High Hopes

I've often been pretty hard on Born in the USA as an album.  As a collection of songs, it's great. Seven of the twelve tracks charted as singles, and the ones that didn't probably should have.  With the E-Street Band behind them, those songs move and shake on stage in a way that is second only to cuts from Darkness like "Badlands." But when you hold the album as a whole up against the Boss's great albums, the songs don't tell as much of a story, and the overarching theme of "America" is a bit too broad.

So it seems somehow fitting that 30 years after that release, I'm thinking the same things about Springsteen's newest effort High Hopes.  Taking each track singly, I find a lot to like about this album.  I'm excited to hear almost every track on it live, and I really hope these songs last deep into the tour (because apparently now I expect to see him twice per album?).  The middle of the album especially stands out as it leaves the early covers and remakes behind and reminds us we're still listening to a Springsteen album.  Much like BitU before it, these songs that comprise the meat of the album won't get widespread play, even if this was still the era of putting on seven singles from a twelve song disc.  "This is Your Sword" had me from the word go, and "Frankie Fell in Love" is an ear-worm that grows on you.  "Just Like Fire Would", despite its origin as a cover, definitely feels like a Bruce classic.

The album's problems are only in taking it as a whole, which I understand is probably something about 2% of music listeners do these days.  The movement from the early, crunchy tracks into the more melodic middle is jarring, and then again as we pop back out to "Tom Joad" near the end.  As I told some friends on Facebook, I think tracks 4-9 and 11 would have made a great Springsteen EP.  Maybe keep the other tracks at the end as bonus material?

Overall though, the merit of a Springsteen album is hard to gauge for this fan, because the album itself is overshadowed by one single thought: "When does the tour start?"  If I'm actually excited to hear any of the new tracks live (which I am), then I just count that as a bonus.

Musical Theology: Adeste Fideles

Before we get too far from Christmas, I wanted to mention one of the seasonal hymns I find most interesting: "Adeste Fideles", or "O Come, All Ye Faithful" as most of us know/sing it.  While it has an interesting backstory on its authorship and possible other interpretations of the song (start at wikipedia and click on the references), I want to talk about the text of the song, specifically, verse 2 (in the United Methodist Hymnal).

Verses 1-3, and 6 are the traditional verses, and 1, 3, and 6 have always felt of a type to me, telling a story of a call to celebration.  I always picture it not necessarily as a call to the manger on that first Christmas (because where were "all ye faithful" then?), but rather as the call to some massive Kingdom birthday celebration, and we are taking on the roll of the announcer.  We invite folks to Bethlehem, strike up the heavenly band, and greet Christ, the guest of honor, as he enters.  (Yes, I do a lot of world-building while I sing.)

But then there's verse 2.  We're barely out of the gate, and suddenly, we're singing the key part of Nicean Creed.  It's a brilliant piece of sung theology; in fact it may be in my top ten all-time pieces of sung theology (placeholder link to that article, which I can't wait to write now).  Like many songs with smart lyrics, though, it has issues with its own musical setting.  At that most theologically crucial line, "Begotten, not created", the song has to add in an extra syllable to make it work. Despite my love for the song, ever since I first saw Love Actually, the voice of Billy Mack creeps into my head during this verse every time I sing it: "And particularly enjoy the incredible crassness of the moment when we try to squeeze an extra syllable into the fourth line."  I don't actually find it crass, but if you see me smirking while singing next Christmas, you'll know why.

Eat a bigger salad

As we roll into 2014, I'm working on making a list of goals, instead of resolutions (as advocated by Brian Brushwood here).  One of them is to get back to writing something at least weekly.

I am always looking for the best deal.  I used to walk around Best Buy and divide hard drive sizes by costs.  That's what always used to get me in trouble at fast food restaurants.  Why get the regular size, when super-size is only 50 cents more?  If the foot-long sub is $6 and 6-inch is $4, why would you ever get the 6-inch?  I don't frequent those types of places much anymore, so I don't have those worries anymore, but I found a new calculation: calories to fullness.

Whenever I hear about losing weight or eating better, portion control usually comes up early and often in the conversation.  Generally, I buy in to that.  I tend to weigh my meat, measure my spoonfuls, and generally watch how much of everything I put on my plate.  I even log everything in an app to help me keep track.  However, I have one big exception to the smaller portion rule: Salad.  A few months ago, I would make myself a "small" salad with a meal.  The calorie counter would be almost full and I'd still be hungry soon after.  I took a closer look at my meal, and found that a full salad (minus the dressing) added up to about 40 calories.  So the next day, I pulled out the big bowl, and made a massive salad, and logged it as 80 calories.  In the grand scheme of a day, that's not a big calorie difference, but it a huge difference in how full I feel for the rest of the day.

I know it's not a shocking revelation, but it's one of many little lessons I've learned in making a shift.  All of them seem to fall under the heading "Add, Don't Subtract".  Much like Lent, every time I tried to diet before, I was "giving something up."  This time, I get to fill up my day with whatever I want, but when I cap out, that's it.  I like to say that nothing is off-limits, as long as I log it.  I know that's not strictly true (I'm looking at you, horribly sodium-filled casual dining restaurant menus), but when I'm cooking my own food, it pretty much is.

I'm not completely cured of my food-value searching though.  I can't ever see a time when I'll get the half-salad at Panera, but that's probably OK.