Looking Closer - review of Birds of my Neighborhood

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The Innocence Mission -
Birds of My Neighborhood
- remastered and re-released in April 2006 -

To skip down to Jeffrey's review, click here.

Describe the Music of The Innocence Mission
CONTEST WINNERS

I received more entries to the Innocence Mission contest than I expected. Clearly, people LOVE their music, and many found themselves using similar metaphors in their attempts to describe Karen and Don Peris's songs.

One winner did more than just describe the experience. He celebrated it in a poem of his own, answering art with art. This seemed so appropriate to me that I'm awarding him a free copy of Don Peris's new solo album: Go Where the Morning Shineth.

The second copy (surprise!) goes to someone who described the tendency of the Peris's songs to become personal, and he tells a story about how their music ended up in what seems a very appropriate place... a church service.

So here they are, starting with the two winners, and then following with a few of the runners-up.

WINNERS!

Gene Branaman:
The Stars Don’t Know

The stars don’t know
How they shine while
Emitting their God-given light.

In meter and rhyme
No fish can measure their
Natural behaviors . . . typical
Of their ken. They have no need.
Cedar and mahogany (despite their beauty
Even prior to the revelation of their grain)
Never will have the talent (inherent or learned) to
Chord the shimmering vibrations of human
Emotion or arpeggiate the simple

Moments of a man and a woman in love
In hymns that are mundane and
Supernatural
Simultaneously. It
Is the beauty of the every day -
Ordered and formed for the pleasure of Beauty;
Not for our sake, but for His.

Good Friday, 2006

David Boozer:
I bought Birds of My Neighborhood during my freshman year of college, and it was all I listened to for the whole winter. I was in a dark place. I felt like everything I had done in high school had been a waste and I had nothing left to give. I felt like I had lost all my friends and could never make any new ones. I had run away from God and felt I might never find Him again. I thought I might be dying. This music seeped through my dark bedroom to keep me grounded with lines like:

Some winters are harder than others.
We are going to take our cameras
and look through at black trees with empty arms
and sled tracks, wandering as we are.

And:

Look for me another time,
give me another day;
I feel that I could change.

I knew it was only a season; I knew a change was coming.
And when it did come,

The world at night
could see the greatest light.
Too much light to deny.

I had to go through a process of uprooting and humbling so I could refocus my trust on God. This music held me together, focused my eyes to look up through my self-pitying tears.

People like to highlight the innocence of the Peris's music by trying to describe Karen's childish voice and Don's chiming guitars. They point to the specificity of their terse lyrics and the complex emotions evoked by such careful simplicity. And there's the wistfulness of her unconquerable shyness and their aching for a child—though the joy of "Beautiful Change" and Now the Day is Over make that aching well worth your while.

But people less often focus on the second half of their name: the innocence mission, which calls to mind wise nuns in an ancient convent — patient, ascetic, wellsprings of faith.

Though she is lost, though she is birdless, Karen insists, "My Father will bend His ear to the ground."

She reminds us again, "Some clear joy is coming on some slowest train." She implores us to believe it as she does, "Can you hear that it's coming again?"

And then there is startling depth in bold lines like: "The soul of my brother is pure, though he doesn't think so."

While their symbols and arrangements may be simple, there is nothing childish in the quality of the Peris's faith. They are not interested in being flashy or clever. They are too smart to resort to the comforting platitudes that a troubled soul would rather hear. They sing with all the conviction of the prophet Isaiah, who said, "Because the Sovereign Lord helps me, I will not be disgraced. Therefore have I set my face like flint, and I know I will not be put to shame."

Since that dismal winter, I have cheered up considerably, and collected almost all of the other albums by The Innocence Mission. They are pieces of my history, as much as any of my journals or letters. There is something intensely private for me about this music, like prayers offered up in the middle of the night. I don't play it casually in the car with a bunch of strangers. When I let someone hear one of their albums, I'm letting them inside of me.

So when I let my pastor borrow Birds of My Neighborhood, I was really pleased that he liked it so much. But when I heard the opening riff of "Snow" coming over the speakers during the announcements at church, I froze. I started to blush. If the 100 people there didn't like it, it would mean that they didn't like me. It's silly. I know. But it's what I was thinking. The brilliant thing is, though: people did like it. Because it's good music. And because everyone knows that some winters are harder than others, and everyone could feel that truth resonating in their hearts. Because that's what Art is supposed to do.

I'm not so shy about sharing their music anymore. It's too important, too far beyond me to withhold. And when someone new is hearing it for the first time, it helps if I sing to myself,

I hope some other time
I won't care so much about
being understood as I do now.
I will leave myself and go away.
I would like to follow you away.

runners-up (in no particular order)

Jessica Poundstone:
The Innocence Mission's music is an early spring day when everything is lit alive by the new sun, careful listening brings you choruses of singing birds, the air filling your lungs is crisp and nourishing, and your heart basks in a lullaby of hope and joy.

Naomi Proctor:
The Innocence Mission's music floats effortlessly through airy waves to awaken the most profound awareness of life and being alive. The lyrics convey a deep yearning, awe, sadness, joy and discernment almost without knowing it.

They are wonderfully rich in imagery as in "There" from Glow: "all the clouds are weary whales swimming by to find you" and raw, soul-baring honesty as in "July" from Birds: "when I had run away to envy and black feelings", yet surprisingly they feel wholly ordinary and uncalculated and this is part of their magic. The sometimes spare yet masterfully artful guitar and piano underpinning Karen Peris's haunting voice refresh the soul.

It is here in this secret place, away from the many distractions of life, that you may discover yourself and remember what you were created for. Truly, listening to the Innocence Mission is a spiritual experience.

...Did you leave the darkness without me? You're always miles ahead. And you're standing in tomorrow on the runway...
- "Tomorrow," Befriended

....In this painting the whole world is navy blue...
- "Happy, The End," Glow

...Nobody knows darling, nobody knows how they are loved...
"When Mac Was Swimming," Befriended

...And we'll dance through yellow yards, like a dress on the line closing our eyes, losing this...I see I have come to the wall, come to the end of me...
"Spinning," Glow

...Its a long day, a long way into your arms...and all the clouds are weary whales swimming by to find you...
"There," Glow

Michael Dalton:
Pristine Beauty

Discovering the Innocence Mission is like finding pristine beauty in the wild. It’s a moment of elation. The simplicity is striking. It’s natural and not pretentious.

The music can be stark and haunting with a touch of melancholy or warm and comforting as a friend’s embrace.

These two artists paint with magic colors like the rays of the sun illuminating the clouds. The pastel notes and the gentle voice hearken to a time when life was simpler.

What a respite from a world that can be harsh and uncaring. The Innocence Mission is like a breath of spring at the end of a long, cold winter.
They create a refuge where honesty and beauty can be enjoyed and admired.

Tisha Stima:
The gentle nudge of the first spring breeze - hopeful yet not without a chill, the lingering warmth of a farewell embrace, your child's laughter beneath a pile of autumn leaves, a silent walk with your favorite friend. The sum of all things familiar, sorrowful, beautiful and strange.

Larry Thomas Meade:
How do you describe something as fragile and beautiful as The Innocence Mission's music?

While words limit and prevent the true sharing of the enchanted experience of experiencing Innocence Mission, I will nobly attempt to do so.

Close your eyes and take a deep breathe.

Breath deeply and fully, filing your body with life-giving oxygen.

Picture a beautiful lake in the early morning, sun beginning to shine brightly, birds lightly chirping, and a light breeze sharing the wonderful scent of nature.

You look over and notice a mother and daughter playing at the water's edge. The little girl is delightfully giggling, taking in the complete essence of the joy of nature. The mother gazes loving at her daughter, sharing in her daughter's joy, abandoning her fears, worries, and anxieties - even if just for a brief moment - to celebrate all that is right in the world.

You have just seen what I hear when I experience Innocence Mission.

Kevin Shaw:
When I found the songs of The Innocence Mission, I found a shelter -- a place bricked with joy and framed with melody to harbor the weary, and to heal the sick. When Seattle showers have not let up for days, and all the grayness has etched a scowl on my face, I can turn to Befriended to remember times when good will and grace have blessed me; summer nights spent listening to car sounds coming in through my window; visits to California as a small child, where I would play with my cousins under the wide blue sky; and a long holiday service spent squeezed into a tiny room with a translator and a small crowd of others because I couldn't understand the Chinese testimony. When I am feeling unwilling and afraid, when all I want to do is curl up in a distant corner of the room and sleep forever, their hopeful music draws me out of my sadness. It has been said that "songs are prayers," and this can hardly be more true than with the music of The Innocence Mission, that is characterized, for me, by memory, joy, and deep-rooted hope.

Doug Kimball:
Simple. Childlike. Almost infantile? How does one describe the music of The Innocence Mission? Karen Peris' voice and Don's guitarwork create a combination that is - ok, sorry to use this adjective - haunting. Now the Day is Over seems to be a perfect match for the quality of the music, because many of the songs that are not lullabies still have that quality. Quiet, understated, uncluttered, like sleep stealing over you at night, or like the sun gently waking you in the morning. And these two instruments - her voice, and the guitar(s) - complement each other in an unusual way. It is not as if she is accompanied - both voices are valid, different, and of equal weight. Acoustic music is an immediate draw for me as a listener, so it is not a surprise that the Innocence Mission draws me in. Little to no percussion, no wasted notes - spare and rich at the same time.

Niek van Lopik:
Music of The Innocence Mission or Don Peris gives a supernatural sound. It gives me time to dream because when I hear Karen singing it looks like the time stand still. Besides that they are capable artists and the best kept secret of underground pop music!

a review by Jeffrey Overstreet

Jeffrey's Sum-Up:
A Masterpiece
Excellent
Impressive
Worth Hearing
So-So
or Sorely Lacking

A Masterpiece

With repeated listenings, you will find these songs stay with you, and in spite of their acknowledgment of life's darker side—indeed, because of that inclusion—they can be a source of strength, turning our attention to the future and to the benevolence of the Divine. I've taken to playing Birds on my headphones on the bus ride home from work; it reminds me that, when things seem heavy and burdensome, I have much to cherish, anticipate, and enjoy.

April 2006 UPDATE:
The new re-mastered version of The Innocence Mission's Birds of My Neighborhood lets this masterful recording expand to fill a room, resonating in hardwood floors, giving the listener the freedom to move about in the spaces between Don Peris's exquisite guitar stylings and the fragile beauty of Karen Peris's vocals. It's the next best thing to having them visit you personally in your living room and play you a song... a dream I haven't given up on yet. I know, it sounds funny to dream of having one of your favorite bands visit your home, but hey... if music as glorious as The Innocence Mission's can exist and find audiences amid the clamor and buzz, then I'm inclined to believe in miracles.

These songs are as fresh and beautiful as the day they were recorded, more than five years ago. While Don and Karen have moved on from those days of deep darkness in which they crafted such palpable sounds of sadness and hope, their work continues to give voice to the wounds and wishes of people everywhere today. And rather than merely wallowing in angst, these songs are journeys that move us from a place of grief to a place of gratitude and grace.

Imagine a girl and a boy sneaking into an empty cathedral, carrying guitars. They sit down beside some candles. The boy begins to play; the girl to sing in sweet ethereal tones the poetry of their personal praise to their Savior, the stories of their lives, the accounting of their trials...but all of this is done quietly, so as not to draw a crowd. That's the kind of thing you'll hear when you listen to the music of The Innocence Mission. Intimate, resonant... a timid sound in an enormous space.

Don Peris's instrumentation sounds sometimes more like the bells of a country church than an electric guitar. His interaction with his wife, vocalist and lyricist Karen Peris, speaks of a deep understanding of each others' artistic strengths, and the same goes for their longtime bassist Mike Bitts, who gives the songs backbone. While Steve Brown's percussion was well-suited to previous outings, his absence here does not hurt these quieter pieces.

When Karen Peris sings, the words may come straight from her diary, her most revealing meditations on the things she cares most about. But anyone can relate to the feelings and questions there, and find comfort in the answers that she herself finds sustaining and restoring. She's not preaching; in fact she may not even be aware of the audience at all. And her contemplations are so deeply rooted in life's most meaningful things--faith, love, humility, family, compassion--that no matter how unfamiliar the characters in the song or how cryptic the circumstances that inspired it, the imagery is intense and powerful, like what might have happened if Denise Levertov had written a song with Simon and Garfunkel.

Without sacrificing any of these qualities, the band turns over a new leaf with Birds of My Neighborhood. After their explorative debut album, which found them aspiring to be a radio-ready pop band a la 10,000 Maniacs, the Mission hit their stride with Umbrella, settling on a fusion of pop and folk that has only occasionally bent the ear of mainstream radio (with hits like "Bright as Yellow"). That sound has become their signature--crystalline, meditative--a simple combination of guitar, vocals, and percussion that owes something to Simon and Garfunkel's Sounds of Silence and Neil Young's Harvest. Umbrella focused on childhood memories and a growing understanding of faith. Glow was more ambitious, excerpts from a family history, with similar instrumental restraint that allowed some tracks like "Everything's Different Now" to soar to new heights of energy and enthusiasm.

Now, with Birds of My Neighborhood, there's a different thread…loss. It's like we've turned a page in the photo album to the darker side of life--breakups, despair, the loss of friends and the realizations that the good old days are over.

   Friends have moved away.
    One tree has come down, another one flowers and sways.
    Miri was lost for five days.
    From upstate at school one friend writes
    Everything is changing while the day sky stays blue.
    Changing around him, and me without you.

Appropriately, the music is more audaciously sparse than ever, as though nothing can rise above a whisper when speaking of such things. As in Bob Dylan's Time Out of Mind, we hear echoes of the past haunting the singer. Even "Follow Me," the band's first cover also included on a John Denver tribute collection, seems edged with sadness, perhaps alluding to the tragic death of the songwriter himself. (Indeed, the song preceding it makes reference to a man who flew "away in spring in a light blue and silver plane" and "now the snow has covered everything.")

The simplicity and concentration of these poems might have been merely mournful in the hands of any other songwriters, but somehow Karen Peris can find hope and strength without sugarcoating the sadness and discouragement. She reminds the recurring, mocking figure of the "laughing man" that, just as faith can move mountains, she can find a way to row through the icy waters of "The Lakes of Canada." In "I Haven't Seen This Day," every morning seems a new world of possibility in spite of recent trials:

   Oh mourning dove, we'll go up to my roof.
    Oh mourning dove, we'll go into the sky.
    This day is filling up my room,
    is coming through my door.
    Oh I have not seen this day before.

In "July," perhaps Karen Peris's most sublime lyrics of all, she tells us of a season of drought where "we both wake up so dry/that no more tears can leave us." Such intense hardship is a new country for the Innocence Mission, but even at midnight the day begins.

   Our friend came in
    out of nowhere, with lit
    sparklers in both her hands for me,
    and saved the day
    when I had run away
    to envy and black feelings.
    And the world at night
    could see the greatest light.
    Too much light to deny.

Often dismissed as merely sentimental and naively optimistic, The Innocence Mission remain a needle in a haystack, a mother lode of musical gold in the mountain range of modern pop music. While so many bands dwell on cynicism, on shallow love songs, on diatribes and proselytizing, Karen and Don Peris and Mike Bitts have crafted four albums of praise songs, meditations, reminiscences, poems, and stories that have the evocative power of an old photo album. They offer themselves through music as good friends, trusting the attentive listener enough to confide in them.