You might be surprised that I’m writing about a Barry Manilow album, which (believe it or not) one of my favourite albums of 2001. I’ve previously written about my eclectic musical taste, so actually you might not find it as strange as it first seems. I’m not one to shy away from a particular musician simply because some might consider that choice uncool.
Here at the Mayfloweris a concept album, based on the Brooklyn apartment complex where Barry Manilow grew up. The album contains a mixture of musical styles, and some you not might expect. It’s very different from his work of the 1970s and 80s, and something of a hidden gem. Each song tells a story about the occupants of an apartment block. It’s a wonderful album.
The classic album Tapestryby Carole King was released on this day (10 February) in 1971. It’s a wonderful album (one that’s stood the test of time) with an iconic cover, and there were so many of those in the 1960s and 70s. I haven’t really got much to say about it, other than it’s one of the great albums. I bought it at the time, and I still listen to it regularly. Do check it out, you won’t be disappointed.
This is a new release by my friend Cousin Silas (not his real name) on his Bandcamp label. It’s a tribute to Tangerine Dream and Klaus Schultze, and the first ‘proper’ electronic type album on his Emporium label. It’s basically sequencers and ‘spacey’ sounds from the time when he (and I) began to discover music like this way back in the 1970s. I well remember discovering Phaedra, lying down with eyes closed, allowing the wonderful new and innovative music flow over me, with its wonderful musical metamorphoses.
This is one of my favourite albums of 2020. If you like Tangerine Dream, you’ll like this. Artwork is by my friend Thomas Mathie, who also has a Bandcamp label that features music by Cousin Silas and others. See also Coast (Cousin Silas).
You can see all my favourite 2020 albums by clicking here.
During today’s ongoing worldwide anti-racist demonstrations, a statue of slave trader Edward Colston in Bristol was toppled and unceremoniously dumped in the harbour. You can see the BBC News report of the demonstrations here.
For now though, let’s park our thoughts about the rights and wrongs of tearing down a statue, and simply seek to empathise with how black people would have felt walking past Edward Colston every day. In this highly-charged atmosphere, with the added tensions of coronavirus, we need to keep our focus on the deep issues of racism and white privilege. Let’s discuss these issues respectfully and communicate with grace.
Knowing the history of Bristol, I personally feel that the statue should have been taken down officially and (possibly) placed in a museum long ago. Such an official act could have acknowledged the hurt of the past and brought people together. It could have been a profound moment of repentance, redemption, reconciliation and renewal. Sadly, that moment has been lost.
In these difficult and challenging times we need visionary leaders in all countries and at all levels, unfortunately they currently they seem to be few and far between.
I first met Howard Webber back in the 1970s while working in the Pathology Department of Northampton General Hospital and studying to become Medical Laboratory Scientific Officer. Howard was also in the same line of work and moved to Northampton to take up a position in the Biochemistry Department, the branch of pathology in which I had decided to specialise.
We soon realised that we were both Salvationists, and later discovered we also shared the call of God to change direction from our chosen careers to follow vocations as full-time Salvation Army Officers, ministers of religion appointed to corps (church) leadership or other areas of Christian ministry. We both took this step of faith independently, and the majority of both our working lives have been following this calling. Howard is now an officer in retirement, a club I am soon to join in July this year.
The first part of Howard’s book ‘No Longer I?’ is a candid account of his rich and various experiences in corps life, along with his struggles in those situations (some intensely personal) and the eventual discovery of answers. The second part explores those issues in the light of scripture and is more devotional in style. Both parts work well together, as Howard describes and explores the ups and downs, the joys and the sorrows, on his own journey of faith. He tells it as it is, and I found his writing refreshingly open, honest and powerful.
Let me quote the opening paragraph: I have something I need to say before you go, ‘Miss Barrett called out as I closed the lounge door, so I opened it again and stepped back into the room. Following a brief preamble she got to the point of why she had called me back, ‘I need to tell you that you are the worst officer (minister) this corps (church) has ever had!’ Those harsh words of indictment, spoken in judgment at the end of his first appointment, set the tone for compelling lessons in practical Christian discipleship woven throughout the pages of the book.
This isn’t just a book for Salvationists, but one for anyone desiring to reach into the heart of Christian life and ministry. Maybe a devotional book for Lent?
Note: The title of the book comes from Paul’s Letter to the Galatians: I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:20 RSV)