Music Minute: The Rise of College Radio

I missed a deadline for this column yesterday, y'all, and I'm sorry. :)

What we've been doing in this column for the past few months is tracing the roots of pop music through all kinds of channels—soul, R&B, black gospel, early rock n' roll, Elvis, Bob Dylan. Music from the late 1960s and early 1970s was generally overproduced and overly commercial. And at the end of the 1970s, the music industry changed. Grungy, messy, angry, and shocking, punk music was the exact opposite of sugary, overdone 70s pop.

Punk was very popular but never really took off in a mainstream way. New bands always kind put their own take on what's happening in music around them, and in the early 1980s, college radio was born.

College radio was independent (read: not major-label) music played primarily on college radio stations. It was music that was purposely out of the mainstream and owes a debt to punk without really sounding like it, and was made up of all kinds of cult and mainstream acts. (I once had an album by a band called Dread Zeppelin, which did only reggae covers of Led Zeppelin songs and wore Elvis costumes. Yes, I was weird.) This kind of music was spread around by word of mouth, small independent music clubs, mix tapes, and (of course) college radio stations. Most people agree that at the very least, it's guitar music, and alternative music often has some kind of message.

Today, we'd call college radio "alternative" music. The White Stripes, The Killers, Switchfoot, MXPX, Thousand Foot Krutch, Relient K, Skillet and countless other mainstream and Christian bands have college radio to thank for their success. And the Britpop, ska, power pop, and grunge sounds from the 90s all have their roots in college radio.

The two biggest bands you'd have heard of from the 80s college radio scene are The Cure and R.E.M. The Cure was an English rock band with big, messy hair, towering guitars and synthesizers, and a style that ranged from gloomy and weird to upbeat, happy and fun. At some point in your life, you've probably heard the 1994 song "Friday I'm In Love." A more upbeat Cure song to check out is "Why Can't I Be You?", the band's first journey into the Top 40.

A bunch of college guys from Athens, Georgia formed R.E.M. in 1980. The first hit R.E.M. had was in the early 80s with "Radio Free Europe" but their first mainstream hit didn't happen till the late 1980s (check out "The One I Love"). You've probably heard the song "Shiny Happy People."

Music changes every decade, but not necessarily every 10 years. The sound of the 80s more or less ended in 1991, when an alternative, college-radio band from the Seattle music scene called Nirvana released a single called "Smells Like Teen Spirit." The song was gigantic, and after that, almost everything about music changed. College radio became more mainstream and started to influence other pop music. The baggy flannel shirts and ripped jeans from the grunge scene replaced the bright, dressy colors of the 80s. Lyrics became more Nirvana-esque—vague, hard to understand, and open to interpretation. Grunge was a mash-up of hard rock, college radio, a bit of punk, and some heavy metal. Messy, distorted guitars and moody, introspective lyrics distinguished grunge from its college radio cousin.

And, of course, it carried over into Christian music, too. In 1995 grunge hit Christian music, DC Talk released "Jesus Freak," and suddenly Christian teens had their own grunge anthem. Modern skate culture and moshing have their roots in grunge. Christian punk and Christian alternative rock find their musical roots in college radio and grunge music.

Check out college radio and grunge this week. Here's hoping you find something new!

image © istockphoto / thinkstock.

Music Minute: In Which Bob Dylan, Salvador Dali, and Napoleon Dynamite Meet For Tea

Jen here, bringing y'all another Music Minute. Today I'm thinking about surrealism and art.

One of the many ways an artist can distinguish himself from all the other artists out there is by using a kind of unique angle or perspective through which we're supposed to view his art (and maybe the world, too). You could even say that combining "known" things together in unknown ways makes them more interesting to people.

For example, if you've ever seen a Tim Burton movie (like Edward Scissorhands, The Nightmare Before Christmas, or Alice in Wonderland), then you probably know that Tim Burton's movies tend to be elaborately decorated, and populated with people you could say are larger-than-life clichés, almost like cartoons. But Burton also seems to like taking a situation which looks pretty normal, and then introducing a character, setting, or other element which turns everything on its ear. In Edward Scissorhands, he combines a Frankenstein-type story with an uptight suburban neighborhood. In The Nightmare Before Christmas, the "what if" is "What if a bunch of scary Halloween characters suddenly got jealous of the fun of Christmas and tried to make Halloween more like it?" 

So one way to make art is to take two things your audience is familiar with and pair them together in a way that is new and different. It happens in books—how about a teen romance complicated by vampires and werewolves? Hey, Twilight! It happens on TV—how about a deserted island and time-travel? Look, it's Lost!

And it happens in music. Fifty-odd years ago, a guy named Bob Dylan combined acoustic folk music with a kind of art known as surrealism and changed popular music forever. (Later, he would combine his folk-surrealism with electric guitars and flip everybody out again.) 

You've seen the Salvador Dali painting "The Persistence of Memory," right? Dali's painting is an example of surrealism, an art movement from the early 20th century that involved drawing strange associations between two things that are generally thought to be unrelated. 

What Dali did with pocket watches and paint, Bob Dylan did with poems and a guitar. When he started writing and performing back in the early 1960s, folk music was kind of like pretty stories set to music. Dylan added humor, stream-of-consciousness writing, poetry and pop culture references into folk music and made something brand new out of it. Some songs became protest songs, others were just funny little songs that made people laugh.

And a few others just got weird. In "Highway 61 Revisited," he tells five stories (including the story of Abraham and Isaac) in the context of US Highway 61, which runs parallel to the Mississippi River. Highway 61 is where Delta blues guitarist Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil for the ability to play the guitar (in reality, Johnson never said he did this and the myth of selling one's soul to the devil for the ability to do something extraordinary is much older and more widespread).

Y'all see what he did? A Bible story, a legendary place, and a reference to classical literature themes...in a pop song. Bob Dylan expected you to have an education and know a few things if you listened to his music. But those things really have nothing in common with each other, and the song doesn't exactly play out logically.

Why am I talking about this? Well, you've seen Napoleon Dynamite. You know it's weird and random and funny and you don't really know why. Why are Chapstick and cage-fighting and a liger and big sleeves and tetherball and a stupid story about wolverines funny? Because they are random, unrelated, surreal things. In fact, a lot of comedy these days is based on surrealism, or things that are intentionally nonsense and weird. It's what makes Monty Python funny, and any time you see a band dressing up in costumes to give a concert, it's the same idea. You kind of have to know something about something in order to get it. 

So, to recap, Bob Dylan did protest songs, folksy songs, and some songs that were just plain strange. He used a raspy, nasal singing voice in the hopes people would listen to the words rather than just hum along with a pretty tune. He incorporated history and pop culture into his music, and came up with something new. He brought poetry and an intellectual seriousness to music. He influenced comedy, movies, modern humor, history, and pop culture. And you really should be familiar with a few Dylan songs. Here are some you should know. 

For protest songs, listen to "Blowin' In The Wind," "The Times They Are A-Changin'," and "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall." Think of the context of the '60s while you listen.

For some songs that are a little more straight-ahead rock, check out "Knockin' On Heaven's Door," "Forever Young," "Like A Rolling Stone," (which most people agree is about the 60s) and "Gotta Serve Somebody" (recorded shortly after Dylan became a Christian in the late 1970s).

For surrealism and weirdness, check out "Highway 61 Revisited," and "Subterranean Homesick Blues." 

Music Minute: Resurrection Edition

Jen here, skipping over pop music this time to bring you a Music Minute that's all about...you guessed it...Easter music.

Before I do, though, I'd like to say a few words about tradition. Did you know that the Bible actually says that people can get so wrapped up in tradition, they forget what God actually said? See Mark 7. A good example of this was the Old Testament law given to the Israelites to point the way to Jesus (according to Galatians 3:24, it was our guardian until Christ came to justify us by faith). By the time of Jesus, the law had ceased to mean anything to them other than a set of rules to keep. They didn't realize that the law was important, but it wasn't the point.

Traditions can make things cloudy. It was hard for the Israelites to see Jesus as anything but a lawbreaker because they were so focused on the law, it was hard to see God. Maybe your church has an Easter play or a sunrise service or even an egg hunt for the little kids. And by all means go to these and enjoy them, but remember what they point to—Jesus' resurrection. Don't let traditions (like the tasty Easter dinner you'll have after church) cloud the real reason you're there. Jesus dying and being resurrected mean something very important to the Christian, right? Try to keep that in the front of your mind this week.

Three ways to celebrate Christ's resurrection through music:

1. Listen to some old-school hymns. In my ongoing quest to get y'all to learn, memorize, and know some hymns, first up is a list of Easter-related hymns. (Remember, just because music is older doesn't mean it's no good. Hymns are full of sound theology and can be a great source of comfort, truth, and strength.) I've chosen contemporary arrangements of these songs because I want you to hear them apart from what you might have heard your whole life in church.

Classic hymns for Easter you should know, in no particular order:
• "Down at the Cross" - I love this version by MercyMe's Bart Millard. Hymns don't have to sound old!
• "There Is Power in the Blood" - A version by Mahalia Jackson that might give you chills.
• "The Old Rugged Cross" - Brad Paisley's version makes this old spiritual sound timeless and brand-new at the same time.
• "There Is A Fountain"- Maybe a little slower than you're used to, but give this pretty arrangement by Selah a spin.

2. Give Handel's Messiah a spin. Yes, this classical oratorio is traditionally played at Christmastime, but Handel actually intended it to be played at Easter. It premiered in April of 1742 and traces the life of Christ from prophecy through the Resurrection (THAT is what the Hallelujah chorus is about). To listen to Messiah online, you'll need about two hours. Click this link, then click the red "Listen: Handel's Messiah" icon. After a brief advert, the music will play, from start to finish. The words can be found here. You will be surprised at how few words there are.

For this column's previous look at Messiah, click here.

3. Check out these great worship songs, including some old-school favorites:
• The Good Confession (I Believe) - Andrew Peterson: ec editor Mandy says: "It's not an Easter song per se, but it comes at the end of his record Resurrection Letters, Vol. II, and reminds me of the moment I first believed, why it's important to confess Jesus as the Messiah, and the power He can and wants to display in my life."
• "Awesome God" - this worship classic was originally sung by Rich Mullins, but we love this Michael W. Smith tribute.
• Take a minute and listen to this Stuart Townend EP, and pay special attention to "How Deep the Father's Love Is" (a favorite of ec editor Mandy)
• In Christ Alone - Keith and Kristyn Getty: this song (written by Stuart Townend and Keith Getty) is a favorite of ec production editor Emily.

Music Minute

Not much new in the way of Christian music this week, so I just want to point you to a story I think you should read, and I'll be back in a couple weeks with more new stuff.

Some years ago, I went to church one Sunday to find it included a dedication service for three little girls a couple in the church had adopted from China. They already had kids, but they had space in their lives for more, so they invested their time and their lives into bringing these girls to the U.S., and into their home. The dedication was sweet and adorable, and the youngest girl squawked a time or two the way babies do when everything is quiet.

Last spring, I turned on the TV news to learn that this little girl had died suddenly and unexpectedly in an accident. It was Stephen Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter Maria, the same baby I'd prayed for years ago in church.

To see such a tragedy strike a family who lives part of its lives in public means that the way they choose to respond to it is public also. (I am not sure this is a good thing.) I wondered at the time how the Chapmans would handle what happened to them. Would they keep everything private, or would it become a public testimony for them of God's goodness in spite of such a sad event?

Since we've been talking about failure this month. isn't it easy to imagine that this family felt like a collective failure? They'd loved their daughter and welcomed her into their family, but they hadn't been able to protect her from this. We know they weren't failures, but we humans have a way of responding to tragedy by wondering what we could have done differently.

Yet the Chapmans are the exact polar opposite of failure. Something terrible happened to them, and they did what we all should do—they offered their lives up to God. "What would you have me do, Lord?" is probably one of the hardest questions to honestly ask God. It's difficult whether you're 15 or 50. And instead of condemnation and failure, they found God's grace.

What I want you to read today is a testimony of how God used this tragedy and their response to heal them, and bless a tremendous amount of people. Please take a few minutes to read it. And remember, no matter where you are and how dark things seem, God can find you—and He makes it His business to lead you out into the light.

God loves you. Here's the link.