Music is a Language

Photo by Spencer Imbrock on Unsplash

Have you read Shakespeare - and did you 'get' it and like it? It seems that generally, people either love or hate Shakespeare. I know Shakespeare's plays have actually been described as "laugh-out-loud funny." One amusing example is this excerpt from Hamlet, which occurs after Hamlet has killed the king's advisor Polonius:

King: Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
Hamlet: At supper.
King: At supper where?
Hamlet: Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. 

Get it? Polonius is "at supper" in that he is the food being served to worms, in a way. Because he's dead, see. Later, the king asks again:

King: Where is Polonius?
Hamlet: In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But if, indeed, you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.

So here, Hamlet says Polonius is "in heaven" because he's dead. Or maybe he's in hell, he suggests, but if you don't find him soon, you'll smell his rotting corpse.

Hilarious! I mean, not to me, but to some people. ​

I get the jokes, but they fall flat for me because the language is just too inaccessible. So my reaction is more of an, “Oh, right. Heh.” than a actual laughter.
 
You know how sometimes you hear two people tell the same joke, same words, but you only really laugh at one because the delivery is so different? One just hits you differently.

Or even when reading books or articles, you may find yourself zoning out in one and not the other, all due to style rather than content. Something just clicks with one, but not another.

Language is like that. We have different dialects, different speech patterns, different rhythms - and it's perfectly fine. In some settings, we code-switch to fit in, but we all have natural styles that feel more authentic to us, and with which we more easily engage. Some people may feel more comfortable with multiple styles than others.

And so it is with music!

Music is a language too. And though we may speak a similar language, we usually have preferences, driven by what just feels right to us. Depending on our mood or the setting, we may be more or less comfortable with one type of music than another. We may be able to better understand the meaning of songs in certain styles than others, because we're not distracted by the dissonance of an unpreferred style.

There's an old joke about worship music - perhaps you've heard it before:

An old farmer went to the city one weekend and attended the big city church.
 
He came home and his wife asked him how it was. "Well," said the farmer, "It was good. They did something different, however. They sang praise choruses instead of hymns."
 
"Praise choruses?" said his wife. "What are those?"
 
"Oh, they're okay. They're sort of like hymns, only different," said the farmer.
 
"Well, what's the difference?" asked his wife.
 
The farmer said, "Well, it's like this - If I were to say to you:
'Martha, the cows are in the corn,' well, that would be a hymn.
 
If, on the other hand, I were to say to you:
'Martha, Martha, Martha, Oh, Martha, MARTHA, MARTHA,
the cows, the big cows, the brown cows, the black cows, the white cows,
the black and white cows, the COWS, COWS, COWS
are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn,
the CORN, CORN, CORN.'
 
Then, if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times, well that would be a praise chorus."
 
Not long after, a young, new Christian left the big city church one weekend and attended the farmer's small-town church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was.
 
"Well," said the young man, "It was good. They did something different, however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs."
 
"Hymns?" said his wife. "What are those?"
 
"Oh, they're okay. They're sort of like regular songs, only different," said the young man.
 
"Well, what's the difference?" asked his wife.
 
The young man said, "Well it's like this - If I were to say to you,
'Martha, the cows are in the corn,' well, that would be a regular song.
 
If, on the other hand, I were to say to you:
 
Oh Martha, dear Martha, hear thou my cry;
Inclinest thine ear to the words of my mouth.
Turn thou thy whole wondrous ear, by and by,
To the righteous, inimitable, glorious truth.
 
For the way of the animals who can explain?
There in their heads is no shadow of sense.
Hearkenest they in God's sun or His rain,
Unless from the mild, tempting corn they are fenced.
 
Yea, those cows in glad bovine rebellious delight,
Have broke free their shackles, their warm pens eschewed.
Then goaded by minions of darkness and night
They all my mild Chilliwack sweet corn have chewed.
 
So look to that bright shining day by and by,
Where all foul corruptions of earth are reborn.
Where no vicious animal makes my soul cry,
And I no longer see those foul cows in the corn.
 
"Then, if I were to do only verses one, two and four and do a key change on
the last verse, well, that would be a hymn."

I'll say it again: music is a language too! As illustrated in this joke, each couple had a preferred musical style that felt more comfortable to them. When faced with an alternate style, it felt strange and uncomfortable, perhaps inaccessible.
 
A real-life example of this is with the old hymn “Come, Ye Disconsolate.” This was written in the early 1800s and has appeared in hundreds of hymnals (including the ELW sitting on my shelf right now). Perhaps you know this song; perhaps you love this song; perhaps you even knew how to pronounce “disconsolate” when you first saw it (to be quite honest, I was unsure where the accent lied, because this is not a word that I come across regularly).
 
Here is a piano-led version with a female soloist, in a style very typical of what you’d find in many mainline churches. Here is a duet version in more of a gospel style. And here is an instrumental pipe-organ version (I couldn’t find a pipe-organ version with singing). Have a listen, to at least a few lines. You’ll get the idea.  
 
The lyrics of 19th century “Come, Ye Disconsolate” are:
 
Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish;
Come to the mercyseat, fervently kneel.
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot heal.
 
Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure;
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot cure.”
 
Here see the Bread of life; see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above.
Come to the fest of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heav’n can remove.
 
Meanwhile, in 2014, Crowder released an updated version of this hymn called “Come As You Are.” It has a lot of the same imagery, some of the same phrases, but with updated language and music. It is, frankly, a translation of the original song. Listen to the original here, at least a few lines, to get an idea. And for a more direct comparison to the previous song, here is a piano-led version with a female soloist.
 
The lyrics of Crowder’s 2014 “Come As You Are” are:
Come out of sadness, from wherever you’ve been
Come brokenhearted, let rescue begin
Come find your mercy, oh sinner come kneel
Earth has no sorrow that heaven can’t heal
Earth has no sorrow that heaven can’t heal
 
(chorus) So lay down your burdens, lay down your shame
All who are broken, lift up your face
Oh, wanderer, come home, you’re not too far
So lay down your hurt, lay down your heart
Come as you are
 
There’s hope for the hopeless and all those who’ve strayed
Come sit at the table, come taste the grace
There’s rest for the weary, rest that endures
Earth has no sorrow that heaven can’t cure
 
(chorus) So lay down your burdens, lay down your shame
All who are broken, lift up your face
Oh, wanderer, come home, you’re not too far
So lay down your hurt, lay down your heart
Come as you are, come as you are
Fall in his arms, come as you are
 
There’s joy for the morning, oh sinner be still
Earth has no sorrow that heaven can’t heal
Earth has no sorrow that heaven can’t heal
 
Unless you’re used to 19th century verbiage, the lyrics of Crowder’s translation are probably much more accessible to you. It reminds me of Martin Luther writing “[W]e must ask the mother in the home, the children on the street, the common man in the marketplace. We must be guided by their language, by the way they speak, and do our translating accordingly.” (Open Letter on Translating, 1530)
 
So when we think about music in worship, we should also be thinking of that music as a language and dialect. Does our music help build understanding? Does it allow the assembly to understand and thus fully engage with the worship music they’re singing? Does the music fit the audience, or does it distract them out of the mindset of worship [note that this can happen with any type of music, depending on the people]?
 
Music is a language, and is used to communicate. Lyrics communicate just as any spoken word (especially poetry) would do, and instrumentation adds on extra layers of communication. Think about the music we play or sing, especially in worship, and think about the implications of our chosen language/dialect.