From the basement folk eclecticism of the collective Common Prayer comes a prayer that rings true for me.
Despite being named, perhaps, after the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, Jason Sebastian Russo’s warbling and ramblings are not the stuff of Christian liturgy. Yet, the odd folk gleanings on There is a Mountain’s opening track, “Common Prayer,” comes with its prayers to New York, Poughkeepsie, and Los Angeles, along with a prayer to God (“I pray the lord my bones don’t break”), but it’s the chorus that makes a good prayer for me personally.
I’ve been singing in and out of tune, and it’s always been to you
To me, that’s what it means to worship God—whether I’m in tune musically or not, it’s all to God’s glory. Whether I’m in tune mentally or not, it’s meant to praise the Lord for His grace, love, and mercy. Whether I’m in tune spiritually or not—and I’ll never completely be in tune spiritually due to my sinfulness—still my redeemed soul means to give worship to Jesus.
That’s why “Common Prayer” has been so helpful for my spiritual life recently. Because it’s a reminder that God hears my prayers, receives my worship, and takes me as His child despite the fact that I’m often out of tune.
As a whole, There is a Mountain can be described as alt-folk where different pieces are laid together with the folk. “Hopewell” (the name of Russo’s main band) fits folk together in the way Simple Kid incorporates organic beats. “Marriage Song” features a 60’s psychedelic and country folk. “Us vs. Them” is a “stomp around the house” folk ready to swagger down the street. Then there’s “Sara G” which is like Bob Dylan’s “Sara” except add the “g” for groove. This song really takes off as a country barnstormer. “Everything & More” recalls the Polyphonic Spree.
“Of Saints” takes the Band’s organ, story, laid back jam, and vocal harmonies on the chorus—where a little Roger Waters guitar seems to hang in the air. Spiritually, this is also another high point for the album. Although it might seem backwards to describe a moment of doubt as a high point, but I find it most honest, struggling with whether to believe in eschatological promises.
There is no reason why and it comes as no surprise
That the saints don’t come marching in
But they stroll on by
Saints don’t come marching in
They don’t even try
As we survey our current circumstances, it does seem quite contrary to reality to believe that the saints will come marching in. I know Christians give the impression that we’re so focused on a future hope that we simply “stroll on by” the problems around us. I know when you’re in the midst of turmoil it can seem like there could be no hope that the saints will march into God’s glory for all eternity. I know this, and yet, there’s hope that God really hears our prayers, really does promise to save us from our circumstances, and really will make it so we can march into His presence forever.
“Of Saints” is followed appropriately by the instrumental “You, Aloft,” which seems to awkwardly raise its eyes to the sky, looking for more answers. A reversed piano leads into strings and a calliope-like organ, setting up a strange mediation that closes out with a jazz swing, ghostly piano. That jazz swing will show up again on “Moneyspider.”
“American Sex” is a Simple Kid-like bluesy warning with a soundbite of a section from the Gospels where Jesus declares that His authority comes from the Father in heaven (how this fits with the rest of the song can only be answered by Russo).
I second that