Back in 1998 when Wes Cunningham released 12 Ways to Win People to Your Way of Thinking, he sang a sad little song called “Magazines” about what happens to a fashion model when no one wants her face on magazine covers any longer. Juxtaposed with the blistering, guy-dream of dating a hot woman, “America the Beautiful,” “Magazines” is an incredibly insightful piece of songwriting about the vacuous nature of good looks and how fleeting sexual attraction can be. People can be quickly chewed up and then cast out.
In his own way, Wes Cunningham was chewed up and cast out. On the verge of success with 12 Ways, the label would later shelve another album as if no one wanted his face on CD covers anymore. The industry—and his own demons—had done their job on this singer-songwriter-in-rock-band-clothes, so that he was broken, moved back to Texas, and went inside himself to find renewal. He stepped away from music and sought the help he needed, all while focusing on his new family.
Now Cunningham is emerging again, writing and recording music his own way, having found renewal not only in himself but also from something greater than himself. And his music shows this transformation.
Stripped back, without the pyro techniques of the predominate electric guitar flairs on 12 Ways, Cunningham reveals his singer-songwriter core. The songs are largely acoustic, accompanied by just a couple of friends and overdubs. The songs gently ease you back into the world of Wes Cunningham, a world that is vastly different even as it still has room for his acerbic wit.
Cunningham’s two collections, When We Were Young and Farewell Party, appear on Bandcamp. When We Were Young includes the painfully self-aware “Singer/Songwriter” which throws out little barbs at the homegrown musicians who fashion themselves to be singer-songwriters because they write songs in their bedrooms, record on an afternoon, and sing about “feelings, the world as it appears to me.” Cunningham may be recording at home, launching his new start in a DIY way, and sing about “feelings,” but there should be no doubt that he’s legitimately a songwriter. May he never question his ability to craft a song, turn a phrase, and deliver the listener to someplace sublime.
Of the songs on these collections, When We Were Young’s opening track, “Gift,” stands out most. A restrained, passionate, simple poem, it shows Cunningham’s new appreciation for life and what he has. Having come through the fire, now Cunningham can thank God for the gifts that he has. I have made connections between his music and Jesus in the past, and here is another clear opportunity to see God at work in Cunningham’s art. In fact, jumping ahead to November, “Gift” would make a great text for a Thanksgiving sermon—calling on God’s people to see that “this hope, this life, this dream, to be alive/It’s all a gift from you.”
If I may be so bold, then, I thank God for the gift of Wes Cunningham. The music is a gift to all who hear it. Cunningham may not point all of this towards God, but I see something spiritual at work in this singer-songwriter, something that hopefully will never be chewed up and cast out again.
