitarists. As unlikely as that seems, players like Sonny Treadway, Aubrey Ghent, and the Campbell Brothers, managed to create both joyful and heart-wrenching sounds that perfectly complemented the hymns. With its popularity grown following such acclaimed releases as None But The Righteous and The Word (featuring John Medeski of Medeski, Martin & Wood), sacred steel had its first mainstream crossover success last year with Robert Randolph, the young phenom whose urban chic has brought him those all-important young white followers.

Randolph, who grew up near Newark, New Jersey, admits that staying close to his churchgoing relatives saved him from a life of drugs and crime, and ultimately got him playing steel guitar. A family connection to sacred steel legend Ted Beard firmly set him on his path at the age of 17. “I said to Ted, ‘I want to play like you,’ but he taught me that you can never be like someone else, and if you keep that in mind and stay humble, then nobody will be able to do what you’re doing. A couple of months after that, I was back home playing steel guitar at our church services.” Since then, Randolph’s major label debut, Unclassified, and his band’s incendiary live shows have drawn comparisons to guitar heroes like Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan. But at its core, Randolph’s music is pure gospel, and judging by his statements, will remain so.

Although Randolph and others have helped to modernise the established tenets of gospel music, the enduring appeal of what have come to be known among collectors as “true vine” recordings from the 1920s and ’30s is undiminished. Proof is in the brisk sales of last year’s six-disc set Goodbye Babylon, a labour of love for Atlanta music archivist Lance Ledbetter, who released it on his own Dust-To-Digital label. Although a substantial purchase for even the most ardent fan – the set comes with the requisite book in a wood box lined with freshly picked cotton – it rivals Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music in both quality and historical significance.

Ledbetter says his motivation was simply to fill a void in documenting important early gospel artists like Thomas A. Dorsey and Sister Rosetta Tharpe. In doing so, he ingeniously placed them alongside little-known gospel sides from their better-known peers like Blind Lemon Jefferson and the Monroe Brothers, along with an entire disc of sermons. “I was doing a radio show of old-timey music at Georgia State University and I just noticed a void in gospel music reissues,” he explained in an online chat. “That led me to write a letter to a collector about whom I’d read on the internet [Joe Bussard]. He lived in Maryland and owned over 25,000 78 rpm records. Over time we developed a nice relationship, and for the next year-and-a-half I listened to all of his religious records. He would make me cassettes of the songs for $.50 a track and I’d get them and listen to them every night on headphones and would have the hair on the back of my neck raised. It was an incredible time!”

The force of this old time religion can be heard elsewhere, from the White Stripes’ now trademark renditions of Son House’s “John The Revelator,” to former 16 Horsepower front-man David Eugene Edwards’ latest haunting project, Woven Hand. But for anyone familiar with roots music of the past 20 years, the revival of that spirit can be credited to only one man: T-Bone Burnett.

The High Priest
“I’ve made it a policy not to talk about Bob Dylan,” T-Bone Burnett has repeatedly said. “But I will say this, his career has been about Bob Dylan’s search for God.” Burnett, a devout born-again Christian from Texas, first made his name after Dylan enlisted him in 1975 for the Rolling Thunder Revue. Less than three years later, Dylan himself was taking Bible study classes and damning non-believers both in his songs and on-stage harangues.

While Burnett’s influence on Dylan’s conversion was probably minimal, his influence on reconnecting America with its gospel music tradition has been immeasurable. Although he never found his footing as a solo artist, his work as a producer has invariably put them in touch with the rich heritage of American song that Burnett seems to be able to summon at will. His greatest recent accomplishment has been as the architect of the O Brother Where Art Thou? phenomenon. The multi-million selling soundtrack proved far more lasting than its film, spawning a further documentary of live performances (Down From The Mountain), a tour, and unprecedented new followings for many of its artists.

Audiences have been treated to many remarkable moments, such as Ralph Stanley singing the gospel standard “O Death” at the 2002 Grammy Awards, a night when O Brother swept every category it was in. When speaking to No Depression, Burnett admitted that O Brother’s success could at least partly be credited to America’s state of mind following 9/11, a time when “people wanted to connect to who we are. Elvis [Costello] said that ‘O Death’ was the truest response to the bombing that had come from the arts. That’s true, even though it was actually done before 9/11. It was an unconscious thing.”

In fact, what makes Burnett’s work so special is that the spirituality he injects most often is unconscious, making it an inclusive listening experience in a pure gospel sense. When asked by Radix Magazine in the early ’90s about changes in the cultural perception of Christianity that resulted from Dylan’s conversion, Burnett was eerily prophetic in how the hardliners were beginning to take over America. “It was exciting for a while to see all this stuff going on, but a lot of things never led anywhere. It’s funny to see how some of the people who were part of that have now turned into incredibly right-wing dupes. They’re falling right into line with nationalist-type power needs. What I believe now is that maybe they were fearful at the time. Maybe what they were about at the time was all fear. There’s a tremendous amount of fear in the evangelical church.”

Of course, that fear has only been heightened by current world events, but the hope provided by artists like Burnett and others in tune with gospel messages will always be the antidote. They are present in every genre of music, whether the artists are conscious of it or not.

The New Disciples
“I don’t plan things out,” Daniel Smith says. “I try to be obedient to what the Lord is showing me and telling me to write and play. It’s like putting a puzzle together in the dark and trying to stay out of the way as much as possible. I have very little idea of what I am doing.”

When Smith first appeared with his siblings in 1994 as the Danielson Famile, reactions were a mix of awe at the odd-yet-uplifting music they made, and confusion over what precisely their intention was in bringing a strong Christian-based philosophy to indie rock. Speaking with the conviction of a true preacher, Smith says he found God a year prior to the band’s first album, A Prayer For Every Hour, as he finished his final year of art college. The band has since gone on to release five more uniquely rough-edged albums and spawn many offshoots, released through Smith’s label Sounds Familyre. His latest outing is as Br. Danielson, a solo album entitled Brother Is To Son, which ventures into confessional singer-songwriter territory. It is some of Smith’s most heartfelt work to date, with his faith being the cornerstone in exploring other subjects, like his job as a carpenter.

When asked to describe his music, Smith states with typical aplomb, “Rock’n’roll came out of the invisible Church, so musically and spiritually I feel connected to those roots. My relationship with Christ in the details of the everyday is my source and my inspiration. I have no faith in politics or pop culture, they all fade away over and over again. I do think many people everywhere are starving for something deeper than themselves.”

What makes Smith unusual among spiritually-informed artists is that he actually professes no allegiance to any organised religion. He says, “I think the Bible portrays Jesus perfectly. The Lord created everything and uses whatever He wants for whatever He wants.”

Although Smith, and peers like Sufjan Stevens and Pedro The Lion, clearly have no problems espousing their religious conviction with their fans, the challenge of other young, spiritually-informed artists to avoid their work being branded with a “Christian” tag is certainly unfortunate considering how the religion has always been integral to the blues and folk tradition.

One tactic has been to boldly delve into that rich musical heritage and see what comes of it. That’s been the basic formula for success so far for New York’s Ollabelle, whose self-titled debut is a document of their euphoric initial foray into traditional gospel. The six-piece collective, which includes vocalist Amy Helm, daughter of the Band’s Levon Helm, has appropriated a genre they were not born into, but like the Band’s elemental mishmash, Ollabelle’s approach to gospel standards like “Soul Of A Man,” and “Jesus On The Mainline” adds a refreshing musical sophistication to the inherent power of the songs themselves.

Keyboardist Glenn Patscha (a New York resident originally from Winnipeg) says the band formed in late 2001 out of a weekly jam session at an East Village bar. “We did a couple of gospel tunes one night, and the owner of the bar asked us to do a full gospel night every Sunday,” he explains. “People really caught on to it, because it just felt so honest and good, and out of that we started getting this real communal feeling playing together. You can’t help but feel that way when you play this music, and I think part of the fun was that we all sort of discovered that feeling for the first time when we played these songs.”

Although an established musician prior to forming Ollabelle, Patscha says that no one expected the band to catch on this quickly; they are now part of T-Bone Burnett’s DMZ Records roster and are touring with legends like Ralph Stanley. “The most amazing part of what we’ve done has been that this music has afforded us so many opportunities to become better musicians, and better people,” he says. “We’re all on our own spiritual paths from these different places we’ve come from, but we’ve found common ground in this music. I think that’s the appeal of it, that it doesn’t matter what your beliefs are. I think anybody can listen to these songs and be inspired.”

Royal City’s collective approach has likewise drawn comparisons to the Band, but for main songwriter Aaron Riches, his beliefs have always manifested themselves in much more complex ways than traditional gospel songs normally offer. In fact, talking about religion with the Guelph, ON native (currently in Virginia completing his PhD in theology) is both an intimidating and eye-opening experience. The band has just released its third album, Little Heart’s Ease, and while the lyrics once again have a ring of Old Testament starkness that would make Leonard Cohen proud, Riches says that most people miss the point when discussing his spiritual influences.

“Initially, my interest stemmed from English literature, which contains all the stories and metaphors our society is based on,” he says. “And if you go to any university English department and ask what the greatest work in the English language is, most people will say the King James Bible. What made it exciting to me was learning that part of the motivation in translating it into English was to try to create a common language for the first time, and that this language was imbued with a spirit beyond what the words themselves represented. These were some of the greatest poets who ever lived.”

Rather than taking any specific religious stance in his music, as a student of the folk tradition Riches understands its origins in the mysteries of the natural world. However, he admits that this remains a Judeo-Christian tradition simply because of the language used to articulate it. “I just keep going back in time,” he says. “I guess what started with a love of that old, weird American folk music has led me to explore more of where that kind of mystical language came from. So, on this new album there’s probably less of a gospel influence as opposed to maybe the writings of St. Augustine, but to me that’s still a continuation.”

Of course, not everyone is able to grasp such an approach, at least right away. Word had it that Royal City’s British label, Rough Trade, was considering marketing the band specifically to a Christian audience. Riches’ response to that prospect is unexpectedly terse: “No, we’re not a Christian band.”

Still Bigger Than Jesus?
No matter what trends prevail, music, like all art, will always retain a semblance of spirituality, since most accept that the creation of art is a spiritual experience. Of course, this experience is not limited to Christians. The influence of Islam, Rastafarianism, Buddhism, Krishna, Kabbalah – not to mention consciousness-expanding drugs – are separate stories unto themselves. But it seems that music remains one of the few realms where all their shared principles of peace, love, and understanding can be expressed (on the whole) in a non-judgmental way.

In his 1988 book Hungry For Heaven, British music journalist Steve Turner came to that conclusion, stating at the time of its revised edition in 1995, “I’m pretty sure that religious issues will always be fairly prominent in music. It amazes me that secular journalists don’t seem to see how much of rock, and how many of the leading musicians, have had this dalliance with religion. It’s a perpetual issue.”

But whatever beliefs an artist is espousing, they will undoubtedly always go hand-in-hand with a belief that music itself can be considered a spiritually binding force. As Craig Werner quoted Erykah Badu in A Change Is Gonna Come, “I think the Creator loves that we understand to get a foundation and then to build from there. I don’t stifle my creativity or my will to learn. My religion, if I have one, is probably the arts.”

God Was Their Co-Pilot
Rock’s Essential Religious Recordings

Elvis Presley – Peace In The Valley (RCA, 2000)
This three-disc set is intended to be the last word on the King’s treasured gospel side. With 87 tracks, there’s no denying that this was a major aspect of his art, one that made it acceptable for other rockers to venture into the sacred. Songs range from favourites like “His Hand In Mine” to the previously unreleased “Why Me Lord?”

The Electric Prunes – Mass In F Minor (Reprise, 1968)
More a construct of uber-hip producer/arranger David Axelrod, this acid rock landmark remains mind-boggling in both its audacity and power. Some will recognise “Kyrie Eleison” from the Easy Rider soundtrack, while others will note the album’s influence on Spinal Tap’s “Rock ‘N Roll Creation.”

Van Morrison – Astral Weeks (Warner Bros., 1968)
While not a religious album per se, Morrison’s unbridled performance certainly sees him at times approaching a state of nirvana few others glimpsed before or since. As his first proper solo album it set the standard for the spiritual journey he would undertake for the rest of his career, although he never recaptured the magic of this mystical document.

George Harrison – All Things Must Pass (Apple, 1970)
As the “spiritual” Beatle, Harrison’s beliefs brought the world to India, but on this solo debut, he manages to successfully weave them into a powerful wide-screen rock sound, with the help of Phil Spector and Eric Clapton. Despite its subject matter, “My Sweet Lord” was an undeniable hit, while the title track and “Art Of Dying” reveal a wisdom far beyond his years.

Bob Dylan – Slow Train Coming (Columbia, 1979)
At the time a shocking move for the born-again Jewish kid, Slow Train Coming remains one of his most well-crafted (and well-produced) albums. Twenty-five years on, the sheer beauty of “I Believe In You” and pure gospel zeal of “Gotta Serve Somebody” is undiminished. Also see 1980’s Saved and 1981’s Shot Of Love.

Sam Phillips – Zero Zero Zero (Virgin, 1999)
The wife of T-Bone Burnett, Phillips started in the Christian music industry, but eventually crossed over as her richly diverse songs began dealing with more earthly matters. This compilation of her personal favourites is a good introduction to her unique talent, and features contributions from Elvis Costello, Peter Buck, Van Dyke Parks and others.

Featured artist is Joel Sheesley

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Featured Artist: Joel Sheesley

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