I went to a show on Friday. I'm embarrassed to say that it was the first show I've been to in a few years. It was a benefit concert with opening bands I had never heard of. Really I was there to see my favorite ska band ever. But I need to find some new music... I feel like such an old person when all I listen to are CD's I bought 7-10 years ago. So I listened to the opening bands too.
The first band took the stage. Cue fog machine and fancy lights, and background track with a creepy voice recording for the creepy-looking guitarist to mouth along to... I'm not impressed. Really the music wasn't terrible. It was a flashback relief to FEEL bass instead of straining to hear it beneath the vocals (which is what happens at most churches--the primary place I hear live music these days). I was reminded of my "bass chick" days, as the lead singer thrashed/danced around with intensity I could never fake. As he stood on the monitors in his skinny jeans and prompted the crowd to clap, my hands continued to keep the beat on my leg as I tapped my foot, still not won over... Matt asked me if someone was playing synth, because we heard synth and strings pretty frequently. Nope. No keyboard in sight. Turns out they were all playing along to tracks that were pre-recorded. Is this common these days? Anyway, as the lead singer tried in vain to get more than 5 people to jump or wave their arms around for longer than 3 seconds, my determination to NOT follow his cues increased. I thought, "I don't like it when bands tell me what to do." Matt and I agreed that if the music is really great, you don't have to try to force people to get into it. It's not like we had our backs turned, trying to tune them out. We were all watching, waiting for something impressive enough to respond to. What is it that makes a musician think, "Everybody is just standing there. I bet it's because I'm not telling them what to do"?
The second band was better. I plan to look them up and maybe even buy some of their songs. But then Five Iron Frenzy started their set-up and nobody had to be prompted to move closer to the stage. The room filled up and people cheered for the sound checks. When the first song started, I felt a flood of relief. "Now THIS is great music." It's hard to hold still for good music. Especially ska. And especially when the musicians are having a blast.
All of these reflections on crowd dynamics and music and emotions reminded me of something I read in a book once... I can't find it, but it was advice to worship leaders and song writers, telling them not to tell people how to feel--instead of saying things like "God is awesome!" to be more creative about leading people to recognize God's awesomeness themselves. Similarly, Tim Keller says, "we should not tell others how they are supposed to feel at the moment ('Don't you just really want to...?' or 'Isn't the Lord just so good?'). Both are manipulative and 'bathetic,' working directly on the feelings instead of pointing to the Lord." (Worship By the Book, edited by D.A. Carson).
In other words, telling people that they should be more excited about music that hasn't proven to be that great is like telling people to raise their hands when they aren't sure that God is really great. Singing a cappella or cranking up the bass might increase their emotions about the music, but it won't remove their doubts or close off their distance from God.
The first band took the stage. Cue fog machine and fancy lights, and background track with a creepy voice recording for the creepy-looking guitarist to mouth along to... I'm not impressed. Really the music wasn't terrible. It was a flashback relief to FEEL bass instead of straining to hear it beneath the vocals (which is what happens at most churches--the primary place I hear live music these days). I was reminded of my "bass chick" days, as the lead singer thrashed/danced around with intensity I could never fake. As he stood on the monitors in his skinny jeans and prompted the crowd to clap, my hands continued to keep the beat on my leg as I tapped my foot, still not won over... Matt asked me if someone was playing synth, because we heard synth and strings pretty frequently. Nope. No keyboard in sight. Turns out they were all playing along to tracks that were pre-recorded. Is this common these days? Anyway, as the lead singer tried in vain to get more than 5 people to jump or wave their arms around for longer than 3 seconds, my determination to NOT follow his cues increased. I thought, "I don't like it when bands tell me what to do." Matt and I agreed that if the music is really great, you don't have to try to force people to get into it. It's not like we had our backs turned, trying to tune them out. We were all watching, waiting for something impressive enough to respond to. What is it that makes a musician think, "Everybody is just standing there. I bet it's because I'm not telling them what to do"?
The second band was better. I plan to look them up and maybe even buy some of their songs. But then Five Iron Frenzy started their set-up and nobody had to be prompted to move closer to the stage. The room filled up and people cheered for the sound checks. When the first song started, I felt a flood of relief. "Now THIS is great music." It's hard to hold still for good music. Especially ska. And especially when the musicians are having a blast.
All of these reflections on crowd dynamics and music and emotions reminded me of something I read in a book once... I can't find it, but it was advice to worship leaders and song writers, telling them not to tell people how to feel--instead of saying things like "God is awesome!" to be more creative about leading people to recognize God's awesomeness themselves. Similarly, Tim Keller says, "we should not tell others how they are supposed to feel at the moment ('Don't you just really want to...?' or 'Isn't the Lord just so good?'). Both are manipulative and 'bathetic,' working directly on the feelings instead of pointing to the Lord." (Worship By the Book, edited by D.A. Carson).
In other words, telling people that they should be more excited about music that hasn't proven to be that great is like telling people to raise their hands when they aren't sure that God is really great. Singing a cappella or cranking up the bass might increase their emotions about the music, but it won't remove their doubts or close off their distance from God.
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