The ugliest song ever

Every song we sing was new once. And chances are it went over like a lead balloon when it debuted. Yet it persevered somehow and rooted in people's minds and hearts and ears. And it came to be seen as durable, worthwhile, beautiful.



I come across some musical dogs every now and then. Last year the Prophets were asked to consider adding a song to their repertoire. We played through it and hated it. Then we played through it again. And hated it still. The words were dated and the musical idiom passe. And the style of the song just didn't mesh with what we thought was "our" sound, nor did we think it would resonate with the worshiping congregation we lead musically each week. We decided not to add it to our repertoire.



The adult choir sang through a hymn in rehearsal recently. Someone remarked, "1962?!? I didn't know this song was that recent!!" An "old" favorite was actually a relatively new song, especially in terms of making it into a hardcover hymnal. BTW the same is true for that stalwart favorite, "How great thou art." It was new in 1953; if you're over the age of 30, that's still a new song for you. You really didn't grow up singing it all your life.



A musician colleague used to remind me that, "if a worship song was more than 3 years old it belongs in a hymnal. " A couple of things are at play here. First, he accounted hymnals as stale and moribund. Second the best songs for worship were the newest and hottest; they hadn't even been published, merely circulated via the Internet. And more incredibly, a song was "old" after a mere 3 years! And while I disagree there is still food for thought here. There are some extremely popular contemporary songs that have some theological heft and substance, which do belong in bound hymnals, and indeed have been added to standard collections in recent years.



The are plenty of solid ways to score a hymn on music and language. But ultimately there is that "x" factor that can make or break a song for any musical group or any worshiping congregation. Regularly I remark to the musicians I work with about the "thing" that keeps a song from being perfect in my estimation. It may be a weak chord progression or a wimpy lyric phrase. There are plenty of good songs around, several great songs, but very, very few perfect songs.

And yet, for every song, there is probably someone for whom it means the whole world. Someone for whom that lyric and tune opened up a new dimension in sound and faith. So I tread lightly when I critique a song. And every time I speak disparagingly about a song, I try to remember to say something to the effect that I know it may be someone's favorite.




As I've said before the days of going to the hymnal and picking three hymns for a given Sunday morning are long gone. There are too many choices and their are too many personal and social mandates to consider (i.e. "I have to like it," we need to sing songs by women, by African-Americans, from third world cultures; we need newer songs with fresh images for God). With that in mind we can't afford to sing even a very, very favorite hymn more than two or three times in a year. Not only will it not be likely that a single hymn really is the best fit more than that, there are so many other songs that could be the best fit, if we can just allow room for them to make their way into our liturgy, and from there into our subconscious and from there into our theological memory.



If you don't like the songs this Sunday, just wait a week. They'll be totally different next week! Sorry for the rambling. Guess what: I was looking at some new songs for worship this week: Woof!