Cultural purging, to music: meanderings on art without God

Over at NRO’s Corner, Mark Hemingway linked to this mashup of the 2008’s top 25 pop hits. (Note: Unsurprisingly, there are a lot of half-naked, plasticized women. All of our minds would be better off if we just listened instead of watched. Also, you’ll love this ad-replacing plugin…)

The mashup itself is pretty good, I suppose; interesting, at least. That said, as someone who several years ago began to eschew most of modern culture, particularly music (because it’s not, anymore, for the most part), I was unfamiliar with the majority of the songs on the playlist (in fact, all but four or five of them), and decided to pop on over to iTunes for a better listen to the original songs.

You know, for the most part…They’re horrible. Awful. Most can hardly be called “songs”. Everything is over-canned, hyper-formatted, and bland; most of the songs sound extraordinarily like one another (this probably accounts for the popularity of artists like Colbie Callat and Sarah Bareilles, who actually sing and sound musical, and also don’t make copulation the focus of every single song). The songs seem intent upon nothing more than creating an emotional rush or high instead of any artistic or musical accomplishment or even intellectual reflection. The blandness is just as offensive as the artists are presumably trying to make their lyrics, and even the excess of excess fails to interest. Me, at least. Perhaps this is because the vulgarity is expected?

(Actually, the exact same thing can be said for the plurality of CCM and church “praise and worship” songs, except maybe the coition bit. Go figure.)

More frustratingly, there is no personality attached to most of the voices other than the modern one, that of appearance. Vocal and stylistic “quirks” used to be trademarks; no one confused Peggy Lee with Jo Stafford, or Frank with Bing. Heck, no one could mix up Benny Goodman with Harry James. Now, though, thanks to technology, voices are smoothed over, plumped, padded, and stretched. They’re nearly indistinguishable, like the “melodies” themselves (and they’re hardly that), which is tragic when one considers music to be one of man’s ways to express himself, and the most beautiful way to do so. When the voice doing the expressing has the same sheen as all the rest, the thoughts and feelings being given voice and flight suddenly seem to mean less and carry less weight; somehow, the ear knows an imperfection has been taken away or covered up, when it is often the imperfections about others we find most endearing.

I shudder to think of the artists we’d have never heard had this mindset existed forty, fifty, sixty years ago—and know all too well of the sorts of singers and musicians left to bloom unseen by many more than God, because they don’t fit into the template and refuse to be wedged into it.

What we see being done in today’s “music” seems rather like taking a child’s finger painting or Crayola scrawlings and PhotoShopping them so they look “right”, removing the dog’s extra legs and making sure the house has the correct number of windows, while making those triangular flowers look a tad more realistic. In attempting to “perfect” music, “they’ve” killed it‚ when I’m not so sure music should ever have been “perfect” in the first place (proper musical execution aside).

Let’s just say that after listening to but thirty seconds of each song, I…I…well. I’m Listerine-ing my mind and ears with classical, jazz, swing, and a light sprinkling of the Temptations (hey, I’m from Motown).

Still, reflecting on what little bits of flatness I can recall from this afternoon’s foray into modern popular music…Should we be at all surprised? As I mentioned a few weeks ago, we’ve neutered everybody then told them to go forth and multiply. But when they’ve nothing to work with, and nothing to stand upon, what can they do? Spew out more uncreative, boring, pap, often more vile than before, because left alone to his own devices, man has nothing to look at or meditate upon other than himself and his own desires; we know all too well to what man turns when he has no God, no moral foundation.

Call faith backwards if you like, but look at the lifestyle faith in God promotes and requires, then look at the lifestyle lived (or at least promoted) by the God-less, and tell me which group is more likely to be indulging in primitive, self-centered pursuits.

(Note: I’ll confess that I’m flummoxed regarding the aforementioned CCM/praise and worship music, which is supposed to be focused on God but clearly is not. The only possible reason for that has to be the widespread apostasy and even downright heresy in today’s churches, as well as their wholesale rejection of intellectual anything for no particular reason.)

What we seem to have is a dying, if not already room temperature, culture. Having kicked the only real source of creativity into the cellar where we needn’t concern ourselves with Him or His ideas anymore (well, we seem to think so, at any rate), we’re left to feed on all that remains: ourselves. And as He knows and many of His creations have pointed out, we human beings aren’t exactly a deep well, at least when it comes to anything exemplary and pleasant. This dearth of real wealth, combined with the loss of wonder and an eschewing of widely accepted standards, is now making itself heard not only in pop music, but in other forms of entertainment, with waves of vapid and dystopian books, plays, films, and television filling our theatres and bookshops, crowding out what used to be referred to as “the good stuff” in the process; after all, those things are old-fashioned, restrictive, and unenlightened.

This is not to say that all art should explicitly mention or portray God or subjects of faith; Heaven knows there is already way too much in the way of abysmally, well, craptastic “art” after this fashion, and we need no more clogging up the flea markets. It seems that these “artists” think God needs to be portrayed in a positive light, or that He needs our help, when He glorifies Himself and doesn’t need us for anything, including praise and adulation.

But Art is a grand and broad subject, and not really what I’m here (or prepared) to tackle.

Without God, there can be no real art, for He is the author of all things. Someone once referred to art as “God’s grandchild”, and in a way that’s true; we are His creations, and in trying to be like the Father we so love, is it any surprise that we find creative ways to do things and even have the desire to create, be it a painting, song, play, or just marvellous meals? Other than existing as God, the first thing we really read about God doing is creating the very heavens and earth we reside in. When a human being creates something, it is simply (but then not so simply) a reflection of the first character trait and ability we read about God possessing and, presumably, passing on to the ones He created in His very own image. I can’t see it any other way, particularly when I consider many of the world’s greatest man-made works of art.

What we are seeing now is one of the more interesting effects of rejecting God: man reflects all he has left, which is himself, even himself as God, at least of his or her own little world. Man detached from his Creator, his source of life, is indeed bleak, dystopian, shallow, befuddled, bitter, animalistic, rudderless, and crude; his actions and creations will inevitably reflect this truth. This is reflected not just in lifestyle and art, but in business, industry, politics…Just as God’s grace is rejected, grace in other things begins to disappear as well, from objects to actions.

Perhaps a life of faith does result in the artist having slightly more rose-coloured glasses; after all, we have a real hope in Jesus Christ, in a future with Him and the Father, where we will no longer struggle against sin and all of our deeds will truly honour and glorify the Ones we so love. Despite the decay, denials, and destruction on earth, Christians especially have faith in something wholly good, wholly true, and boundless in all ways; could this be part of becoming a “new creature”, as the Bible tells us we become when we bend our knee to Christ? Drawing upon the boundlessness of God, people of faith have (or should have) far more to work with than those whose only god is their own person, their own desires. If nothing else, even the acknowledgment of His existence means one recognizes the reality of boundaries to our own abilities, perfection being nowhere within those bounds.

Well, this got way out of control, didn’t it? But to someone trying, at least, to be an artist, and as someone who was seemingly born with strong artistic tendencies, watching popular artistic efforts is always interesting and thought-provoking, and being Irish, there’s no way I can resist putting my words to…um, screen. (Benedict and Buckley quickly tire of my chattering.)

Ultimately, there is no beauty or meaning in artistic expression without God, whether the art is good or bad. Even the base, morally desolate, and despairing artistic expressions now being dry-heaved by and into our culture would have no meaning were there no God, if only because He is still here to listen and respond to them.

My hope is that those understandably despairing and egoistic souls find the real source of art, and that as we observe this disgorging of our folly made palpable in that which was meant to be beautiful, instructive, and stimulating, we pray for those so obviously in need of Him, whether they be the makers or partakers of the bile.

(Note: If you know of any book worth reading concerning this topic, I would love your suggestions.)