Music For Holy Week, Easter Day

Jesus said, “Mary.” John 20:16

It all leads to this: restoration, healing, innauguration of a new kingdom. Creation reordered, reality redefined, the blankness of the grave shaken to its core. An almighty Yes. 

Again, a few songs instead of one. Again, all on the same post.

Radiohead have an unfair reputation as a miserable band; their music may often be bleak or difficult but live they express a deep joy. As I once remember the singer, Thom Yorke, articualting, joy is shared truth and this is what people experience at their concerts. For all that, they are also astonishing musicians and performers. This strange track is one for the live experience, or if not then greeting the sunrise in the country on a cool, crisp morning; holding coffee on the sofa in the silence of mid-morning; late-night after the wedding reception.


Today transfigures pain. It does justice to it, trumps it, redefines it. Pain is not removed by Easter Day. It is made holy, and is also reshaped into something that is no longer an ending. There’s a deeper, bigger truth than suffering and pain. Urban legend has it than in the days after 9/11, the working man’s prophet, America’s greatest living theologian Bruce Springsteen, was walking in New York. A man passed him by and told him “We need you now, Bruce”. If that’s true or not has long since become irrelevant. What he wrote as he reflected on those awful events was an intoxicating, Easter-soaked transfiguring of pain, a narrative of 9/11 written from the viewpoint of a fireman killed in the rescue in the Twin Towers.


I’ve left the most obvious to last. I tried to avoid U2, partly because some people seem to think I listen to nothing but (most definitely true); and because they are such a divisive band for Christians and non-Christians alike. But after the last 6-7 months I’ve just experienced, this little track seemed a good Easter Day summary to go out on. That, and if you’re sitting in a chocolate-induced coma right now, you can have bags of fun trying to name all the artists shown in this video.


Also in this series: 


Palm Sunday





Good Friday

Holy Saturday

U2 – No Lines, No Limits

(This is the first of the  ‘other stuff’. Occasionally I’ll branch out from films to look at something else that has got my attention. If it’s not your interest, stick with me. Back to films soon).

Let’s be clear, this is only a first impression. I’ll know more when I’ve lived with this – I think you only really grasp an album when you’ve lived with it, breathed it, let it soundtrack the stuff of life. Here, however, are a few impressions.

I come at this as an unabashed fan, but not one who doesn’t occasionally feel embarrassed by the band. All I can say, though, is that they keep resurfacing in my life. U2’s music has journeyed with me through most of the major turning points of my life. My first major memory is my sister buying Unforgettable Fire on vinyl and playing it to death. I liked them then, loved Joshua Tree but fell head over heels with Achtung Baby. That just grew and grew. It fascinated me all the more, as a Christian at university, developing my own faith, while they discovered Ecclesiastes. It always confused me why some Christians felt so let down by this masterpiece, when all I thought is that they had really broken through to something special. Through this, 4 concerts (5 if you include the BBC balcony in London) – at least one of them being one of the finest pieces of performance art you’re likely to see (Zoo TV), the other being an evening of profound depth (Elevation tour in London, as Bono’s father was dying and I experienced the beginnings of what I now know to be depression and panic attacks).

So to No Line On The Horizon. One word? Not enough, but I’ll stick with ‘spacious’. Their music was always best heard under an open sky with 60,000 others, but as Bono has said they needed to record this album remembering that most would listen to on earphones as they walked. So it was. On the first two listens, I was intrigued. On the ipod, something else happened. Reviewers had said ‘Moment of Surrender’ was a standout, one of their greatest, but until then I didn’t really get it.  In the space between my head? Extraordinary. Unlike anything they’ve done before, but also strangely reminiscent. Subtle, deep and beautiful. Quite stunning, and not a little strange that one song (and in time the whole album) makes that whole private, intimate space so open. I love ‘Breathe’ too, a stream of consciousness, feverish rambling, as a (possibly) holy man wonders through an urban nightmare straight out of CNN’s breaking-news. The closing ‘Cedars Of Lebanon’ is wondrous, a thing of sleepy, dirty, beauty, quite the opposite of what you expect of a U2 song with that title.

The whole album feels for now like Unforgettable Fire’s dark, surreal cousin. It probably will turn out to be one of their finest, but really it’s too soon for that sort of judgement. It is, though, a work of genuine depth and searching. I’m struck by so many lines, but there’s little point in listing them now. I need to live with this, grasp it and appropriate it – upcoming holiday is well-timed.

For now, it is enough to be sure of simply this: there is good sense in Bono’s insistence that they won’t go anywhere soon.