MUS:A response to Music in general  by Justin Long

   December 20, 1988

   The topic of rock music is quite interesting. I never really got
into the "ban & burn" ideas about rock music. Of course, some of it
definitely isn't the greatest! I'd rather listen to trucks colliding
with each other in the street than the bashing beat of Metallica, for
instance--but lyrical filth can be found in other, softer materials.
There's Lennon's "Imagine," for example--a true testimony to Communism.
Even some of Barry Manilow's crooning stuff, too, is filled with
various rather non-Christian lyrics! We listen to rock, not because we
are made to, not because there is nothing else to listen to, but as a
matter of personal preference. The question is not WHY, but SHOULD WE,
and TO WHAT. (You knew it was going to come to this sooner or later,
eh?) At the risk of offending many, I -do- listen to some rock, mostly
Christian, some (*gasp!*) secular. For instance, I have this undying
habit for listening to Chicago. I know, some of their songs are
terrible--but "Inspiration" off Chicago 17 is perhaps one of the
best-composed love songs of the 1980s. There's only one line in it: "I
need you here with me/from tonight until the end of the time" which
could be used to dedicate it in an immoral manner (but anyone who uses
this particular song in that particular way is already immoral anyhow!)

   Stay the Night, of course, is a different matter, and my CD player's
program for Chicago 17 excludes that song. George Michael's number one
smash, "I Want Your--" (well, you know the rest), is far from subtle.
There are others that go into even more detail than these. Some,
however, are the very image of subtlety.

   Take, for instance, Boston's "Hollyann," off the Third Stage album.
It is a quite relaxing song. It's smooth, mellow, easy. There aren't
any synthesizers--just a nice, strumming guitar. It calls into the
night for peace. It comes on the coatstrings of "Can't you say you
believe in me, " which ends with the words, "I love you." Oh, yes, the
stage is set rather well. But the lyrics run: "The nights you came to
me/a blue jean lady so eager to be free." It echoes the sixties, yet
plunges into the New Age of the 1980s with, "We could live just to turn
the world into our fantasy/ And we could give--Aquarius was really
meant to be." It is a song for peace ("We left the world behind; a
million hands gave the sign--we held the line, could you believe it?
Hollyann---"), and yet it is deceptively NOT of the Prince of Peace!

   "Whatsoever is good, lovely, ..." The Bible spells out its own
criteria. Some Christian music fails to live up to these expectations,
but several artists excel at combining Christian abilities with
soul-rattling music. For instance, a little known group called
Crumbacher rolled out these words on their third album, Thunder Beach:

   Nothing ever changes in your own backyard-- So you want to get out
while you can, You claim your folks don't understand! But if you want
to make a difference, You'd better start with some backyard changes.

   The tune is hard-hitting, both to the ears and to the soul. I listen
to it a lot, and it reminds me often that I should practice what I
preach.

   Amy Grant attacked the breakings of friendships with another
hard-hitting song:

   Long time since I've seen your smile, but when I close my eyes-- --I
remember. You were no more than a child, but then so was I-- --young
and tender! Time carries on; I guess it always will: deep inside my
heart-- --time stands still--

   Snow falls, phone calls, broken hearts Clear summer days, warm and
lazy Long walks, long talks after dark, We vowed we'd never forget: Now
it's hazy. Time takes it's toll; time alters our view It would be nice
to spend some time with you. Stay for Awhile

   It's good to see your smile, and I love your company Stay for Awhile

   And remember the days gone by--for a moment it can seem Just the way
it used to be. (Stay For Awhile, The Collection)

   There are others, of course, from the peer-pressure slamming chords
of Petra's Beat the System ("You can be more than a conqueror/You will
never face defeat/You can dare to win by losing all/You can face the
heat, and dare to beat the system") to the soft, strumming threads of
David Meece's classic, We Are The Reason ("We are the reason that He
gave His life/We are the reason he suffered and died/To a world that
was lost he gave all he could give/to show us a reason to live").
There's Greg Volz's Back Burner ("Nothing has changed on the back
burner/not much happening here/Sometimes I think you must be a slow
learner/to wake up year after year/with not much to say, not much to
do/and nothing to show that you're calling is true/one day it's gonna
be through/this backburner!"). Michael W. Smith has over twenty songs
I'd recommend for any particular instance, from "Old Enough To Know"
for the flirtatious to "Lamu" for those in their own world; from
"Rocketown" for the evangelistic to "I know" for those who feel the
sting of peer pressure. My personal favorite is "Other side" off the
new album, I-2-Eye, whose lyrics run:

   I'm not how I used to be when we hung around Back when it was just
you and me, tearing up this town We used to live our lives running from
change Now we don't see I-2-Eye: I am not the same. And you... you
wonder where I've gone Well, I've found where I belong I'm on the other
side.

   True--I used to walk your shore But I'm not there any more! I'm on
the other side.

   Years fade like the setting sun, turning us loose. They give us many
ways to live, and many roads to choose. I ran into saving grace while
heading for nowhere. Love showed me another place and brought me there.
Why it is so hard for you to see? All the changes made in me Here on
the other side

   Oh, I could help you understand, And you could join me where I am I
am on the other side.

   Oh, there are many songs, but they all seem to take me back to
another paradox: Now, I like takin' off, but I don't like burning out--
Every time you turn it on, makes me want to shout. We keep gettin'
hotter, moving way too fast; If we don't slow this fire down, we're not
going to last. Cool the engines--red line's gettin' near. Cool the
engines--better take it out of gear. Take me for a ride, take me all
the way, Take me where I've never been, yet some place I can stay.
Don't get yourself too hot, and don't get yourself too high-- If we
don't take it easy now, we can kiss it all goodbye.

   Some Christian band? No... Back to Boston, of course. So we can see
that songs, much like people, can individually be good of their own
accord. My question is a little more intense: when should we listen to
a group, and when not? On the basis of a song, or of all songs? Should
I turn off Whitney Houston's "What Child Is This" because I don't like
the moral implications of "Saving all my love for you, " which speaks
of an adulterous affair as something great?

   Interesting questions--questions I think must be solved inside the
person's relationship with God. Songs that glorify things that God
calls base, the sins that separate us from Him--these should not be
listened to, no matter how beautiful the beat or how catchy the lyrics.
But I can't find it in myself to turn off David Foster's "St. Elmo's
Fire (For Just A Moment)" because he co-wrote "Stay the Night" with
Peter Cetera.

   Well: It's up to you to decide. And if, on this issue, we don't see
eye-to-eye, at least we do see eye-to-eye on the question of salvation.
And I don't think rock music short of satanistic worship will keep
anyone out of heaven.
