Dropped the youngest off at choir again tonight. This time at a different church, but still on the other side of the city. Thankfully this one is near one of the seemingly last remaining independent coffee shops around. So here I sit in a nice pale blue wingback chair, with indie singer-songwriter folk music playing through the system. And I love that I don't recognize a single song or artist that I've heard tonight. Feels like the coffee shops I'd frequent (and often perform or display my artwork in) back in the 90s. So here I am, already finishing off a delicious decaf mocha, and wondering what to order next. Gotta support the local "little guys" right?
Tonight I will attempt to write about another song from the upcoming album - the only worship song of mine which made its debut in a pub before being sung in church. I wrote "From the Ashes" in about 2 days. I was working on other tasks at my church, probably rehearsing songs for the upcoming Sunday. And then my hands fell on a G#m. And I started picking out the progression, and immediately knew this wouldn't be a happy song. The words and melody started flowing along with the chords like they had already known each other, and were simply being reintroduced. I went on with my day of simple tasks, re-setting the stage, printing off chord charts for Sunday… all while singing this new song to myself, still testing out different words, phrases and melodies as I went.
Later that day I played what I had started for one of the other pastors, who upon hearing the desperate cries of brokenness, voiced his concern. "Is everything okay, Pete? Do you need to talk?" Nope, all good. Then when I played it for my lead pastor, he said it resolved too quickly. That surprised me. He encouraged me to linger in that space a little longer. So that evening I wrote the second part to the song, "The ashes fall like rain, and heaven's light is gone. The darkness is my friend, and silence in my song." I borrowed from Psalm 88 for the darkness is my friend part. That is the one Psalm which doesn't resolve into the language of trust or praise, but simply finishes, "and darkness is my only friend."
A common theme at songwriting events I would attend over the years is the need for songs of lament in modern worship. But I don't know that they aren't being written - I think they are, but perhaps churches don’t always leave space for them, and the Christian radio wants more positive content... The other challenge is that songs of lament are also very personal, and are hard to write for congregational singing. I feel that the songs “Until the Silence Breaks” and “Sinner’s Serenade” from this album work very well as congregational laments. This song, not so much. But it is a song I felt needed to be written.
So I pretty much kept it to myself, singing it at home and around the church during the week. And then eventually while hosting our open mic at Dickens Pub, I decided to give it a go. Now mind you, this was no typical open mic. This was “Café Absinthe” - an eclectic gathering made up of many of our dear friends, many from the local goth and steampunk communities (often in full attire), with people ranging from Christians to Satanists, from Wiccans and Atheists to who-knows-what. For a few years it was a pretty regular event which we described as “Open Mic meets TED talks, meets Show and Tell”. There would be people sharing not only music and poetry, but also about literature, history, biology, geology, clowning, magic, rock stacking, embalming, video games… And that week it felt like the right time and place (and audience) for the debut, so I played the song during our opening set. It was well received, and I am very grateful for their applause, encouragement, support and friendship.
It wasn't until filming for our online Ash Wednesday service some time later (during the pandemic lock-downs) that I decided to share it with my church family. The video is a raw and simple "unplugged" version of it - just me and my acoustic. You can check it out on the "videos" page of this website.