Review
Awe and wonder
Culture
Music
3 min read

Ezra Collective understands the where and how of transcendence

Dance music allows us to encounter what’s ’beyond our ken’.

Josh is a curate in London, and is completing a PhD in theology.

Concert goes stand, bathed in warm light, raising their hands in the air, facing away from the camera to the stage

Like so many, I came across the Ezra Collective after the band won the Mercury Prize for the album "Where I'm Meant To Be". So, I was primed to listen to its new album, 'Dance, No One's Watching' Yet I was not expecting it to impact me so profoundly.  

The album is divided into four acts, each depicting a stage of a night out: 'cloakroom link up'; 'in the dance'; 'our element'; and 'lights on'. The night out is given structure as if it were itself a work of art or even a liturgy, the agreed form of words and movement that shapes acts of public worship. And then, at the heart of the album, I heard 'Hear My Cry' and I realised the claim was a stronger one: this wasn't just like worship.  

As this track kicked in, I experienced a moment of visceral recognition. I was taken back to a church in Hackney, where those riffs had been accompanied by lyrics of praise. Suddenly I was there again, in the midst of that community, crying out: "When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I!"  

Speaking to Apple Music about this song, bandleader Femi Koleoso said:  

“I wanted the record to take us to the church dance floor now. It’s all about how the dance floor can feel bigger than you, it can sweep you up and overcome your feelings of overwhelm.” 

As I continued to listen, I was also struck by the beautiful closing track, 'Everybody'. On investigation, I discovered that it was also a reworking of a praise song, 'Everybody Blow Your Trumpet'. The album interprets a night of dancing as culminating in praise to God.  The inclusion of those instrumentals, 'Hear My Cry' and 'Everybody' add resonance and heft to the refrain of the album's lead single, 'God Gave Me Feet For Dancing', where the transcendent is touched and named, albeit gently, as God. 

In his new book, Cosmic Connections (reviewed for Seen & Unseen by Paul Weston), Charles Taylor argues that poetry "reveals to us, brings us into contact with, a deeper reality which would otherwise remain beyond our ken." While modern Western societies lack a shared structure of meaning or enchantment around which, traditionally, cultures were organised, poetry offers fragmentary contact with the transcendent through experience.  

'Dance, No One's Watching' shows us that what Taylor suggests of poetry is true of dance. It demonstrates the power of music—and of our participation in that music—to lead us into an encounter with something "beyond our ken".  

Much of “Dance No One's Watching" proceeds without words. Whereas poetry can name what is encountered, music can struggle to do so, leaving the emotions it generates in need of direction at best and open to manipulation at worst. And yet, by situating their music in the experience and memories of specific communities, including churches, Ezra Collective prevents this encounter becoming a vague experience of transcendence.  

There is a hospitality, a pluralism, to the album's understanding of where and how transcendence is encountered but it is not relativism. Even as different genres and contexts are explored, the particularity remains.  

Just as the album reminds us that every church should be a dance floor, it raises the possibility that churches can help us all see God as the one who gave us feet for dancing and to find Him on every dance floor. 

Watch now

Article
Christmas culture
Creed
Music
5 min read

That mother mild

A cartoon and a shampoo might shed some light on a lazy rhyme.
A Christmas tree bauble depicts the Virgin and Child.
Robert Thiemann on Unsplash.

Some years I’ve already reached ‘peak Christmas Carol’ by now. I haven’t - yet - but I have sung enough - in a nursing home, some sheltered accommodation, schools and our own Carol Services this week - to be irked by some seemingly lazy rhymes. And to notice that a surprisingly high number of our most popular carols contain the word ‘mild’ - an adjective that doesn’t pop up in many songs or hymns as at other times of the year. 

This year it started for me with Cecil Frances Alexander’s ‘Once in Royal David’s city.’ It’s a very fine carol, reminding us of Bethlehem’s royal connections and launching a thousand carol services with candlelit children soloing timorously. One of the most infamous uses of ‘mild’ comes in the original, written in 1848: 

‘Christian children all must be 

mild, obedient, good as he.’ 

Cecil Alexander was predominantly a writer of children’s hymns (including ‘All things bright and beautiful’) but the hectoring tone seems out of place in a Festival of Carols. Where’s the lifestyle advice for Christian grown-ups? And as a parent and a pastor, I can think of a hundred better adjectives that I would cherish for Christian children. What’s the use of being mild? What about courageous? Or compassionate? Or contrary? Children of the 70’s like me have only one good use for the word ‘mild’ - it’s as a cover for an alter ego. Our hero was Hong Kong Fuey, who masqueraded as a ‘mild-mannered janitor’ under the glare of Sergeant Flint but was actually a ‘number one super guy’! 

Also revealed in ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ is the apparently lazy rhyme that may well explain the ubiquity of ‘milds’ in our best-loved carols: 

‘Mary was that mother mild, 

Jesus Christ, her little child.’ 

The list of English words that rhyme well with child is limited - eg. filed - piled - riled - smiled - styled - tiled - wild - whiled. You’d have to crack out the shoe horn to get some of those convincingly into a carol. 

Edward Caswall published ‘See amid the winter’s snow’ 10 years after ‘Once in Royal...’, in 1858. He couldn’t resist either: 

‘Teach, O teach us, Holy Child, 

by thy face so meek and mild.’ 

And Freeman Young, who translated the German of Joseph Mohr’s ‘Stille nacht’ also followed suit: 

‘Round yon virgin mother and child, 

Holy Infant so tender and … (you guessed it!) - mild’ 

So is this just a rhyme of convenience, a verbal stocking filler? The intent, admittedly sentimental, seems to be to describe the gentleness, the ordinariness of Jesus or Mary. The problem, for twenty-first century ears, is that we don’t really want a ‘mild’ anything - we want the proper winters of our youth, with snow days. We want a sedative that will knock us out and not keep us awake. And who wants a mild cheddar when you can have Extra Mature for your cheese on toast? ‘Mild’ is unadventurous, dull, pedestrian - we don’t want it for ourselves, and we can’t see why we’d celebrate it as a characteristic of God - even at the moment of Incarnation. 

I think there is some more light to be shed on this seasonal celebration of mildness. Three shafts of light from the past that might help us change our tune on the value of being mild. 

First, the originals of our English word ‘mild.’ The Old English ‘milde’ carried the meaning of someone who is gracious, someone who isn’t severe. Someone who forebears harsh judgement and responds graciously, compassionately. That’s more promising if we’re sketching out the love of God. 

The second comes from the eighteenth century. The prolific Charles Wesley wrote 6,500 hymns, including the majestic and characteristically full-blooded ‘Hark! The herald angels sing’ (written in 1739). Wesley includes two ‘milds’, the first of which, about mercy, rhymes with reconciled, rather than child (that’s another one to add to the list!) It’s the second one that’s really interesting - and my nomination for the best us of ‘mild’ in a Christmas carol: 

‘Mild, he lays his glory by’ 

This carries the older, less familiar sense of being gracious, of not being severe. The essence of God’s mildness is described as the putting aside of his majesty, the majesty of King and Creator. Laying it aside - in love - so that He can become visible, and tangible - to fallen, fragile human beings. This is a brilliant description of the Christmas story - we just wouldn’t now choose the word ‘mild’ to encapsulate this. 

The most unlikely but illustrative modern echo of the Old English original and Wesleyan mild is Unilever’s Timotei shampoo. It exploded on to the UK market in the 80’s with its promise to be ‘so mild you can wash your hair as often as you like’. For starters, marketing genius - I can safely wash my hair every day (and use lots more shampoo)! But also a restatement of the value of gentleness or not being stringent or severe. This shampoo (actually removed from UK markets in 2017 but still popular in Europe) isn’t going to damage your scalp and hair - it’s going to nourish it instead. 

I can see why the nagging ‘Christian children must be mild’ is often left out of twenty-first century Carol Services. I can tolerate the number of child-mild rhymes, given the lack of other options (though I do feel ‘styled’ could be great in the hands of a Gen Z composer). But it’s Wesley’s ‘mild, he lays his glory by’ that will keep me celebrating the forebearance, the humility of Jesus this Christmas. Who knows, I may not reach ‘peak carol’ till 12.30 pm on Christmas Day (when we close up the church and jump in the car for festive lunch with the family.) The forecast for Winchester is, after all …. MILD! 

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