But
recently, I've come to respect the Orthodox tradition, to
see that it offers a side of worship that Evangelicals
don't. The "modern" approach states that you can
come to church, plop right down, and immediately enter
into holy communion. There's usually some token statement
about leaving your concerns at the door, about giving them
to God upon entering the Church, but precious little
application. But, as Philip Yancey puts it, Orthodoxy
seems to imply that "you do not approach the Other as
you would your own kind." The ritual helps you move
"from a spirit of urgency and immediacy... to a place
whose rhythms [are] the rhythms of eternity".
I suspect that Jesse Eubanks had that concept in mind
while recording "Meditation, Contemplation, And
Prayer". Considering the album's worshipful,
devotional leanings, it feels quite liturgical, albeit a
liturgy of drones and feedback. Musically, Eubanks treads
the same territory as Charity Empressa, especially with
his forays into ethnic percussion and the like. While I
confess that Charity Empressa's music strikes me as richer
and more satisfying on a sonic level, Eubanks' efforts
result in a far more intimate recording.
Unlike 99% of the worship CDs (which, for all intents and
purposes, are watered down love songs), there is no pop
appeal, no production sheen. When Eubanks' quietly sings
"I come to You/Broken and bruised/Wanting to be made
new" against an ominous wall of pulsing guitar, the
contrast has far more impact than most of the songs I hear
on Sunday mornings these days. While some may find it hard
to believe that music as formless as drone and psychedelia
can have any sort of emotional affect apart from
hallucinagenics, Eubanks' emphasis on haunting
atmospherics hints at those "rhythms of
eternity" that Yancey mentions.
The sparse, reverbed guitar notes of "Matthew
11:28" are lovely enough, but it's the steady
background hum (glacial enough to set the surrounding
world in slow motion) that helps the song relate to its
scriptural reference. "Obscurity", fittingly
enough, takes a more ominous note than the preceding
tracks. Similar in tone to Soul Whirling Somewhere's
"Eating The Sea", the slowly spiralling synths
drip with sadness and regret, while darker, deeper drones
threaten to envelope them.
Olga-Maria Cruz' middle-eastern vocals paint
"Consolation" with a more alien air, one that
imagines ancient lines of pilgrims solemnly marching
through sun-baked deserts and hazy mirages. Accompanying
the vocals is Eubanks' minimal e-bow work, and at any
moment, you expect Dead Can Dance's rhythms (a la
"Into The Labyrinth") to spring to life.
For the most part, the album maintains a consistent mood,
best suited for more contemplative moments. As such, it
sometimes barely registers, but stays quite comfortably in
the background. But the mood does get broken in some
places. The lyrics and vocals on "Nothing Can
Separate Us", as plaintive and inspiring as they are,
are a bit abrupt in their appearance, especially since
they follow the exotic "Consolation". It doesn't
help that some of the lyrics also flow a bit awkwardly
within the music's context. And the solemn cello on
"A Certain Place Of The Soul" feels very awkward
when run against the recording of an old timey fire and
brimstone sermon. On nearly any other song, it would fit
in quite beautifully, but here, the contrast is a bit too
great.
The album ends on a gorgeous note, with the swirling
organwork and muted slide guitar of "Even To The End
Of The Age". The tone here is one of peace and
fulfillment, or possibly the light after a long dark night
of the soul. From a drone standpoint, Eubanks never
ventures to the extremes that Flying Saucer Attack do, nor
is the sound as rough and lo-fi as early AMP. Again, the
best comparison might be Charity Empressa. And though
Eubanks never quite hits the same amount of sonic depth,
his muted approach may lend itself better to more
contemplative activities.
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