I was flooded with nostalgia last week as Amy Grant’s “Lead Me On” was re-released in a two-disc 20th anniversary edition.
Grant is hardly a larger-than-life stereotypical diva in the vein of Diana Ross or Bette Midler, and yet one of the funny things I’ve discovered since coming out is that I wasn’t the only little gay boy growing up in Fundamentalist Christian America who found some still-kind-of-undefineable oasis in Grant and her music.
In the woefully unhip environment in which I came of age, Grant, believe it or not, gave me something to latch onto. Her music, as evidenced by this anniversary edition and re-issues of her back catalogue Sparrow/EMI released last year, has held up remarkably well.
What hasn’t held up so well is Grant herself, or at least her career. As a long-time fan I found this deluxe edition a treat but listening to it was also a bittersweet experience because it accentuated what I’ve been gradually realizing about the singer over the past 10 years — she’s become a pale shadow of the vibrant artist she used to be, now seemingly content to drift along on half-baked reissues of her classics and a bevy of intermittent specialty projects comprised of sleepy arrangements of hymns and Christmas songs (her seventh, depending on how you count, holiday collection is due later this year — YAWN).
Yes, I realize the music industry, like my profession, is in a free fall down the toilet. Record company employees, like reporters, are dropping like flies.
Easy climate, of course, in which to avoid making music. And yet it’s the true artists, I believe, who soldier on. In a Billboard interview a couple months ago, Dolly Parton said she’d always make albums even if she had to sell them out of the trunk of her car. To me, that’s an artist. I’m not saying Grant isn’t talented — she unquestionably is. But she seems to lack the fire and muse to be inspired to continue to push herself artistically. That’s her prerogative, of course. But it’s tragic, whether we’re talking about Joni Mitchell, Kate Bush, Amy Grant or whomever else you can think of, when a once-vital artist derails into autopilot and, in the case of Grant and her endless reissues, double dipping.
Mitchell and Bush eventually returned with marvelous comeback albums. So far the “Lead Me On” deluxe is the best we have from Grant.
It’s worth picking up, though, for four live cuts taken from the legendary 1989 “Lead Me On Tour,” which was never released on any home video format and for which bootlegs are super rare.
The bonus disc on which they appear accentuates what’s happened to Grant better than anything. She re-records no-frills, snoozy arrangements of three “Lead Me On” tracks then sequences them next to four electrifying renditions from the tour which find Grant tearing it up to a degree she hasn’t — even live — for years. There used to be a little Janis Joplin/Melissa Etheridge in her delivery. She sounds more like Judy Collins these days.
By the time the last of the live tracks ends, you’re ready to scream in disbelief — who was the Sparrow idiot who greenlit the new renditions at the expense of the rest of the vintage live stuff? That the whole concert wasn’t released is a crime of unfathomable proportions. I saw that tour. I know how good it was.
But quibbles notwithstanding, there’s no denying Grant was a great artist once.
I excavated this retrospective review I wrote for “Lead Me On” back in 2001 shortly after CCM Magazine named it the best Christian album of all time. This originally ran in the Journal, a West Virginia daily newspaper I wrote for at the time. Enjoy:
I remember distinctly the first time I heard it. At the time I wasn’t a “street date” kind of music fan so a friend of mine actually got it before I did.
As a cassette of Amy Grant’s then-new “Lead Me On" wafted through the speakers of the car we were in, we looked over the packaging and compared knee-jerk reactions. Only later did I realize this wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction record.
And I even remember a few weeks later when I picked up my own copy on vinyl. All of these experiences remain indelible in my mind and I was reminded of them recently when I heard that a new book called “The 100 Greatest Albums in Christian Music” ranked “Lead Me On” in the top spot. I could hardly argue. The album went on to become, for me, the most compelling album I ever purchased.
Working with a list compiled by nearly three dozen music writers and critics for its 20th anniversary issue, CCM (Contemporary Christian Music) Magazine editors added to that 1998 list, then ranked the selections according to most influential.
For people who’ve followed CCM (the genre, not necessarily the magazine), the news that “Lead Me On” was ranked first comes as no real surprise. As its release date loomed, shipping orders ensured that “Lead Me On” would be RIAA-certified Gold. No Christian album until then had received such pre-release demand. Shortly thereafter the album was also certified Platinum. When award season rolled around, “Lead Me On” was also honored at both the Christian music Dove Awards and at the Grammys.
For Grant, the project was a creative zenith. Though 1991’s “Heart in Motion” outsold “Lead Me On” and made Grant a household name with fun pop fluff like “Baby Baby” and “Good For Me,” it is the earlier record that has withstood the test of time and, like other classic albums, still sounds fresh and undated today.
That said, there are some ironies in putting “Lead Me On” at the top of a list of great Christian albums. Though the parameters and characteristics of Christian music are continually debated and defined, no matter how you cut it, “Lead Me On” isn’t an overtly religious record.
In various interviews over the years, Grant has indicated that she feels making a distinction between gospel music and pop is rather arbitrary. She doesn’t generally approach album making with those kinds of issues in mind and so it’s inevitable that subject matter of all kinds makes it way onto her projects.
And “Lead Me On” is no different. Coming off a 1987 No. 1 pop hit with Peter Cetera (“Next Time I Fall”), Grant did not attempt to use that momentum as a precursor to “Lead Me On.”
What followed was an epic and eloquent album marked by superior songwriting (Grant co-wrote nine of the album’s 12 songs) that ran the full gamut from references to slavery to simple declarations of love.
It is the best representation (so far anyway) of what it is that makes Amy Grant a great artist. Her voice is not technically impressive but has a rich, grainy timbre. She’s hardly ever recorded a bad song, but the “Lead” tracks are the best. They have depth but are not too inaccessible. They are emotional, scathing, reassuring, celebratory, melancholy, passionate and articulate and reward the repeat listener. The realization of the profundity of this work gradually occurs.
(To inspire interest in the then-new compact disc format, two additional tracks, “Wait For the Healing” and “If You Have to Go Away” were included on CD; the vinyl and cassette versions of the album contain only 10 tracks.)
It begins simply enough with two brief, separate shakes of a tambourine after which an unusually transcendent and lushly layered blend of acoustic guitars and percussion form a sonic sunshower. The song, album opener “1974,” is a poetic reminisce of an earlier spiritual commitment, presumably by a younger Grant and her friends.
Like many of the tracks that follow it, “1974” is not an explicit declaration of anything. It’s sort of a gospel song in the style of Monet. Grant has often been criticized for soft-pedaling religious themes but, if anything, it makes her messages more universal and, in some circles, less off-putting.
Elsewhere, on the rustic, acoustic-flavored “Saved By Love,” she distills her vision of Christianity to this: “Nothing I can do/nothing I can say/we’re all just saved by love.”
But not all of the religious elements to the album represent a content, assured approach to faith. On the non-Grant-penned “What About the Love,” after taking a cynical look at nursing homes, corporate America, Wall Street and legalistic preachers, Grant sings, “Something’s wrong in heaven tonight.” With the gutsy delivery and jaded outlook, it’s a side of Grant we had not yet seen. The historical perspective is worth nothing — just a year before “Lead Me On” was released, the country was sent reeling from a series of teleevangelist scandals.
And “Lead Me On” also gave us another first: Grant presented an inward struggle, a dark side that was stark and unflinchingly honest. It’s a side of herself Grant would revisit on 1997’s “Behind the Eyes,” but it’s done more effectively on “Lead Me On.”
On the percussive rocker “Shadows,” Grant admits “there are two of me/one does the right thing/one cannot see,” while the plaintive “Faithless Heart” finds her dealing with adulterous temptations: “Oh faithless heart/you tempt me to the core/but you can’t have a hold on me/so don’t come around anymore.”
Life doesn’t always work out the way one plans and it’s no different for Grant. On “Sure Enough,” she sings “sure enough to never want to be without you/sure enough to stay for good.” Grant was divorced from then-husband Gary Chapman in 2000, but the song holds up for two reasons.
For one, we can assume she was sincere when she recorded it. Secondly, as Grant has said before, her songs are not meant to shine a spotlight of scrutiny on her own life but rather to capture a feeling or moment that might have universal significance.
There are lighter moments too. The Jimmy Webb-penned “If These Walls Could Speak,” a piano-and-strings ballad, is poignant nad simple while “If You Have to Go Away,” a country-flavored song, is an optimistic goodbye that sounds like it applies more to a college student leaving home than a romantic relationship ending.
Along with 1985’s “Unguarded,” “Lead Me On,” while earthy and contemplative, finds Grant at her most rock and roll. To some, who only know the singer by her pop hits, to mention Grant and rock in the same sentence may seem odd, but “Lead Me On” has several up-tempo, electric guitar-fueled rock songs.
From the anthemic title track to the searing electric guitar solo that closes “Wait For the Healing,” to the drum solo that opens “All Right” and the passionate vocals Grant incorporates on “What About the Love” and “Shadows,” “Lead Me On” is full of tastefully executed, yet passionately delivered rock.
Subsequently the contrasting quieter moments resonate. “Say Once More” (not the same song Grant recorded on 1980’s “Never Alone”) is a tender ode to love that, like much of the album, transcends the sum of its parts. Ostensibly little more than a simple declaration of love, a tender melody and overlapping vocals give it a bittersweet, fleeting urgency.
These elements combine to make “Lead Me On” a masterpiece of album making. Terms like CCM and Christian rock have such alienating connotations that it’s really best to forget all that and enjoy “Lead Me On” for what it is — a record abut life from a woman who believes there’s a God.
Legions of “secular” singers, from Bob Dylan to U2 to Aretha Franklin to Dolly Parton (and dozens of others) have let their faith infiltrate their recorded work. It’s only natural that a songwriter’s personal feelings will affect the work.Grant’s early ’90 radio success is a bit of a shame because now people only think of bubblegum when her name is mentioned.
Smart, yet accessible, “Lead Me On” has been widely recognized as Christian music’s finest moment. It deserves a wider appreciation as it could easily stand beside U2’s “The Joshua Tree,” Bob Dylan’s “Blood on the Tracks,” Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” and dozens of other as one of the great pop/rock albums ever made.
We've been informed by some readers that "McCain for President" ads have been popping up on our site for a while now. Below is a screen shot.
That ad appeared on our site through Google Ads, but the McCain campaign did not pay to advertise specifically on the Blade's site. The ad program enables online publishers to sell unused inventory via Google. The McCain campaign didn't return a call seeking comment.
I wonder how long it will take the McCain campaign to yank those ads from our gay site. Stay tuned...
Everyone has picked up on this story today: Tyson Gay, a sprinter from the U.S., won his semifinal for the 100 meters during the Olympic trials. One News Now, a news site for fans of the American Family Association, credits the Associated Press for penning most of the stories on the site's wire. However, they take some journalistic liberties when the stories relate to the gay community.
Good As You is probably the biggest watchdog of AFA's penchant for substituting "homosexual" for "gay," among other words. "Same-sex marriage opponents" gets turned into "advocates of traditional marriage," for instance.
One News Now got its turn in the mainstream media spotlight today, though, for a blip in its software. Tyson Gay's last name is actually "Gay." But all references to Mr. Gay read "Tyson Homosexual." Apparently, the glitch has been fixed.
Definitely pick up the Onion's special "Gay Pride Issue," the tongue-in-cheek joke paper's June 26 edition. It's still on newstands in Washington until a new issue comes out Thursday.
It was the funniest issue I've seen since the parody paper started distributing in D.C. last year. For me, the laughs started with the front page headline: "Homosexuals — We let them know how gay proud of them we are."
One of my slight disappointments since starting at the Blade was discovering how damn seriously gay activists take themselves. From bristling at the word homosexual (we are what we are!) to making inclusion an alphabet soup of ridiculousness (LGBTQQIA), many gays could stand to deflate their own pompousness a notch or two and this week's Onion is a good starting point. Don't get me wrong — I realize it's a natural reaction to swing toward the earnest side when society hasn't been taking us seriously for most of the time humans have populated earth. And yet the Onion's Pride issue absurdities were a nice counter to that trend.
Especially clever were the news briefs "Anti-homosexuality sermon suspiciously well informed," "Catholic Church condemns metrosexuality" and "Area man has sex with man to get out of office blood drive."
Most weeks I'm lucky if the Onion makes me elicit a guffaw — the headlines are usually plenty for me. I find the stories tedious one-trick ponies that aren't worth the time. But the Pride edition was a glorious exception. Poking fun at minority groups can be dicey — the Onion pulled it off beautifully. I'm keeping a copy for posterity.
True to form, the crazies at Westboro Baptist Church have faxed a press release (why bother saving trees when the earth will be destroyed in an apocaplyptic blood bath, right?) saying that Kermit Love, whom I blogged about last Friday, is for sure in hell.
The church will be picketing his funeral, which is another example of something I think regularly about fundamentalist nut jobs - "Go work in a soup kitchen!" People don't eat in this country, and you're worrying about some guy going down on another guy? Or a lady enjoying the sensual pleasures of another lady? Honestly.
The craziest part of the press release comes toward the end:
"I have no hesitancy in declaring that all you living fags who live in fag sins and die in fag sins — will ultimately and inevtiably join Kermit Love in Hell — there to be tormented by the Lord Jesus Christ and his holy angels and people, personally for ever and ever."
Now, I'm good and screwed according to the fundies because I'm gay and a witch, but it's my understanding that Jesus doesn't go about burning sinners with bubbling pitch or sending his faceless homonculi to disembowl the wicked in perdition.
If I'm not mistaken, much of the message was about loving your neighbor as yourself, taking the beam from your own eye and not casting the first stone. I'd be really surprised if the man who hung out with fallen women and lepers did a 180 in the afterlife and became the posterboy for horror and despair.
Regardless of what I think about Jesus' divine parentage, I do believe that his message was one of peace in a world overrun by madness, and his lessons are still relevant in today's culture where instead of doing good works for those in need, so-called holy men spend their time damning a man who created a big yellow puppet named Big Bird.
I came to San Francisco for the Gay Pride festivities, and thought nothing of the cloudy haze over the city that was visible as we landed--I presumed it was the trademark fog. But stepping off the plane, my eyes felt like they were shriveling in their sockets--that haze is actually smoke from the wildfires all around the state, trapped over the SF penninsula and just hanging in the air. Gross.
To put it in perspective, if you're familiar with San Francisco: my friend's house on 22nd and Castro is on top of the hill, and the view normally spans across the valley. Today we can barely see Bernal Heights, which is the hill right next to us.
Yesterday the smell was thick with burning cedar; at this point it has either dissapated, or I'm just used to it, so that's better. But inside or outside, everyone's eyes are still on fire, and my friends and I are passing around the Visine like it's the elixir of life.
Tomorrow is supposed to be the Pride Run, but I question if people will want to go jogging in this mess.
Craig and Vitter - the best sponsors you could get?
Sens. Larry Craig and David Vitter have co-sponsored the re-introduced Marriage Protection Amendment, according to a report from PageOneQ. If the bill makes it through, it would amend the U.S. Constitution to say that marriage is only between a man and a woman.
"With a Democratic
controlled Congress it is unlikely the bill will be brought up for a
vote in either the Senate or House of Representatives," PageOneQ says.
Sure, there's nothing to really worry about as far as the outcome of this measure, which has been around since 2000. But really?
Really David Vitter? You are a known client of the late D.C. Madam. You slapped your wife, Wendy Baldwin Vitter, in the face by flushing your "sacred union" down the toilet.
And Larry Craig - is this your way of trying to prove to the country that you're not gay? We're not buying it.
I'm of an age where "Sesame Street" was my childhood delight. I watched it all the time and couldn't wait for Barkley, the big, friendly dog, to run down the hill in the opening sequence with all the kids skipping along behind him.
My mother (who is an avid New York Times reader) sent me an obituary for Kermit Love, a costumer of ballet who also created "Sesame Street's" Big Bird and Mr. Snuffleupagus.
Turns out that Love was gay and had been with his partner, Christopher Lyall, for 50 years.
I couldn't help but think of all the fundamentalist whackjobs and how they are terrified of us taking over the airwaves and seducing children into our decadent lifestyles. I bet they never thought that Big Bird and Snuffy would be the insidious avatars of our new world order.
The obit recounts wonderful stories of Love taking Big Bird on an airplane to Beijing shortly after Nixon's visit to China and Big Bird's appearance at a White House Easter Egg Roll.
Love's creation is just another example of the meaningful ways that queer people have affected the lives of countless children. Through our (what I believe can be a downright mystical) connection to the creative arts, we've brought delight and the wonder of artistic expression to countless children, serving to inspire, educate and remind kids that the world isn't all mathematics and standardized tests.
Today I received a disturbing press release from JL King, who got his moment of fame on Oprah's show when he discussed his down low lifestyle (and his book "On the Down Low").
His newest work apparently is a DVD, "The Top 10 Signs of Down-Low Behavior…and More." His press release states, "After watching only 10 minutes you will have received your money's worth. It is SHOCKING!!!!" (Caps and overuse of exclamation points courtesy of the release.)
The red flags on this release went up early and started waving frantically by the time I got to this segment:
"It's one ASTOUNDING story after another. See the frustration of women as they share their inner most feelings about the DL and it's [sic] impact on their lives. Yes, this Down Low 'monster' is far more vicious than you've heard."
Now, I haven't seen the DVD, but I do have some definite concerns about the press release, which only capitalizes on a sensationalist and victimization (on the part of the women betrayed) tone pertaining to the entire down low experience.
It's been more than once since my tenure here at the Blade that I've come across books, plays, TV shows, etc., about the down low that have either been written by an understandably angry and broken-hearted black woman or a self-hating black gay man. These pieces usually place the blame squarely on the shoulders of the closeted man, further fueling the perception of gay people as morally bankrupt individuals.
What about living in a culture whose every supposedly moral guidepost denies your right to express love and affection for people of your choice (or biological programming, depending on where you fall on that debate)? Government, family, church, community, etc., all frequently work directly against us at worst and often only tacitly tolerate us at best.
Add to that the plague of racism that still permeates American culture, and the pressures are enormous. When African Americans (and I use both "African American" and "black" in this post intentionally, because I know some people prefer one term and some the other) struggle with a racist over culture on a daily basis, where do they turn for support? Their home communities. When their connection to a home community is threatened because of sexual orientation, when homophobia is shouted from the pulpits, when the pressure to be a strong, upstanding black family man, can you really be surprised when lies and deceit are part of the fabric of a same-gender-loving person's life?
This is not to say that I don't have compassion for the women who get the shit end of the stick in this deal. No, those men shouldn't have walked down the aisle and made those vows, had those children, established that emotional life together, shared bank accounts, etc., if they knew in advance that their propensity for man-on-man love wasn't going to go away. Yes, these women have every right to feel and express their rage and deep pain over giving their hearts and bodies to men who were sneaking behind their backs and betraying monogamous vows.
However, it's just never that simple.
Any queer person can tell you that living in the closet makes people do crazy things. It distorts judgment (just ask Mark Foley, Larry Craig, or any other Republicans talking "family values" out of one side of their mouths and cruising boys with the other) and twists perceptions.
To lay the blame for the down low at the feet of either party is a myopic answer to the problem. Black straight America needs to look at its relationship to its GLBT, SGL brothers and sisters in an open, honest and clear way before it condemns these people for living the only way they think they can.
And African-American GLBT, SGL America needs to continue to find ways to address these issues in a manner that is confrontational and constructive. (A great many are already doing this. However, self-hatred needs to be rooted out before trumpeting the experience to national media. That's not doing anyone any favors.)
These conversations will most likely continue to be wrenching and painful, but cleaning out a wound always is. And it's usually the only path to long term healing.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said today that there is a 'troubling' rise in HIV among young gay men. Tomorrow is National HIV Testing Day, and event sponsored by the National Association of People With AIDS.
The day started in 1995, and every year on June 27, organizations across the country come together to encourage the treatment and testing of HIV.
The CDC estimates that 250,000 of the one million people
living with HIV/AIDS in the United States are unaware of their status.
This year marks my 20th year from graduating from Tullahoma High School and, boy, does that make me feel old. I’ve got gray hairs, more wrinkles and a not so trim figure to show for the past two decades since I crossed the stage set up on the football field to get my diploma.
The enterprising class leaders of yesteryear are still quite enterprising and are planning a big reunion in Tullahoma, Tenn., where there will be a golf tourney and a fancy party as well as time on Friday night to watch the Tullahoma Wildcats football team square off against the archrival Coffee County Red Raiders in the big rivalry for the Coffee Pot. It’s a trophy.
And as I reconnect with many classmates from the reunion website the class leaders set up as well as through Facebook and Myspace, I realize I’m having to come out all over again. I’m facing my past, one “friend” at a time.
When I heard this week from an old classmate and volleyball teammate, JA, that she wants to have a reunion volleyball match during the weekend celebration this September, I responded I don’t play the sport anymore.
JA writes back saying she could NOT believe I don’t play volleyball anymore. She also mentions she visited the website I have listed on the reunion website with my picture.
“I just checked out your newspaper … Wow that was a shock... Not the newspaper for me... What column do you edit on there?” she asks.
Oh, Lord, I think, and roll my eyes at the computer screen. Not for her? I know what this means, but I decide to ask her directly. “What’s not for you?” I write back.
“I didn't know it was a gay and lesbian paper... That's all... See you at the reunion if you are coming,” she answers.
“Yep, I’m gay,” I write back, using the same words of the world’s most famous lesbian.
Honestly, I still haven’t decided if I am going to the reunion because, you know, high school sucked for some of us. I know I had good times, especially playing softball and volleyball, but I recently had a dream where I was back in the halls of THS and the sense of dread and intimidation I felt was overwhelming, seeping into my waking life for the next couple of days.
But really now, I tell myself, I’m a grown woman, at least according to age. Surely I can face the people I went to high school with and not feel like I don’t belong. As long as I’m comfortable with who I am, then everything else is easy, right? If it really was just that easy.
I will say JA is the exception, so far, to the THS Class of ’88. Everyone else who I’ve been in contact with who learned I’m gay has been actually quite cool. Thanks. It really does mean a lot to be accepted for who I am — by myself and my high school classmates — 20 years later.
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