Sarah McLachlan Fills Wintersong With Melancholy and Surprising Melodies

Sarah McLachlan is an artist with whom I have some familiarity, thanks to her distinctive voice and the popularity of some of her songs, particularly Angel, which is one of several excellent tracks on the City of Angels soundtrack, which is so much better than the movie. I wasn’t too surprised that a woman who so famously sang about angels had a Christmas album out, and I was anxious to hear how she would put her own unique stamp on classic carols, along with more contemporary fare. For the most part, I liked what I heard.

Happy Xmas (War Is Over) - Sarah’s voice always seem to have a yearning quality to it, which makes it especially suited to this John Lennon classic. The constant current of sleigh bells helps balance the song with a more optimistic feel, as do the chorus of children who chime in on the “War is over” portion, rather late in the song. Their voices are a little too high for my tastes, making the words a little hard to understand the first time through, but otherwise it’s a nice cover. “And so this is Christmas / And what have we done? / Another year over, / And a new one just begun...”

What Child Is This (Greensleeves) - This is an interesting version of the song because the melody only occasionally bears any resemblance to the one I’m used to. I like the delicacy of the rendition, and the harmonies are lovely, but I can’t decide how I feel about the tune being so different. Also, in a couple of places she changes a few words. Usually it doesn’t bother me, but in one instance she changes the first of a rhyming pair without changing the second, which results in it sounding incomplete.

River - This melancholy song is another that seems to fit especially well with Sarah’s voice, especially on the chorus where she sings of wanting to fly, with her voice soaring up to the rafters. The song ends with the piano giving us a minor version of Jingle Bells that emphasizes the sadness of the speaker. “It’s coming on Christmas / They’re cutting down trees / They're putting up reindeer / And singing songs of joy and peace / Oh I wish I had a river / I could skate away on...”

Wintersong - Another very lonely sort of song, this one is piano-driven, and in that accompaniment I occasionally hear a hint of Dan Fogelberg‘s Same Old Lang Syne, or maybe I just imagine that I do since both have to do with lost love. A downer, but quite lovely nonetheless, and the only one on the album written by Sarah McLachlan herself. “And this is how I see you / In the snow on Christmas morning / Love and happiness surround you / As you throw your arms up to the sky / I keep this moment by and by.”

I'll Be Home For Christmas - Another wistful track, this one features a saxophone solo and an undercurrent of very desolate-sounding instrument that reminds me of ocean surf. A nice track, but rather spooky.

O Little Town of Bethlehem - The guitar work on this one is very interesting; I’m guessing that what I’m hearing on this one is the dobro, a type of guitar I don’t recall ever encountering before. It has a very distinct sound that is somewhat reminiscent of a banjo. Sarah’s vocals on this one are so soft are to almost sound like whispers, particularly since I was so much more focused on the instruments.

The First Noel / Mary Mary - The first is a very familiar song, while the second is one I’d never heard before, but it’s a tender, quiet sort of lullaby. The song also briefly features the melody of The Little Drummer Boy. While the track begins with The First Noel, it quickly goes on to Mary Mary before returning to the original, which has a completely unfamiliar melody and is augmented with urgently mysterious Middle Eastern-sounding instrumentals. As with What Child Is This, I’m not sure how I feel about it having such a different tune. But I do like the quiet finale of the song. “Some people call him Emmanuel / Think I’ll call him Jesus / Glory be to the newborn King.”

Silent Night - There are some really gorgeous harmonies on this piano-driven track that deviates occasionally from the familiar melody, though not to anywhere near the extent of the previous track. One of my favorite tracks on the album.

Song For a Winter's Night - This one caught me by surprise because I’m a big Gordon Lightfoot fan, but I don’t think I’d ever heard this song before. I’ll have to see if I can track down Gord’s version. Sarah’s is richly harmonic, with an odd sort of syncopated rhythm to it as she alternates between her alone and her in multiple. Probably my favorite track. “If I could only have you near to breathe a sigh or two / I would be happy just to hold the hands I love and to be once again with you.”

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - A backdrop of jingling bells gives this a fairly upbeat feel, though the flugelhorn solo hits closer to the tune’s typical wistful tone.

In the Bleak Mid Winter - A reverent version of a carol whose last verse is well-known but that nonetheless doesn’t seem to make it onto very many Christmas albums. Some nice guitar work on this one, and Sarah’s vocals are softly beautiful. “What can I give Him, poor as I am? / If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; / If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; / Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.”

Christmas Time Is Here - This song from A Charlie Brown Christmas pairs Sarah with Diana Krall on the piano. I think I prefer her version to the original, with its chorus of singing children. It’s very mellow and a gentle way to end the album. “Sleighbells in the air / Beauty everywhere / Yuletide by the fireside and joyful memories there...”

While some of Sarah McLachlan’s arrangements take arguably too much liberty with the melody, it’s interesting to hear such different takes on familiar tunes, not to mention a couple of songs I’d never heard before at all. This is a melancholy album; I’m not sure it quite delivers the dose of cheer expected of most Christmas projects, but if you’re looking for something a little different in your CD player this December, Wintersong may be just the thing for you.

A Pair of Matthews Steer Moving Masterpiece We Are Marshall

Matthew Fox just can't seem to get away from plane crashes. After getting to know him as Jack, the man largely responsible for maintaining some semblance of order amongst the castaways on LOST, my friend and I were eager to see him deal with the aftermath of another airline disaster in his new movie. Only in We Are Marshall, a true story of tragedy and triumph, his character survives the crash only because he wasn't on the plane.

Seventy-five people in the Marshall University community, including all but four members of the football team, boarded a plane back to Huntington, West Virginia on that foggy November night in 1970. As their town awaited their homecoming, the air was calm, Kelly's Heroes at the theater, Cracklin' Rosie on the radio. And then, time stood still for an announcement. Seventy-five people in the Marshall University community had been lost in an inferno just miles away. The town would never be the same.

As one of the team's coaches, Red Dawson (Fox) - who reluctantly takes on the role of assistant coach when the team is rebuilt - might well have been on that plane. Instead, he went home by a different route on official business. While everyone in the town grapples with grief in the ensuing months, his is more acute than most as he lost so many close associates, so many promising young athletes, so much faith in his ability to protect his players. Whenever I gazed into that tormented face, I almost expected that in the background, I would hear the strains of Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, the lament young revolutionary Marius sings in Les Miserables after realizing that all of his comrades have died in battle. There is darkness and conflict behind Foxy Matthew's steely eyes - so much that it's a lucky thing we have a Matthew of more mirth to balance him out.

Matthew McConaughey tends to be a bit of a goofball in his films. Here, as incoming head coach and father of three Jack Lengyel, he brings a welcome lightness to the proceedings, initiating most of the movie's funniest moments. But the humor is the result of folksy charm from a big-hearted man who volunteers to rebuild the football team after empathizing with all those bereft families. His way of doing things is sometimes unconventional, but he's passionate and effective. He's also very handy with a metaphor; his apt comparisons help him to get his way on several occasions. Though he is a stranger in this town, he learns what he can about the deceased and encourages his players to honor them by getting out there on that field.

The football aspect of the movie plays much like a typical inspirational sports movie. The team starts out a mess, consisting mostly of freshmen (thanks to a concession from the NCAA), some of whom have never played the sport before. The few returning players grow quarrelsome with all these newcomers wearing jerseys that only months before belonged to their friends, little caring about the history behind them. But as the townspeople powerfully demonstrate early in the film, seeing their beloved football team in action again could do wonders for this bereaved town, so they have to pull themselves together. And with Jack on the job, help has a tendency to come from unexpected sources.

Notable personalities include Nate Ruffin (Anthony Mackie), who bears the burden of his survivor's guilt by straining against his injured shoulder in an effort to lead his teammates to victory; Annie Cantrell (Kate Mara), a lovely young waitress who, as the fiancee of one of the doomed players, strives to assuage the sorrow and loneliness of his father (Ian McShane), one complimentary dessert at a time; and perhaps my favorite character, buttoned-up university president Donald Dedmon (David Strathairn), who struggles to settle upon the most respectful course of action in the face of such tragedy and eventually learns to let passion overtake propriety for the sake of a grieving town.

The film's two-hour running time teeters toward the over-long but doesn't cross the line. Rather, the story's gradual unfolding allows us to witness the changes that occur over the course of nearly a year as well as get a glimpse into the complications involved in starting up a football team nearly from scratch. Appealing aerial views of this coal town surrounded by mountains add to the film's beauty, as does the soundtrack, peppered with such mellow classics as Gordon Lightfoot's If You Could Read My Mind and Cat Stevens' Peace Train.

In one of We Are Marshall's earliest scenes, the ill-fated coach impresses upon his team that winning games is the only thing that matters. By the end of the film, we get the sense that this isn't true anymore. While a win is always something to strive for, Jack and Red have foresight, laying the groundwork for future champions. For now, the most important thing is just taking the field, unified, proud to play a part in the continuance of this team's legacy. We Are Marshall aspires to be a movie about perseverance, about recovering from an unfathomable ordeal and somehow finding beauty in the ashes. It succeeds.

Songs for a Storm Write-Off: A Soundtrack for Katrina and Other Natural Disasters

For the past week and a half or so, it seems all that anyone can talk about is the weather. It’s been some of the fiercest America has ever seen, bearing down in full force upon the communities along the Gulf Coast, most noticeably New Orleans. Certainly I have rain on the brain. I wish there was something concrete I could do to help the countless victims, something that felt more substantial than sending my paltry donation along to the Red Cross. We’re a bit removed from all this here Erie; though there are a few folks relocating here, it’s because they have relatives. It’s an awfully long drive from Louisiana to Pennsylvania to seek shelter from a stranger. But if people are looking for a safe haven from the tumultuous climate, they really couldn’t do much better than Erie. We get all the basic weather phenomena, of course: rain, snow, occasional sleet. But hurricanes? Forget about it. The season is only half over, and I can’t help but wonder if any other unpleasant surprises are in store, so I’m grateful to be where I am, feeling only mild after effects from the fierce winds and waves that buffet cities far south. The following are songs for a stormy season, and I invite anyone who reads this to ponder what music you listen to in inclement weather and join me in my Songs for a Storm Write-Off. Pick as many or as few as you like, for whatever reason. I’ve been giving it some thought, and while I know there are plenty of others I might recall given enough time, here are a few that entered my mind right off the bat.

Atmospheric

These songs capture the mood of a variety of weather phenomena, ranging from gentle to ghastly. Weather is a rather popular topic in song, so there’s a fairly wide range of song styles represented.

The Rain, Rain, Rain Came Down, Down, Down - This is a gentle little Winnie-the-Pooh song expressed with appropriately simplistic lyrics that mix impending danger with light humor. Do we really believe any harm can come to one of the Wood’s fluff-filled residents? Nonetheless, the escapade is thrilling in its own small way, illustrating various ingenious evacuation methods. If only everyone could flee their flooding home in an empty honey pot. Ten honey pots he rescued, / enough to see him through. / But as he sopped up supper, / the river sopped up Pooh. / And down the creek he traveled / in a honey pot canoe. Another Disney song accompanying a sequence showing how various woodland creatures deal with a fierce storm is Little April Shower. This Bambi tune is intriguing because the music follows the pattern of an actual rainstorm, starting out in slow, faint drips, building to incorporate fierce winds, driving rain and claps of thunder, and finally dying down to the little drips again. Drip, drip, drop / little April shower / beating a tune / as you fall all around. / Drip, drip, drop / little April shower / what can compare / to your beautiful sound?

Kathy’s Song - This is usually the first song I associate with rain. It provides such a lovely, ethereal backdrop for one of Paul Simon’s sweetest love songs and serves as a moody extended metaphor. He sounds so young and naive here, though his voice is marked with the pangs of forlorn love. Like the sky, he is weeping; he feels as dull as the steely clouds that loom overhead. Yet there is a sense of peace in the steady stream of raindrops. Paul misses Kathy, but he is grateful rather than despondent, for he knows that they will not be parted for long, and soon he will be reunited with the woman who completes him. As I watch the drops of rain / weave their weary paths and die, / I know that I am like the rain: / There but for the grace of you go I. A shame, really, that things didn’t work out between them. It was such a sweet young romance. Kathy was Paul’s Annie, but girls inspiring such pure reflections could not adjust to the cruelties of the music business. Anyway, check out Annie’s Song while you’re at it; comparable in terms of the addressee, and though considerably less melancholy, it also speaks to yearning. Not to mention the great line about filling up his senses like a walk in the rain.

Calypso - While I’m thinking of John Denver, I have to mention this tune, which is more a tribute to the sea than a commentary on atmospheric condition, but one cannot think of hurricanes without recalling the sea. I hold that in a career full of songs of exuberance, Denver never sounded more joyful than when singing this song. It must have been an amazing kick for him to visit this vessel of a man he so admired, getting a rare first-hand glimpse of the tasks Jacques Cousteau and his men so diligently performed. His exhilaration is palpable, particularly when he reaches the end of the chorus and his yodel-like vocals burst forth ever stronger. I can’t attempt to sing the song without running out of breath. All the energy of the sea is harnessed in this one tune, and it’s a reminder of all the beauty and glory the waves can carry with them. It’s easy to forget that in the midst of such destruction. Aye, Calypso, the places you’ve been to, / the things that you’ve shown us, the stories you tell. / Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, / the men who have served you so long and so well. Another great song celebrating the majesty of the natural world is Earth and All Stars, a hymn we used to sing every year in elementary school when we did a short program for the church with which the school was affiliated. This particular church had a very impressive organ and a very talented organist, and the effect of the various vocal groupings and instrumentals was always stirring. As students, we always had to sing by ourselves the verse mentioning classrooms and labs, but the nods to the environment were more prevalent. Many people seem to hate this hymn, but I can think of few songs that, when performed properly, can glorify God with greater feeling. Hail, wind and rain, / loud blowing snowstorms, / sing to the Lord a new song!

Flood - Things could be worse. As horrible as the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina has been, the water is already receding, and the vast majority of victims escaped with their lives. Still, if I were there, I imagine I might feel a bit like Noah, helplessly watching as water engulfs everything in sight, left with no recourse but to simply trust in God for deliverance. This Jars of Clay song is dark and gritty, throbbing with despair, but in the end the sense of hope is what prevails, as it must for the victims of this current disaster. Rain, rain on my face. / It hasn’t stopped raining for days. / My world is a flood. / Slowly I become one with the mud. / But if I can’t swim after forty days / And my mind is crushed by the thrashing waves / Lift me up so high that I cannot fall. / Lift me up. For a lighter take on the story of Noah’s flood, try the Irish Rovers’ The Unicorn (Noah looked out through the driving rain. / Those unicorns were hiding and playing silly games, / kicking and splashing while the rain was pourin’… / Oh, those silly unicorn.) or, to lift your spirits, the incessantly upbeat and seemingly never-ending Rise and Shine (aka “The Arky Arky Song”), used by Ned Flanders on one occasion to drive Homer Simpson to distraction (The Lord said to Noah, there’s gonna be a floody, floody…)

Wildfire - Okay, so it’s not rain. But it’s still a doozie of a storm. Hmmm, this one put in an appearance on The Simpsons too, when Lisa played it on the saxophone for her horse, but that didn’t occur to me until just now. This Michael Martin Murphey composition is a spooky tune with a wild sound to it, and given the constant pictures we’re seeing of thousands of animals victimized by Katrina, it is especially appropriate. It’s a reminder of this whole other segment of the population for whom storms have even greater potential to be deadly. There’s despair here, but there’s also a wispy sense of hope in the speaker’s mysterious concluding words. Oh, they say she died one winter / when there came a killing frost, / and the pony she named Wildfire / busted down its stall. / In a blizzard he was lost. This next song perhaps more appropriately belongs in the second half of my review; it doesn’t have much to do with any particular form of weather, but it similarly examines death as a sort of mystical journey, encouraging the listeners not to be fearful of its arrival. Annie Lennox’s vocals are stirring, while the instrumentals and lyrics that give a nod to Tolkien made it the perfect send-off for the Lord of the Rings film series. Hope fades into the world of night, / through shadows fallen out of memory and time. / Don’t say we have come now to the end. / White shores are calling; / you and I will meet again.

I’m saving the best for last. Well, the last of this half anyway. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Wow. Now this is an impressive song, about as stormy as they come. Gordon Lightfoot’s epic tale about the tragic fate of an ore boat that got stuck in the fiercest of maritime storms packs an incredible punch. I saw him in concert five years ago, and this number was absolutely stunning to see and hear. You truly feel that you are in the midst of a perfect storm, with waves crashing all around and wind howling past your ear. Lightfoot pours all of his passion into this one, and the well-crafted lyrics are augmented by the whining of electric guitars and the coordinated flashing of stage lights. This is just a brilliant accomplishment, and it contains one of the most exquisite lines in lyrical history: Does anyone know where the love of God goes / when the waves turn the minutes to hours? I don’t know of any maritime tune that can chill the blood quite like this, but if you’re looking for some good sea shanties, the Irish Rovers are loaded with them. I’ve just recently discovered the Decemberists, and I suspect they might have a few as well.

Comfort

I know I have mentioned a few of these in earlier write-offs, but I can’t help but bring them up again. Songs about wind and rain and other stormy elements might help us empathize with those who are experiencing such things, but for those actually in the midst of all that, probably the last thing they want to hear is a song about inclement weather. More likely, they are seeking comfort, and that is exactly what the songs in the second portion of my list provide. Some are more general songs of hope and inspiration, though most apply especially well to the situation. All are uplifting in one way or another.

My Heart Will Go On - I can’t help it, ships and storms go together in my mind, and while the destruction of the Titantic was due to an iceberg (and a whole lot of human error / arrogance), it seems to fit, and the Celtic overtones are both stirring and soothing. There is immense yearning in this song, but there is also conviction. Many people have lost loved ones in this storm, and like the speaker they want assurance that, as Wesley stated in The Princess Bride, “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.” Near, far, wherever you are / I believe that the heart does go on… Whenever I hear this song, I am reminded of another James Horner tune written for a film. Somewhere Out There is another song of searching, but in this case, the separation is merely one of distance and unknown coordinates. Not to lessen the inherent predicament. According to ABC News, nearly a thousand children were separated from family members in the hurricane and still have not been reunited. The process of matching the missing with one another is arduous, but those who are searching cling to that hope of a reunion. I imagine it’s all that’s keeping some people going. Somewhere out there, if love can see us through, / then we’ll be together, somewhere out there, / out where dreams come true.

Lean on Me - Ever since the severity of Hurricane Katrina became known, people have been assembling their resources, their time and their talent in order to assist the victims in any way possible. Closer to the danger zone, citizens have been helping one another find medical care, food and a way out of the city. Homes across the country have opened up to those who now have no house to return to. Children are selling lemonade to raise money and giving up their toys so the kids who lost everything will have something to play with. I was a story about a couple who traveled hundreds of miles to pick up four pets at a shelter and deliver them to the owners, strangers who were staying another several hundred miles away. Everyone is helping everyone else; it’s inspiring to see how people come together in times of crisis. Few songs capture the energy of this helping spirit as well as Bill Withers’ perennially popular tune. Lean on me / when you’re not strong. / I’ll be your friend. / I’ll help you carry on. Another great song in this vein is You’ve Got a Friend. I always associate this one with James Taylor, but Carole King wrote and recorded it originally. Either version is good, and it carries the same message as Lean on Me in a quieter, more contemplative manner. If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds / and that old north wind should being to blow, / keep your head together and call my name out loud, / and soon I will be knocking upon on your door.

Put Your Hand in the Hand - My grandma is really into this song right now. Ironically, it was the anthem at our church shortly before all this began, but it is a particularly good one to sing during this time. It’s a community song, one that continues to build strength as more and more people join in. There are countless versions of it out there, but this is one that’s probably most helpful if you sing it yourself, clapping along if you’re one of those lucky folks who has rhythm. Whenever I hear this song, I remember an episode of Family Matters in which Grandma Winslow invited Urkel to church, much to the disgust of Rachel, who was the choir director. Urkel couldn’t carry a tune in a bag, but he had more enthusiasm than just about anybody else there, and in the end his sincere spirit brought unity to a fractured choir as they sang this song of encouragement and faith. Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the water, / put your hand in the hand of the man who calmed the sea. / Take a look at yourself and you may look at others differently. / Put your hand in the hand of the man from Galilee. A similar song of faith that is probably better listened to – though joining in the chorus is certainly not frowned upon – is Josh Groban’s You Raise Me Up. Well, it’s not technically his song, I guess, but he popularized it. I first heard of Josh when Clay Aiken was on American Idol and numerous comparisons were made, but I didn’t actually hear him until months later, when he performed this song on Good Morning America in honor of Veteran’s Day. A Wind Beneath My Wings sort of song except that the addressee appears to be of a divine nature. The Celtic-flavored tune, replete with bagpipes, shares its melody (Londonderry Aire) with perhaps that most famous of all Irish songs, Danny Boy, and like Put Your Hand in the Hand, it builds up most impressively by the end. You raise me up so I can stand on mountains. / You raise me up to walk on stormy seas. / I am strong when I am on your shoulders. / You raise me up to more than I can be.

Falling Leaves - Ever since Katrina hit, the news media has been referring to those displaced as refugees, and when I heard that word my first thought was of this, one of John Denver’s most beautiful and reflective songs. His passion for social activism is apparent here as he compares the homeless to endlessly drifting falling leaves and wishes to bless them. When he repeats the first verse, a chorus of children join him in an expression of conviction and hope for the future, and indeed the children have been among the most active in seeking ways to help the victims of this hurricane. Though the song bemoans the fact that homelessness is allowed to exist, it expresses immense gratitude for the gift of life, which all should be able to share equally. This is for the refugees, / the ones without a home. / A boat out on the ocean, / the city streets alone. / Are they not some dear mother’s love? / Are they not you and I? / Are we the ones to bear this shame / and they the sacrifice? You may note that John Denver is over-represented here. It’s just the nature of his musicianship, I guess. An interesting companion to the above song is And So It Goes, which Denver sang but didn’t write. This gentle song notes that all solid possessions and even locations dissipate with time, but love remains forever. Ultimately, what we have is far less important that what we are. Ashes to ashes, dust into dust. / Buildings will crumble, bridges will rust, / mountains will disappear, / rivers will dry up. / So it goes with everything but love.

You’ll Never Walk Alone - When Jerry Lewis sang this inspirational classic from the film Carousel at the conclusion of his telethon this year, it was twice as powerful as usual. Anyone going through a dreadful struggle can take comfort from these words with the soaring accompanying melody. Faith and hope can endure even in the direst of circumstances. When you walk through a storm, / hold your head up high / and don’t be afraid of the dark. / At the end of the storm / is a golden sky / and the sweet silver song of a lark. / Walk on through the wind, / walk on through the rain / though your dreams be tossed and blown. / Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart / and you’ll never walk alone. I must invoke the Beatles at least once before I conclude, and I can think of no more inspirational song to mention than Let It Be. I tend to think of You’ll Never Walk Alone as a song for the individual, but Let It Be is one for the community, its members gaining strength from one another and joining together in the conviction that better times are ahead and someone is looking out for us even though it might not look like it right now. When the night is cloudy, / there is still a light that shines on me. / Shine until tomorrow, let it be. / I wake up to the sound of music. / Mother Mary comes to me, / speaking words of wisdom, / let it be.

Again I’ve saved my favorites for the end. Each of these two is equally powerful, and both rely on the central metaphor of stormy waters. Candle on the Water is possibly my all-time favorite Disney song. Certainly a contender. It’s a love song, though it doesn’t necessarily have to pertain to romance. It can be addressed to anyone about whom the singer cares a great deal; you could even stretch it and say the speaker is God, thereby turning it into a hymn. Helen Reddy does a beautiful job with the gorgeous melody and lyrics, and the scene in Pete’s Dragon is very affecting as she belts out her serenade from the top of her lighthouse overlooking the water that has caused her such distress. Everyone displaced by the hurricane ought to have somebody ought there who would sing this song for them. A cold and friendless tide has found you. / Don’t let the stormy darkness pull you down. / I’ll paint a ray of hope around you, / circling in the air, lighted by a prayer. If you know me at all, you knew this next one was coming. It’s a perfect complement to the song above, offering the strong support of a bridge rather than the glowing guide of a lighthouse. In the end, they amount to about the same thing. I’m pleased as punch that Clay Aiken covered Bridge Over Troubled Water, but my vote always goes to the original, with its masterful orchestration, exquisite vocals and dark undertones that give way to true exultation. You can read the song in many contexts, making it a love song, an ode to friendship (which I think it is first and foremost) or a hymn. But bask in the pairing of Paul Simon’s brilliant songwriting and Art Garfunkel’s celestial vocals, and hope and inspiration cannot help but find their way to you. When you’re down and out, / when you’re on the street, / when evening falls so hard, I will comfort you. / I’ll take your part when darkness comes / and pain is all around. / Like a bridge over troubled water, / I will lay me down.

And that is where I will stop. After 9/11, a long list of songs deemed inappropriate for radio play was composed. I think the idea was rather silly and that some of the choices were almost insulting to the intelligence. “Oh, we can never play a song that mentions an airplane again.” Oddly enough, many of the songs that made it onto the list were just the sort that would be most helpful in a time like this. In fact, at least a couple of the songs on the list above were considered too likely to raise negative emotions. The way I see it, music has the power to heal, and I’ve rarely heard of someone being so moved to despair after hearing a song that it made their situation drastically worse. (Perhaps I’ll make an exception for Dust in the Wind. That song is desolation itself, and it’s about the worst song I can think of to play right now. I notice they’ve switched to only playing the instrumental introduction in those Saturn commercials, and I’m not complaining.) At any rate, I think music is one of our greatest tools for soothing shattered souls, and I suspect it can do far greater good than harm. Share your own songs and leave me a comment so I can link to them below. Right now, the world needs all the music it can get.