by Ben Howard
My first introduction to Derek Webb's music came during my sophomore year of college. I listened to the Mockingbird album probably a few hundred times that year, and maybe a few hundred more since then, in fact I'm listening to it while I write this sentence.
My first introduction to Derek Webb's music came during my sophomore year of college. I listened to the Mockingbird album probably a few hundred times that year, and maybe a few hundred more since then, in fact I'm listening to it while I write this sentence.
That
album and Derek's other work both before and since served as my
introduction to politically and religiously honest music. At a time
in my life when I had a lot of questions and confusions regarding my
faith and my beliefs, Derek's music has always challenged me while
simultaneously making me feel like I'm not alone.
Last
Tuesday, Derek Webb released his seventh studio album Ctrl
and thankfully I was afforded a download so that I could give it a listen.
Ctrl is
certainly an interesting and challenging album. Like much of Webb's
work it is both intensely personal while at the same time being very
political. As the name would suggest the album focuses on the concept
of control, or, to be more specific, the illusion of control in
modern life.
The
album opens with the dissonant sounds of a choir singing Sacred Harp
music (a turn of the century a capella musical style that must be
heard to be understood) that immediately sets the listener on edge
knowing that they are in for something different.
Following
the Sacred Harp intro, we are led into the mellow controlled guitar
chords of “And See The Flaming Skies,” which are occasionally
backed again by the Sacred Harp music. The mixture of the two creates
a beautiful, but tense auditory landscape.
This
feeling of control-on-the-edge continues into the melancholy, “A
City With No Name.” Webb acknowledges this illusory control
singing, “you have less control of it, then it has of you.” This
song is followed by rhythmic ticking clock/racing heartbeat of “Can't
Sleep.” In fact, the first five songs on the album all share this
tense control-on-the-edge-of-chaos atmosphere. Each song feels
tempered, measured, purposeful, but with just a hint that everything
could come tumbling down at any moment.
In
the light of this measured, precise, yet teetering musical dynamic,
“Attonitos Gloria” feels exactly like the religious experience
its name evokes. Possibly the strangest song on the album, “Attonitos
Gloria” feels like a compilation of Mannheim Steamroller and Muse,
and while that may sound bizarre, I promise you that it is surreally
beautiful.
In
the wake of this glorious experience of God, Webb dips into the
simplest and most hauntingly beautiful song on the album, “I Feel
Everything.” The song begins with only a simple acoustic guitar and
a stripped down vocal track. The lyrics include a lament of our
current culture of consumption and the illusion of control. At one
point Webb pointedly states that what he has discovered, “is not
control/it is a promise meant to quell my every fear/yet leave me
cursed.” The chorus of the song cries out, “I cannot hear because
I hear everything/I cannot see because I see everything/I cannot feel
because I feel everything.” The song ends with the beeping of a
heart monitor that flatlines as the Sacred Harp music kicks back in
with a funeral dirge. This life is dead.
“Reanimate”
picks up with the beeping of a monitor coming back to life as a light
acoustic guitar plays reassuringly warm chords. The album finishes
with three songs exploring the rebirth experienced once the illusion
of control is surrendered to God.
“A
Real Ghost” embraces the surrealness of this rebirth with lines
like, “full lungs/emotions/things I feel I've never felt before.”
The final song, “Around Every Corner” is a driving pop song that
reads as a redemptive creed, the promise of one freed from the
burdens and confines of a life-lived-in-construct.
Ultimately,
Ctrl is a beautiful
work of art the conveys an incisive critique of technology,
consumption and modern life as well as a mode and hope for redemption
and recovery from the life in which we've enslaved ourselves.
However,
let me warn you that Ctrl
is a serious album. It's unlikely you'll put this on during a
roadtrip or find yourself singing at the top of your lungs. It's the
kind of album you ruminate over, the kind of songs where you sit
alone in your room and stare at the lyrics while you listen.
You
may very well enjoy this album, but that is not its first aim. It
means to challenge you, and if you accept that challenge, it means to
lead you somewhere beautiful, somewhere you've never been before.
Peace,
Ben
You can
purchase Ctrl from derekwebb.com.
Special
thanks to Derek and Brian at Media Collective for making this album
available.
Follow Ben on Twitter @BenHoward87.
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