Live albums traditionally run the risk of being redundant; most of the time, they’re reserved for hardcore fans who are desperate and illogical enough to shell over twenty bucks for yet another repackaging of the same material, albeit with new album artwork (this is more important than it sounds) and perhaps a free ringtone or locker poster to top things off. Those releases tend to fall in the same category as the obnoxious “deluxe editions”—complete and utter wastes of hard-earned cash dressed up like the definitive fan package. Underoath’s release has a greater draw to it, however, if only because of the accompanying DVD showcasing this rising metalcore band during a live set-list. It’s a full production, an entire night’s worth of these talented young artists’ frenzied brand of artistry, and while it might not be everyone’s particular cup of tea, Survive presents the perfect opportunity to find out if you’re going to be the next fan to jump on the bandwagon.

The opening track, “Returning Empty Handed” (taken, as much of this album is, from Underoath’s most recent effort, Define The Great Line) is actually introduced by the ambient post-rocker “Salmarnir,” a delightful experiment in melancholia made up of distant Icelandic vocals quoting a scripture from Psalms, before exploding in a burst of what can only be described as controlled chaos—a dance between drums and bass, led by Spencer Chamberlain’s desperate shrieks of prayer. It’s this opener that clearly defines what these youngsters are all about, particularly in terms of their “mission statement” or musical approach.

As Chamberlain himself writes much of the material, it is a valid assumption to view his inflections as inspired by the past—particularly a drug addiction that he has recently brought to the public eye in hopes of stopping others from taking that disconcerting path themselves. The lyrics are darkest when they’re intensely psychological, painting pictures of dingy back rooms, leaky faucets, people crawling along the floors, and other poetic indicators of mental distress. This is tough music to swallow, even if one tries to forget the context and get lost in the heavy rhythmic poundings, especially since shafts of light so rarely shine through the midst of the darkness. Luckily, we have Chamberlain and his drummer, the wildly popular Aaron Gillespie (of The Almost) as a tour guide. With Spencer’s guttural wails and Aaron’s gentle calls, Survive, Kaleidoscope becomes a carnival of sorts, a series of showcases both frightening and inspiring.

We’re at the lowest of lows throughout compositions such as “Moving for the Sake of Motion” (an impressively played anthem that dissolves into a hectic, cymbal-driven finale and last call for salvation) and “Everyone Looks So Good from Here” (which is the closest cross between math-rock and hardcore that I’ve seen since The Dillinger Escape Plan first hit my stereo). But that isn’t to say there aren’t emotionally high points. “To Whom It May Concern” and “You’re Ever So Inviting” are two of the more hopeful interludes between all the sufferings.

This project isn’t going to convert new fans from those who’ve already heard Define The Great Line and rejected it, but it’s definitely an inspired album that rearranges familiar material, making it unpredictable and fresh on the ears of both old fans and newcomers alike. Thematically and lyrically speaking, the latest work from Underoath is some of the most versatile and definitely the most powerful rock music making waves in both the Christian and secular markets. These guys, and those who think like them—namely, in terms of presenting harsh realities from biblical perspectives—are the future of Christianity in art. Keep an eye open; they’re going to take over the world.

RATING: 8.5

John Wofford

Originally featured on Soul-Audio.com

North Carolina pop artist Warren Barfield has made quite a splash in the industry with a series of Christian radio successes. His first two albums generated fairly impressive sales figures, and set to cement him as a market staple—the biggest part of his appeal coming from his ability to step in for aging star Stephen Curtis Chapman on the grounds of accessible pop songwriting and guitar-strumming charm. With his third album, Worth Fighting For, he sets out to claim the trophies that have been waiting for him since his inaugural successes.

This album is anything but cerebral—Barfield isn’t the purveyor of profound truths or even thoughtful commentary on biblical fundamentals. With hooks like “Your love is the one thing that I can’t run out of” (a tripe declaration more silly than endearing) and “there’s nothing that you can’t do/when you believe that God believes in you” (which sounds lifted from the scripts of a certain 90s television show about angels), the whole album comes off feathery and irrelevant. Anyone with a crisis of faith or imperative question of doctrine would do best to steer clear of Worth Fighting For or prepare themselves for a load of unanswered questions and hollow disappointments. This is 100% commercial religion, complete with all its “Just believe!” posturing and “Every cloud has a silver lining” conclusiveness.

The most appropriate question would probably be: does it serve as a plausible contender for Top 10 Christian radio? The answer, of course, is yes. All the staples of successful radio fodder are here: acoustic guitar intros, brief breakdowns per each verse, and plenty of “sing-till-your-lungs-give-out” refrains. If anything, Barfield has secured another year on the Christian charts and possibly a nomination or two come next awards season. But it all rings hollow in the face of one grave, unavoidable reality: this album brings nothing new to the table. Its ideas are stale, Barfield’s vocals sound whiny and untrained, and it promises no capacity to impact the harsh realities that comprise our world today.

His vision of the heavens is such a limited one, his convictions are granted no potency. When a stanza on the single greatest idea in all of history—the God of Abraham—is backed by a lazy soundtrack that seems better suited for ruminations on pretty girls and skipping school (a la country music), this reviewer feels anything but awed or worshipful. An undeniably cheap atmosphere pervades the greater portion of this project. Worth Fighting For never once runs the risk of distinguishing itself as even slightly original—it comes off as merchandise masquerading itself as a piece of musical art.

Barfield has succeeded on one front; he has managed to remind us with the greatest of urgencies of Christianity’s need for fresh faces to give these stale inflections new life and shake up what has become so predictable about believers’ art. There will certainly be many who argue that this is a perfectly tolerable album, and immediately write off any claims to the contrary as being excessively harsh. One thing we can all agree on, regardless of whether or not Warren Barfield has managed to force your toes to tap or your hands to clap or your lips to praise: a world where biblical truths can be communicated with beauty and poise is definitely a future worth fighting for.

John Wofford

2/5

Originally featured on JesusFreakHideout.com

In 2003, Washington alt-rock quintet Telecast released their debut album, The Beauty of Simplicity, on BEC Records. It was met with little fanfare, brief airplay, and then forgotten. 2005 brought a line-up change with the once-again largely ignored sophomore effort Eternity Is Now. Most critics seemed to agree, the band held great potential but seemed hung up on employing Coldplay-esque clichés and repetitive song formats. In 2008, Telecast announced that their third album, Quiet Revolution, would drop on April 28, 2008. And that, it seems, would bring us up to date…

Telecast has shaken up their sound remarkably, not insofar as sporting a dizzying new set of production methods or an arrogant, big-budget sound (a la recent worship efforts from Leeland or David Crowder). No, their approach here simply packs as many simple, but effective musical ideas into a four-minute track as possible. Take the album opener, “All Around Me,” a quirky pop anthem with dissonant background vocals that swells with a ¾ piano accompaniment at its bridge, before running pell-mell into a coy, but satisfying conclusion.

What’s more comforting to the ear, though, is how White and crew seem set on never taking the same approach twice. Sticking with what works remains effective only when the techniques are far removed enough to not sound repetitive. From ambient and techno influences on “All That You Are” (which reminds me loosely of Radiohead’s “Everything In Its Right Place”) to folk and blues on “Anchor of My Soul” and “Enclosed by You” respectively, they’ve got so many ideas floating around for 12 tracks that they hardly know where to cram them all.

That’s not to say that they’ve totally opened their arms to the polarizing sounds of so many experimental post-rock artists (although “The Message” briefly dabbles in trippy math rock percussion on its opening verse). No, the pop song craft still rears its often unfairly-derided head track after track after track. And worship music is what this is, through and through. The emphasis though, for once, is more on music than worship. What makes all the difference is White’s careful ear for substance, shaking up a composition’s development the moment it dares to grow tiresome, and lacing each song with minute background details to make further listens far richer than an initial impression.

Speaking of initial impressions, Quiet Revolution comes across almost underwhelming at first listen. Still, the album is so far apart from anything Telecast has ever attempted that one can’t help but be surprised by its end. Only after a couple thorough passes does its quality really make itself known. Simply put, it’s an album you first like, then love.

The only serious downside would be lyricism. Each and every idea conveyed in the album’s whole is quoted almost verbatim from scripture, with the exception of “Enclosed By You,” showing White as he gets in touch with his hymnist muse. Telecast takes basic truths and juxtaposes them with music that’s tailor-made for the ear, a sort of delightful candy that manages to make itself more than just a collection of Christian radio hits through sheer force of sincerity. The only problem this poses is with White himself—when hearing these familiar biblical truths once again, it’s quite easy to forget what an excellent songwriter he is. Make no mistake; he has become (at least, in my esteem) the premier worship leader of this year.

2008 has thirsted desperately for an artist or band to take the forefront of Christian music and challenge our hearts (and more importantly, our minds) with the gospel so many have died for. Well, here it is. Let the Revolution begin.

4.5/5

John Wofford

It’s possible that this is the best released song of their career thus far— an anthem that initially tries the patience instead of going for the jugular with some overblown, full-speed-ahead refrain. Only the release of the album will tell how much of this composition is genius and how much is chance, but I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt if only because “Violet Hill” has been on repeat since I downed it this morning.

They’re derivative of so many other artists who’ve managed to pull off more influential albums; and while “Violet Hill” is anything but industry-shattering, it’s the kind of single indicative of the album we should’ve gotten in place of the over-produced, self important “X & Y.” The biggest achievement (to me, anyway) is that they’ve pulled off a convincing rebirth after 2005 left me with the feeling that they were going to be little more than U2-parodying pop stars. That isn’t to say that this upcoming album is going to be life-changing, but it should prove to be a doe-eyed beauty nonetheless.

4.5/5

Few bands have the lasting appeal of Martin Smith’s brit-rock quintet, particularly in the fickle Christian mainstream. Moreover, few bands associated with Christianity have managed to adapt their sound for a more demanding secular market with as much success. Delirious? have done both with relatively few failures (provided one ignores Audio Lessonover?, an album that tried to be Radiohead, but with half the brains). This year their seventh effort, Kingdom of Comfort, drops with the news that long-time drummer Stew Smith would be leaving to pursue other projects.

Delirious? seem comfortably aware of their talents, using them to occasionally push the limits of their trademark sound (or, rather, of U2’s trademark sound) on tracks like “Give It What You’ve Got,” a fist-pumping, guitar-led rocker somewhat reminiscent of The Killers, and “Eagle Rider,” a simple but effective Native American-tinged ballad. Most predictably, however, they maintain their particular brand of accessible brit-worship in “We Give You Praise” and “All God’s Children.”

Taking that into account, the designated “praise and worship” songs on this album are by far the weakest, if only because the band keeps a straight-ahead approach to moments of reverence. Time is the best teacher, and Delirious? have become veteran performers in their 15 years on stages all around the world. This improvised unpredictability is sometimes lost in the studio, and when synthesizers are lazily mistaken for ambience, reverb distracts from a weak vocal performance and lyrics are repeated ad infinitum (backed up with choir, no less) to serve as worship, what escapes me is why musical experimentation and genuine praise never intermingle. Sure, it might make it hard for an experimental composition to be incorporated into a worship service; still, David Crowder’s admirers seemed to have found ways of adapting his music for public consumption.

All things considered, the album works best when it ditches its plodding, stadium-sized aspirations for tight song writing and strong melodies. “Love Will Find A Way” (regardless of its quaint, off-putting title) displays an unbelievably talented group of grown men making whole-hearted anthems for a younger, more cynical generation, and doing an incredible job of it. The album’s best track (and one of the strongest of their career as well), “Stare the Monster Down” is an iambic rocker that rivals U2’s “Vertigo” in terms of its infectious hook.

Make no mistake, there’s a lot of comfort to be found throughout the course of this album. And while U2 have gotten stuck, it seems, peddling a revamped iteration of their earliest material, complete with shallow, unperceptive lyrics about politics and world peace, Delirious? don’t seem to be taking that route, leaving more room for doubt and soul searching than on previous efforts, and giving the great issues of our day (namely, the problem of third-world poverty and social division) a soundtrack steeped in hope—provided their anthems manage to be as persuasive as they’d like them to be, getting listeners on their feet and making the changes they’re so anxious to sing about.

There’s definitely room for growth in the future. After all they’ve done for the Christian music industry, it’d be a shame for them to take little more than a place as a derivative footnote in the story of Bono Vox and his wide-eyed punk quartet. Still, this purchase is far from a wasted one—if nothing else, leaving their audience ready for that spark of great potential to one day ignite: the day a great band finally become history-makers.

4/5

John Wofford

After a couple months of no activity whatsoever, I’m pleased to annouce the return of AverageJoe!

Coming up are new reviews for Warren Barfield, Telecast, Ashmont Hill, and more. 

Have a great week!  God bless.

After a couple days to let it sink in, P.O.D.’s latest album has finally left me with a feeling of satisfaction.  The first few listens were trying, if only because the melodies are few and far between, the vocals dissonant, and the production values surprisingly sparse.
 
Critical reaction has been mixed, but it’s nothing we haven’t heard before.  Anytime a band with such a vocal fan base shakes up its sound notably, riots happen.  Less “die-hard” fans (such as me) find the new expressions refreshing.  The Christian market is having a fit over the inclusion of the word “damn” in the track “Kaliforn-Eye-A,” but it doesn’t seem to be hurting sales just yet, particularly as the album hasn’t been pulled from conservative outlets so far. 
 
This fusion of metal, jazz, and reggae has never really been touted to the mainstream before, particularly by a band with so much radio-play and “street cred.”  Further analyses are sure to be mixed, but mark my words—this band has stumbled across an inadvertent masterpiece by pushing their sound in new, sometimes uncomfortable ways.

4.5/5

If you haven’t heard of the Belton, Texas, alternative metal band Flyleaf at least once in the past three years, then you’ve definitely been living under a rock. No, make that a bomb shelter. Leaping onto the already crowded metal scene in 2004 with their self-titled EP, Flyleaf barraged listeners with a heavy set of deeply personal tracks, one after another poised for radio domination. Lacey Mosley, the quintet’s front lady, came with her own delicate scars and testimony that resonated with youthful listeners not only here in the states, but in Australia as well, when the band did a brief tour “down under” in promotion of the EP. 

One year later, in ‘05, Flyleaf debuted their phenomenal first release, a hit with both critics and buyers. Since that initial drop, the band’s label has re-released Flyleaf twice: once with slightly different mixes for “Fully Alive” and “All Around Me,” and again with the above changes and five acoustic presentations of the debut’s most popular songs. With ‘08 seeing the album certified Platinum, it’s a wonder Flyleaf’s label haven’t pushed for a quickly released sophomore effort. Thankfully, the band seems content to wait until the time is right, slowly compiling a series of road-tested tracks and releasing an EP to wet the lips of fans thirsting for more. 

Much Like Falling was released October 30, 2007, as an iTunes exclusive download. Big things often come in small packages, and despite a running time of only 11 minutes, this inexpensive download packs a wallop. Opening up with its title track, the bass line in the first 30 seconds displays this fledgling band at their current peak of creativity, not content with embracing an exact replica of what made their debut so sought-after. Metal places an emphasis on bass, and it was an area previously in which Flyleaf failed to meet the challenge-all the bass lines were simplistic, and rarely noticeable. Thankfully, the change has given way to growth in that department. The remainder of the track sports two brilliant hooks, an epic climax, and an abrupt halt that begs for several repeats. Coming in at just over two minutes, one might say that this time around they had me at “Hello.” 

“Supernatural” is an acoustic presentation of a concert favorite, a muse on grace and faith in the face of questioning God’s plan. Perhaps the most spiritually grounded of all their songs to date, it’s also the longest on this Extended Play. Penultimately comes “Tina,” my admitted favorite of all the songs in Flyleaf’s current repertoire. Taken from the life story of a young woman Mosley met while on tour, “Tina” recounts an attempted suicide by gasoline dousing, and the spiritual repercussions of that decision. Not only is the hook here, but it’s also a rare instance when the band seems to have hit a musical wall. They can’t get any heavier, grungier, or edgier without completely shaking up the genre within which they’ve comfortably fit up until this point. It’s a nice dilemma, honestly, because I’m almost positive that other fans will pick up on it, giving Mosley and crew the go-ahead to experiment even further in the future. 

Album closer “Justice and Mercy” is the weak point of the album. Sure, it has Mosley’s fantastic screaming voice alternating in and out of a brisk chorus, but it feels entirely anticlimactic just coming off of “Tina.” It’s a nice reflection on grace and the law, but again, it’s my least favorite on the EP. 

All in all, Flyleaf have proven that the wait for their sophomore release will be well worth it-as they tour in Europe with Korn, testing newly-written songs and growing their fan base, planning a domination of both Christian and secular music outlets all the while.

4/5

Founded in 2000, the Gateway Church has experienced an extraordinary growth in attendance, becoming one of America’s most quickly expanding congregations. Their worship team- simply called Gateway Worship- released their first project in 2006 along with a DVD of that particular live set, called Living For You. Now at the start of ‘08, Gateway Worship hopes to make an impact on the increasingly cluttered praise and worship scene with their sophomore effort, the ambitiously dubbed Wake Up The World.  

Opening with “New Doxology,” the worship team betrays their primary influence right out of the chute: Hillsong Live. What follows is in much of the same vein of contemporary pop worship, leaving a sense of déjà vu when it finally comes to a close. That’s not to say some of it isn’t pretty, but there’s not much to think about below the surface. In a live setting, I’m sure it would be fantastic. But on an iPod or stereo, it grows tedious very quickly.  

The album’s downfall is its simplicity– a reliance on building chord progressions and U2-inspired guitar delays that reveals its lack of creativity. After all, how many other bands have used similar production techniques in an attempt to bring about a sense of “epic” worship? It’s not necessarily a bad formula; it’s just that this release has showed up too late in the game to come across all that inspired.  

Still, though, the truths conveyed in its lyricism aren’t exactly unwelcome. Lines such as “Lord of my laughter/sovereign in sorrow/prince of my praise” (“God of My Days”) certainly have weight; the only problem comes when they’re repeated ad nauseum with little variation, female back-up vocals following up to drive the point home, just in case you didn’t hear it the first twenty times.  

I don’t want to sound harsh. It’s obvious those at the Gateway Church hold worship in high esteem, but they could definitely use a little downtime to figure out their own unique approach. Otherwise, the spiritual truths they seem set so intently on expounding will only wash over their audience in a vague feeling of “been there, done that.” And if that happens, they’ll be hard pressed to wake up the neighborhood, let alone the world.

3/5

In the works are interviews with contemporary southern band The Crabb Revival, electropop/rock band This Machine Is Me, reviews of Here I Come Falling’s “Oh Grave, Where Is Thy Victory?,” preliminary thoughts on a couple up-and-coming bands’ demo releases. 

 Stay tuned for more!