The Trumpet Child, Over the Rhine
“When it comes to wanting what’s real,
There’s no such thing as greed.”
So sings Karin Bergquist in the first track of Over the Rhine’s 2007 CD, The Trumpet Child. She sings it in a voice so sultry it makes me blush a little just listening to her.
The Trumpet Child is about desire, about longing. The title track is about the Second Coming, that event for which the whole creation waits with longing and desire. I’m trying to resist the temptation to quote the lyrics to the whole song here, but I hope you’ll at least indulge me in a long quotation:
The Trumpet Child will banquet here
Until the lost are truly found…The rich forget about their gold,
The meek and mild are strangely bold.
A lion lies beside a lamb
And licks a murderer’s outstretched hand.The Trumpet Child will lift a glass,
His Bride now leaning in at last.
His final aim–to fill with joy
The earth that man all but destroyed.
That last, Chestertonian idea–that joy rather than judgment is the ultimate aim of Judgment Day–helped me make sense of the whole album. The rest of the songs on the CD concern themselves with desires and longings that are very much of this world rather than the next. The most persistent theme is sexual desire, usually unrequited.
The desire for joy and the desire for pleasure aren’t the same thing; Bergquist and her husband Linford Detweiler (they wrote all the songs on the album) never conflate the two. But they do acknowledge that there is a place where genuine joy and earthly pleasure overlap. In groping around for that place, they’re willing to get it wrong; instead of saying, “Here’s what earthly desire ought to be like,” they seem to be saying, “Here’s what earthly desire is like…now what does that tell us about our truest desires?”
When it comes to wanting what’s real, there’s no such thing as greed. But the truth is, we want a lot that isn’t real, and Detweiler and Bergquist are willing to wrestle around with that too. So in the song “Trouble,” we get the lyric,
If you came to make trouble,
Make me a double, Honey,
I think it’s good.
Or in “Who’m I Kidding but Me,”
You smell like sweet magnolias
And Pentecostal residue
I’d like to get to know ya
And shake the holy fire right out of you,
But oh, who’m I kiddin’ but me.
But then there’s “Let’s Spend the Day in Bed,” a sweet, quiet song about–well, staying in bed all day. It’s a picture of marital bliss that is more than a metaphor for the abundant life. The point, it seems to me, is that this is the abundant life that Jesus promised–or, rather, a little sliver of it. Obviously there’s more to the abundant life than earthly happiness. But where and how and why they’re connected–those are questions worth exploring.
In Detweiler’s lyrics, the trumpet that will blow on the last day
Is being fashioned out of fire.
The mouthpiece is a glowing coal,
The bell a burst of wild desire.
I love that image. We’re each of us a swirl of desires, some noble, some petty, some seedy. This CD explores many of those desires, including the seedy. But poised above them all is that fiery trumpet. And when it blows, we won’t be relieved of desire, but swept up in a greater, wilder desire. The glowing coal will burn away the false desires and leave the true, and the Trumpet Child will fill the universe with the joy that was the point all along.
p.s. It occurs to me that this isn’t really a music review. I guess it’s a poetry review. I’ll rely on the Rabbit Room’s more musically sophisticated readers and contributors to address the music itself, which is pretty fabulous.
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
Over the Rhine is and has long been one of those groups that creates an atmosphere with their music– one that really takes you places, I think.
I love the older stuff, and haven’t really kept up. “All I Need is Everything” from Good Dog Bad Dog, 1996, is one of those songs that creeps into my mind and becomes one of those songs that gets stuck in my head for entire days at a time (as I’m sure it will now that I’ve named it again.) This should be good to get my hands on. Thanks Jonathan.
I had a couple of dollars left on an iTunes gift card on Sun, and so I was roaming around the store looking for a CD that I didn’t want to buy the whole thing but liked a couple of the songs. And I happened to stumble across The Trumpet Child, and after listening to the clips of all the tracks to figure out which of them I wanted, I bought the whole CD. I absolutely love it.
I’m with Russ — the Good Dog/Bad Dog songs can stay in your head for hours, but in a good way. Sounds as if it’s time to add some new OTR to the mix. Love that first line.
Yeah this record has changed the way I hear music in many ways. I would love to know more about the song Don’t Wait For Tom. Not only is it unmercifully groovy, but it seems to play a trick on me, because it has a definite Tom Waitsish feel to it. And the song is called Don’t Wait For Tom. Hmm.
I was unfamiliar with OTR until I saw them tour for this record this past summer. I was only at the show because a friend of mine was in the opening band. Since the show was an hour away and we had work the next day, we only planned to stay for a few songs. However, as soon as they began, we were entranced. They mostly played from this album and it was truly incredible. They are truly incredible. I’ve been listening to the record almost constantly since then and continue to find more and more to love about it. Don’t Wait for Tom is a favorite, but it’s pretty hard to pick. It’s refreshing and inspiring to find a such a stellar combination of musicianship and depth of lyric. I’m thrilled you included it in your reviews!
Tony,
I recently saw OTR live and at the show Linford Detweiler actually said that he wrote “Dont Wait For Tom” following a tom Waits show: it is indeed about Waits, and is as much a tribute to his genius as anything.
The Whole album seems to be in tribute to various artists, particularly uniquely American artists, from years or eras past.
I definitely want to check this CD out. I’ve never heard OTR before, but the description you have given sounds awesome. It seems so easy to be distracted by lesser desires when Jesus is offering us so much more as He fulfills us. One of the coolest things, I think, is when art, such as music like this, stirs up our desire and imagination of how far Jesus extends beyond what we can imagine.
While I love OTR, I highly recommend their previous studio album, Drunkard’s Prayer. It is one of the most beautiful, honest albums I have ever heard… and I kind of fall in love with Karen every time I hear her sing. Dont tell Linford.
[...] Rogers from our favorite corner of the Internet Pub, The Rabbit Room, writes a killer review of one of the years best records: Over The Rhine’s The Trumpet Child. [...]
David,
Thank you for that. It was driving me nuts. Because it seemed that they were completely describing Mr. Waits. He is a genius and the song is a fitting tribute. Thanks for clearing it up for me! It all makes sense now.
Detweiler wrote a piece for Paste magazine about the genesis of The Trumpet Child: http://www.pastemagazine.com/action/article/5823/feature/music/only_in_america_the_trumpet_child
Great article, Laura. Thanks for bringing that to our attention. The Trumpet Child really is like a little crash course on what’s great about American music.
I have mixed feelings about this review - so happy it’s here, disappointed that I didn’t write about it first! This was an album in my queue for the rabbit room, but to be honest, I’m happier that you wrote about it - it was an unexpected pleasure to find another contributor in the rabbit room who loves OTR as much as I do. I would have to name them as my favorite band of the last 6 years.
For the uninitiated, there’s a story at work here, and I think a good place to start is with their album “Ohio” (which for my money is still my favorite OTR record). It’s a sweeping double record with consistently GREAT songs - lyrically, melodically, musically. It gained them a lot of new fans, exposure, and a rigorous touring schedule that almost destroyed their marriage. They cancelled the tour mid-way through to go home and see if they could piece their marriage back together.
The story goes that they sat at home at their table and drank a bottle of wine each night as they talked through their junk. Their marriage was saved and out of it came the intimate “Drunkard’s Prayer” which fights hard to unseat “Ohio” as my favorite OTR record. Here’s a lyric I’ve always loved from that record that to me sums up the theme:
“I was born to love, I’m gonna learn to love
Through my fears
I was born to laugh, I’ll learn to laugh
Through my tears”
Their next record (aside from a great Christmas record I hope to review later) was “The Trumpet Child”. If “Drunkard’s Prayer” was about working through marital conflict, then “Trumpet Child” to me is the second honeymoon. It is a celebration of music, eros, and of course the ultimate desires of our longing for Christ, and His longing for His bride.
It is one of the most wholesomely sexy albums I own - Karin’s voice… well… let’s just say I’m breaking a sweat thinking about it ;-).
It lacks some of the brooding introspection that I’m usually drawn to in OTR’s music (that is abundant in both “Ohio” and “Drunkard’s Prayer”), but I think that’s a part of what makes this record so good - it’s unashamedly exuberant and sonically is a brighter affair with a fully realized production value as opposed to the stripped down feel of previous records. It’s less rootsy this time around and more boisterous.
The line I keep coming back to is the opening lyric:
“I don’t want to waste your time with music you don’t need
Why should I autograph the book that you won’t even read
I’ve got a different scar for every song and blood left still to bleed
And I don’t want to waste your time with music you don’t need
I don’t want to waste good wine if you won’t stick around…
I won’t pray this prayer with you unless we both kneel down…”
Not only is “The Trumpet Child” a celebration of all that we’ve mentioned here, but to me it also seems like a refresher course on how to be a good music listener, what it means to really engage music and treat it less like a disposable commodity and more like the precious magic that it is. Or to borrow from OTR, to learn how to savor it like a good wine.
I knew I could count on the more sophisticated listeners in the Rabbit Room to pick me up. I’m filing away the phrase “fully realized production value” in case I ever write another music review. Thanks for the great insights, Jason et al.
Absolutely, the Trumpet Child is fantastic. I’ve been a big fan of OtR for a long time since Good Dog, Bad Dog, but I agree that Ohio is their best. This album is a bit too whimsical for my tastes as I prefer the headier, heavier fare, but obviously Karen and Linford are blessed to perform anything well and this album is still great.
This album is outstanding. Jason, I was surprised that you didn’t write the first review
but you two are a good team, you cannot have the music review without the poetry review…the whole thing is poetry. I’m gushing…I love them. This album has been so much fun for my husband and I to listen to as we learn what marriage is all about (”pajama holiday” is our new favorite date!) Thanks to OtR and thanks for the great reviews!