I've seen more than a few of these religious type albums in the crates along the way, but I've pretty much stayed away from them until now. And that's largely because in not having much in the way of a single religious bone in my body, to buy and review one would be a task as thankless as asking me to review a Hugh Grant film; I know I'm not going to be into it before we even start. I've broken my own unofficial rule on this one though for a number of reasons.
That cover for one - to these eyes that central totem pole of faces looks like Joni Mitchell on top of Jimi Hendrix on top of Little Jimmy Osmond, and the cynic in me wondered if this was a deliberate but clueless move to look 'hip' and widen the potential audience catchment. Whether that's true or just my bad mind I guess we'll never know, but the back cover also tells me that Barry ('Eve Of Destruction', 'Three Wheels On My Wagon') McGuire has a guest spot too, and that's got to be worth a pound of anyone's money.
In listening to it, one thing that surprised is that although I've found out that Jimmy and Carol Owens are American, the first sound you hear is a music free narration by a very British voice (one Paul Harris). But then the surprise quickly gives way to a weary resignation as Harris drones on and on about (as you'd expect) God, Jesus, faith, everlasting life and the rest of it with the straight faced sincerity of a consultant relaying a terminal cancer diagnosis. If I had a pound for every time he mentions 'sin' (other people's mind, not his) then I might have a sum that would make it worth my while to listen to him, but in truth as a sometime gospel fan I'm really just waiting for the singing to start.
Because I always think gospel music is mighty fine when there's a bit of fire about it with and some life and vitality in the praising, but I can tell you that none of the songs on this record are traditional gospel tunes; they're all Jimmy and Carol Owens originals. That needn't be a headshot in itself, and in all honesty the pair know how to write a pleasant tune, but these are just the conduits for the underlying no nonsense 'message' they want to convey, and the song titles themselves give a good insight into what that message is. 'Father, We Thank You', 'Lord, Achieve Your Holy Purpose', 'Behold The Man', 'Thank You Lord', 'Turn To The Lord', and so on. And on. These are less 'songs' per se and more like essays for the converted. Both they and Harris' narration assume a high level of 'buy in' before we even start; this is aimed squarely at the converted for whom Christianity is a way of life and as natural as breathing.
OK, criticising a Christian for praising God is much like criticising a dog for barking - after all, it's what they do. But on the other hand, you can criticise a dog for barking when they do it relentlessly, hour after hour after hour with no let up. Eventually you're going to snap and yell at them to shut the %$*@ up, and that's exactly what this record made me feel like saying long before I'd come to the end of side two. For a non believer like me, listening to it is like stumbling into an advanced Japanese class when (1) I'd be more suited to the beginners module and (2) I wasn't that keen on learning Japanese in the first place.
That's not necessarily the fault of the record's, but there's a certain smug, self satisfied and dead-eyedness to this that's unappealing in the extreme. Even that Barry McGuire cameo does nothing to raise either the tone or my spirits. In fact, it all makes me feel like I'm eavesdropping on some covert meeting in an abandoned building, fearful that any moment one of the congregation is going to spot me lurking in the shadows and drag me to an altar where I'll be sacrificed to silence my tongue.
Subservient rather than joyful, resigned rather than evangelical and shot through with a polite and dull conformity straight out of The Stepford Wives, there's nothing here to convince me that I've taken the wrong road in life and that aim of 'intercession' has fallen on stony ground I'm afraid; this record isn't for me. Then again, neither are hang gliding, bog snorkelling or pot holing. Some people might get something out of them, but the inherent danger and discomfort of them puts me right off. Unfortunately, it's the sheer, joyless tedium of it all that puts me off 'If My People'.
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