Want to trigger a spiritual experience or simply become a less selfish person? Get lost in meditation, prayer or even a good song, MU researchers say. Doing so, they’ve found, deactivates the part of the brain programmed to focus on your self.
Brick Johnstone, a University of Missouri neurophysiologist, released a study early this month that linked decreased activity in the right parietal lobe of the brain to spiritual experiences. That particular area of the brain, found in the upper back portion, controls a person’s ability to recognize themselves, their abilities and their relationship to their environment.
Johnstone studied individuals with brain injuries and discovered that people with trauma to the right parietal lobe reported higher levels of spiritual experiences.The finding is important, he said, because it means people can learn to become selfless by decreasing activity in that part of the brain through meditation or prayer.
But one doesn’t have to be religious to experience it; even getting lost in a good song can take a person’s attention away from the sense of self, said Dan Cohen, an MU professor of religious studies and anthropologist. "Losing your sense of self is a human experience that happens in various degrees," Cohen said. "If you’re listening to music, your favorite song on the radio, you lose yourself and suddenly it’s over. You lost your sense of self for a moment as you’ve merged yourself into the music. It’s a joyful and pleasant experience."
Johnstone stressed that the study isn’t intended to minimize spirituality as simply a brain function. "Just because the brain is shutting down, allowing you to be more selfless, that doesn’t take away from the spiritual experience you feel," he said. "There’s something incredibly wonderful about the universe people feel connected to; for monotheistic religions, that’s God, or for other religions it’s nirvana or the universe, for lack of better term."
And there’s no evidence that spirituality can be linked to just one area of the brain, Cohen said. The brain is too complex and individualized to try to compartmentalize or oversimplify its functions, he said. "You have to be careful to not say, ‘Oh, that explains it,’ " he said. "That’s dangerous."
Johstone’s findings align with other studies that have shown Buddhist meditators and Franciscan nuns experience the same neuropsychological functions during religious experiences. Locally, Cohen has found that individuals from various religious denominations benefit mentally not because of religious rituals but because they feel support and love from their respective congregations. Cohen and Johnstone are now studying spirituality among individuals who have suffered a stroke or have cancer or other health problems.
The research "can be used to garner greater mental health and to make minds work better, longer and stay healthier," Cohen said. "Brain health is becoming increasingly recognized as an important part of a good life, a satisfying life."
2008 is almost history and the year ahead... well, who can say what awaits us tomorrow? One thing is for sure, music will play an integral part of our New Year's celebrations and all our days yet to be. As individuals, communities, cultures, nations and as fellow human beings sharing our common Earth-home, we are always searching for new musical expressions to celebrate our existence in the here and now. May 2009 bring to us all harmony and euphony, and may we come to fully realize our own, distinct song playing it's melody out through our very being.
This week's Featured Track of the last week in '08 is from the band Cabin, based in Louisville, KY. Find out more about Cabin in the Featured Track section of the homepage and in this week's podcast (available 12/31) where Cabin band leader Noah Hewitt-Ball shares his thoughts on the creative process, the comparison of Cabin from press and radio to My Morning Jacket, Coldplay, and U2 as well as their personal endorsement from none other than Sufjan Stevens.
We are truly grateful for each and every one of you and we send our thoughts and prayers to you and yours. As we said last week, may there indeed be "peace on earth, goodwill toward men." Happy New Year and many, many blessings!
Cabin is a melodic rock band from Louisville, KY led by founding member Noah Hewitt-Ball. Cabin wastes little time setting the tone on their newest EP (Machine Records) entitled I Was Here. Their emotional and hauntingly beautiful track, "Cover Your Eyes" is a dramatic and spiritual journey, imploring a greater power for answers to some age-old questions. This soulful, touching plea (ripe with sweeping strings and evocative piano) does resolve some of those questions but, like real life, leaves many of them unanswered.
Featured Track: "Cover Your Eyes"
Lyric Excerpt:
With God as my witness, like nobody's business,
you know that I've tried
and somehow I'll never be sure
But I'll keep asking why
Because you can't hide from the world by covering your eyes
Most of us have music or listening preferences that have long been established. Our favorite genres, bands, songs and styles have developed over a lifetime of performing and/or listening to music. We don’t often deliberately step out of these bounds we’ve created for the sheer enjoyment of experimenting, although sometimes opening up to new styles and allowing new forms of music to move through us can be beneficial. It’s like I was told by one of my first music teachers many years ago, “never close your mind to new music and new musical experiences, each can only help to make you a better musician.”
There is a fine line between euphony and cacophony and, “beauty is to be found in the eye (and ears) of the beholder.” I do know from first-hand experience that opening up (just as we do when we surrender in meditation and prayer) and allowing for diversity to flow through us, or into us, has profound lessons to teach. What I’ve learned from such experiences is that the tapestry of being is made finer and life becomes richer as a result.
Today’s post by David Todd is one such example of opening to new musical experiences. After reading the article and interview with Kieran Hebden be sure to follow through by clicking on the music samples and allow your being to absorb what it is being offered. I, personally think it is great music. What can we learn from new music and from performing or experimenting in a vein we’re not accustomed to? What is it about new styles of music and new modes of living that make us uncomfortable? Isn’t reaching and stretching, and opening to what’s novel an exceptional avenue for growth?
London-born Kieran Hebden—also known as Four Tet, his primary vehicle—started out playing guitar in the post-rock group Fridge, who debuted with the album “Ceefax” in 1997. He quickly moved into producing his own electronic albums, beginning with “Dialogue” in 1999 and leading up to his sublime “Remixes” in 2006. Still in his late 20s, Hebden’s side work includes producing the latest album, “Fire Escape,” by American freak-collective Sunburned Hand of the Man. When Sunburned’s John Moloney called Hebden “the biggest music fan I’ve ever met,” there wasn’t much reason to argue. The range on Hebden’s 2006 “DJ-Kicks” mix alone—which shifts from Gong to Madvillain to Curtis Mayfield—suggests an ear that’s permanently open.
New York expat Steve Reid’s list of references is longer still; as a drummer, he’s played with everyone from Miles Davis to James Brown over his nearly 50 years in the jazz/R&B world. A few decades older than Hebden, he comes in from the organic side of their equation, sitting behind his kit while Kieran mans a table of electronics. As a duo, their first two albums—“The Exchange Session Vol. 1” & “Vol. 2”—were recorded at a studio of that name in London, but could just as easily have been titled for the musical tradeoff which goes on among them. After releasing “Tongues” in 2007, they’re back with “NYC,” which pays tribute to the turbulent, smothering New York from which Reid originates.
DAVID TODD: How did you hook up with Steve Reid, and how did you realize there was a connection there worth pursuing?
KIERAN HEBDEN: Well, [after] the last Four Tet album came out, I wanted to do something different, maybe with a drummer, where the drummer would play live with me doing real-time electronics. I mentioned it to a friend of mine and he contacted me a few weeks later and said, “I managed to track down Steve Reid, how about meeting up with him?” So I met up with Steve and we did the first show, and the first show was really exciting, it just seemed to jell really quickly. Then a couple days later we went into a recording studio. At that point, I knew that this wasn’t just going to be an experiment; it was something that I was going to end up doing loads of.
Since you and Steve each have covered so much musical ground, I was wondering how you found your style together. Was that a process or did it just click?
I think when we first got together we both understood that the most common meeting ground was spiritual free jazz. The first session we did was very Sun Ra/Don Cherry, all that type of stuff. But once we began playing more, we started playing more and more [different] music for each other. Steve would send me a CD of Theo Parrish, and be like “I’m really into this at the moment, what do you think?” And then we went to Africa together and listened to a lot of African music around that time. You know, we’re as likely to listen to Sly Stone as we are to Coltrane; it’s not just a jazz thing. I think the record that’s just come out, “NYC,” is not very jazz-sounding at all. That’s little parts of it, but I think the music we’re doing is as much soul or even dance music or techno.
So you were interested in getting away from a strictly jazz concept, or strictly anything, from the beginning?
Yeah, totally. We wanted to do something that pushed us both in new directions. And for me, it was really liberating.
After playing with Steve for a few years now, how do you think he’s affected you?
I think I’ve been getting a comprehensive education in rhythm from Steve (laughs). Because he’s part of the African-American drum tradition that’s existed through blues and soul and funk and jazz, through to hip-hop, that for someone living in London was always something that felt out of my reach. I think Steve’s one of the best living examples of that kind of drumming style and rhythmic feel, he’s so good at holding down an incredible rhythm and messing around with it. I feel like I’ve been learning a lot from him.
To me, one of the challenges in making an album called “NYC” is the difficulty of capturing the city as a whole. Not that you and Steve are presenting this as a definitive portrait, but was there something you felt New York boiled down to in a musical sense?
Well, when I first met Steve, we were playing in Europe, and he was like, “We’ve got to back and play in New York.” And straightaway we got to New York and he started playing different, more aggressively and with more of a funk edge. And he said to me, “Yeah, it’s a different rhythm here.” Then after we’d done another record in London, Steve was like, “Let’s go to New York to do the next record because it’ll give it a different sound.” We went to look for a studio, and the idea suddenly went beyond just recording in New York and turned into this whole thing where the record was going to be about New York. It was supposed to be about our experience of the city, its impact on us and the type of music that seemed to make sense while we were there. I think particularly with the kind of rhythmic ideas that Steve was using, [if] he had an idea and was like, “No, this isn’t the type of beat that’s from New York,” he wouldn’t use it. Steve was like, “Let’s make the most New York record we can.”
The opening song, “Lyman Place,” refers to the neighborhood Steve came from in the Bronx. I found the synthesizer on that to be very intense, very resistant being pushed into the background. Is that an effect that you were going for in terms of a New York feel?
That was a song that started evolving through [our] live shows. The bass riff is quite heavy, and I wanted to make it ever more intense, you know, and I found that this synth noise just pitching up and up, this kind of permanent crescendo, [would] really excite the crowd. And then we recorded it for the album, and we had all the tracks sitting there, and Steve was like “That’s the first track!” And I was like, that’s the heaviest, maddest track, you want to open with it? And Steve was like, “Yeah, we’re going to come in with the most intimidating thing we’ve got.” Like you’re arriving in [the city]. I think that was back to his New York thing, big and intimidating straightaway.
As much as there is that intense feel to the music, it seems like there’s also another side that’s more celebratory or joyful. Is there a celebratory element as you see it?
Completely. When I did the last Four Tet album, “Everything Ecstatic,” I had this idea that a lot of the music I loved was reaching beyond just making a record to levels of happiness or spirituality. If I listen to a gospel record, say, they’re not just singing for fun, they’re talking to God. It’s got this extra level of intensity. And I think when I met with Steve, he seemed to be tuned-in to that concept of making music that created a sense of euphoria or celebration. I think both of us are committed to the idea that music is an important, magical thing, that really helps people and does wonders in the world. I feel like music gives me some kind of purpose, and it makes everything make sense. I want to make music that isn’t just to be taken lightly in the background, that makes life worth living.
Compared to Life (if the familiar dyad even makes sense), Death is famously dispassionate. Death doesn't care when, or why, or how, or who. Death can not care, because caring is the job of the living. And so choice has precious little to do with death, which is why we clutch at whatever choices we do have about our final moments. We usually don't have the luxury of the death we would prefer, and so we do insignificant and desperate things like making living wills and funeral playlists, pre-emptive strikes at the infinite unyielding unconcern of nonexistence.
Some cultures don't consider suicide to be as tasteless as ours does (thanatophobic and euphemistic, we have a long history of plucking out our own offending eyes without mourning our lost sight). Here and now, we can do little to decide the terms of our passage without distressing the ones we love.
We can, however, write declarations of love that stamp a seal of determination on our last breath. Tenderly capturing his request to die in the presence of his beloved, Elbow frontman Guy Garvey penned an exemplar of such quietly raging hopeful confessions: the organ ballad, "Switching Off." Painting precious, half-iambic metaphors of his last night's fading lights from the perch of candid youth, Garvey imagines a distant and peaceful shutdown - and his partner's place beside him, amidst the creeping noise and the crumbling synchrony.
Elbow - "Switching Off"
Last of the men in hats hops off the coil
And a final scene unfolds inside
Deep in the rain of sparks behind his brow
Is a part replayed from a perfect day
Teaching her how to whistle like a boy
In love's first blush
Is this making sense?
What am I trying to say?
Early evening June, this room and a radio play
This I need to save
I choose my final thoughts today
Switching off with you
All the clocks give in, and the traffic fades
And the insects like...like a neon choir
The instant fizz, connection made
And the curtains sigh in time with you
You're the only sense the world has ever made
Early evening June, this room and radio play
This I need to save
I choose my final scene today
Switching off...
Ran to ground, ran to ground for a while there
But I came off pretty well, I came off pretty well...
You're the only sense the world has ever made
This I need to save
A simple trinket locked away
I choose my final scene today
Switching off with you
This song is one of the truest love letters I've ever heard, daisies growing from a double grave, holding hands to die of old age, because "You're the only sense the world has ever made." Whatever happens between now and then, God save this feeling, this certainty and adoration, togetherness and memory, this "simple trinket locked away," until I can look back and smile at its accurate prediction.
We may not get to choose how we die, but we can hope against hope that we die in someone's arms. We can't carry anything across that threshold, but we can carry our cares right up to its silver edge. We can adorn our lives with these solemn vows, giving worth to each living moment. We can prove that death is in fact meaningful, because it is by death that we determine what is valuable. Romance as I know it is a skull with rose window eyes, burgeoning even as it breaks. And so there is nothing more romantic than telling someone you want them there when you die.
"Switching Off" is a perfect portrait of recognizing what matters. It is the beauty of yearning listening as it strains against fadeout. It'd be a strange song to play at my funeral - bringing the particulars of my death into sharp focus, where wishes may not hold against facts - but I would put it on my funeral playlist anyway, because it so gracefully captures for me the timeless splendor of love. Because we may not get to choose, but we can always hope to choose. And after years of arguing for the concrete value of choice, I am only now beginning to understand the diaphonous, glistening value of hope.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Michael Garfield is intent on demonstrating that everything is equally art, science, and spiritual practice - to revive cultural and individual investment in the renaissance thinking that finds equal value in thinking and feeling, description and experience. Working as a scientific illustrator and essayist by day, and a live electronic musician and performance painter by night, Michael divides his attentions between exploring and celebrating the vast complex vibratory spectacle that is our musical universe. His work has been featured at integralnaked.org, realitysandwich.com, and paullonely.com, and in Cause & Effect Magazine, iMAGE Magazine, and H+. Links to his painting gallery, live and studio recordings, and visionary music blog can be found at myspace.com/michaelgarfield.
Holiday music is inescapable. Daniel J. Levitin on the ancient drive to listen to familiar songs, the psychological effects of music and why 'Little Drummer Boy' is so annoying.
December. Joy, goodwill toward men, long lines, the unwanted wet kiss from a drunk co-worker at the office party. Along with the candy canes and mistletoe, music will be there in the background wherever we go this month, as sonic wallpaper, to put us in the right festive mood. No holiday music is more annoying than the piped-in variety at shopping malls and department stores. Can science explain why the same song we enjoy singing with relatives or congregants drives us to visions of sugar-plum homicide when it blares across the public-address system Chez Target?
Our drive to surround ourselves with familiar music during life cycle events and annual celebrations is ancient in origin. Throughout most of our history as a species, music was a shared cultural experience. Early Homo sapiens coupled music with ritual to infuse special days with majesty and meaning. Before there was commerce, before there was anything to buy, our hunter-gatherer ancestors sat around campfire circles crafting pottery, jewelry and baskets, and they sang. Early humans didn't sit and listen to music by themselves -- music formed an inseparable part of community life. So much so, that when we sing together even today, our brains release oxytocin, a hormone that increases feelings of trust and social bonding.
Music is piped into public places in a cultural echo of shared ritual and ceremony. As advertisers have long known, music can help to oil the wheels of commerce. Songs can stick in our heads, giving the purveyor of a catchy jingle many more minutes of air time than was originally paid for. Whether our brains are reminding us that "When the holidays come along, there's always Coca-Cola" or that maybe we haven't "driven a Ford lately," the jingle rattles around in our synapses in a sometimes endless loop -- a commercial played out in the most private of venues over and over again.
The fact that music does get stuck in our heads -- the Germans call these Ohrwurms, or "ear worms" -- is a key to understanding how human nature evolved. Evolution selected music as an information-bearing medium precisely because it has this stick-in-your-head quality; all of us are descended from ancestors who used music to encapsulate important information. For tens of thousands of years before there was writing, information -- such as which plants were poisonous or where to find fresh water -- was encoded in song. Early Homo sapiens realized that setting words to music made it easier to remember them; the internal constraints of music, the accent structure and meter, not to mention poetic elements such as alliteration and rhyme, made it more difficult to forget the words. Many of us have had the experience of forgetting the words of a song, but we can usually recreate the missing words because there simply aren't that many that will fit. So songs are memorable because they are meant to be, no matter how irritating the alphabet song can become to parents of infants or how likely you are to strangle the next throat that warbles pa-rum-pum-pum- pum.
But if evolution is so smart, why do holiday carols become annoying? When we like a piece of music, it has to balance predictability with surprise, familiarity with novelty. Our brains become bored if we know exactly what is coming next, and frustrated if we have no idea where the song is taking us. Songs that are immediately appealing are not typically those that contain the most surprise. We like them at first and then grow tired of them. Conversely, the music that can provide a lifetime of listening pleasure -- whether it's Bruckner 1 or Zeppelin II -- often requires several listenings to reveal its nuances. And the best music offers surprises with each new listening.
Holiday mall music is irritating because the sort of music that appeals to people of disparate backgrounds and ages is going to tend to be harmonically unsurprising. Unwanted sound in general (think of the incessant drip-drip-drip in the night while you're trying to get to sleep) or unwanted music in particular is not waterboarding, but it is a kind of torture. Don't forget, the American military drove Manuel Noriega from his compound by blasting him 24/7 with AC/DC and Van Halen.
Whether it's dogs barking "Jingle Bells" or Hannah Montana Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, this piped in music is the auditory equivalent of trees and tinsel. Consumer research has shown that music, when it isn't torture, indeed has a significant effect on buying behavior. In a 1999 study, the experimental psychologist Adrian North and his colleagues from the University of Leicester played either German or French classical music in the background at a wine shop. Sales of French and German wines increased when the music from their respective countries was playing.
Another study by the researchers in 2002 played different styles of music -- classical and popular -- and found that restaurant patrons spent on average 10% more per meal when classical music was playing, and more on after-dinner coffee. The classical music created an air of sophistication, reflected in the more sophisticated (higher priced) entrées chosen by the diners.
Retailers this holiday season aren't the only ones trying to influence our mental state with music. Most of us do it at home, too. The average American spends more than four hours a day listening to music, and surveys reveal that we use music to regulate our moods, to differentiate activities such as winding down from gearing up, and to comfort us when we're feeling blue or misunderstood.
It is natural to wonder, if music has played as important a social role as evolutionary biology suggests, what might be the effect of the great and apparent de-socialization of music we are seeing today with the proliferation of personal music players (or what Lisa Simpson calls the "MyPod"). People are spending more time listening in the privacy of their own minds -- did you notice all the earbuds on athletes at the Chinese Olympics? Maybe earbuds are the real Scrooges, cutting us off from others' joy.
We are living in a time of unprecedented nonsocial access to music. The average 14-year-old will hear more music in a year than his great grandfather would have in a lifetime. Virtually every song ever recorded in the history of the world is available on the Internet somewhere. Thanks to intrepid musical explorers, even rare, indigenous and pre-industrial music is now available. Cultures that have been cut off from industrialization and Western influence have had their music preserved, and by their own accounts, it may have been unchanged for many centuries, giving us a window into the music of our ancestors.
The diversity of our musical legacy includes music made on instruments believed to be thousands of years old and on instruments invented just this week; music played on power tools; an album of Christmas carols sung (well, croaked) by frogs. So although we listen alone, we are listening to more music and it is more diverse. Its hard to find fault with digital and online media that put us more in control of what we listen to than we have at, say, the shopping mall. And on the social side, the growth of peer-to-peer (P2P) and other file-sharing communities has restored the communal, human joy of sharing and discovering music we like with others of similar mind and taste.
Holiday tunes are supposed to get us feeling at least a bit religious or spiritual, aren't they? Historically they have worked well in this way. Music's role in religious and spiritual ceremonies may be as old as religion itself. Although human religions differ markedly from one another, all religious rituals are characterized by a demarcation of time and place -- on this day we stand here in this special spot, or interact with sacred objects that we don't normally interact with -- and by the reciting of music or text that is designed to take us out of ourselves, out of routine, and uplift us with higher thoughts. Ritual and religious music helps to differentiate this day or activity from the rest of our secular activities. Because we tend to hear these songs only during this season, they serve as a unique memory cue, unlocking a neural flood of memories related to the holidays.
So give that guy from sales down the hall a break if he gets too friendly at the office party. Holiday music is signaling that this is a different time and place. It's sonic mistletoe. Maybe all he needs is some good file sharing.
Known in English as "Silent Night," "Stille Nacht" was written by Austrian priest Joseph Mohr and Franz Gruber. They performed the song at a Christmas mass in 1818 accompanied by guitar, and the tune later spread across Europe.
Several well-known tunes emerged from films of the 1940s and '50s. Irving Berlin's "White Christmas," sung by Bing Crosby in the 1942 "Holiday Inn," has become the most recorded holiday song to date, with more than 500 versions.
"Jingle Bells," copyrighted in 1857 by James Pierpont (uncle of J.P. Morgan), was originally not a holiday song at all. It was written for a Thanksgiving church service, as legend has it, and was so popular, it was performed again at Christmas.
The "Singing Cowboy" Gene Autry initially balked at recording "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," thinking it didn't fit his image. His wife convinced him otherwise, and the 1949 song became his biggest seller.
The creative arts and their expression have always been a crossroads where spirituality and religiosity clash.
Christmas Eve, 1818 at the church of St. Nicholas in Oberndorf, Austria was probably anything but a ‘silent night, holy night’ in many quarters. As the legend goes, Father Joseph Mohr and organist Franz Gruber put the classic Christmas lyric for Silent Night together with a melody to meet the need for music for the holiday celebration after the church organ malfunctioned and could not be repaired in time for services. According to the traditional account, the original rendition of the now beloved hymn was performed at the Christmas Eve Mass to the accompaniment of Gruber’s guitar and ‘made a deep impact’ on the parishioners.
Closer to the less romanticized truth – as any pastor may attest – is the version of the story that reports that half the congregation probably left the church in protest over the abrupt change in musical styles, and the other half blamed Father Mohr for irresponsibly neglecting the repair of the treasured organ. That Silent Night so long ago was probably filled with more than a few self-righteous cries from church-goers so entrenched in tradition that this musical hiccup was proof positive that ‘God’s Spirit has departed the church’!
Sound cynical? Maybe, but surveys of the church always indicate that we trend behind culture in embracing creative change by 15 to 20 years, that most churches are stuck in traditions and styles that make no sense to spiritually hungry people who have no church affiliation or background, and that – particularly when it comes to expression through the creative arts – as one observer in a recent poll commented: (Christians) “are judgmental, arrogant…they never bother figuring out what other people actually think. They just like to hear themselves talk about their own opinions.”
Enough. Are you an artist – musician, indie film maker, poet or writer, graphic/visual artist or performer - who’s found that a typical church environment isn’t the easiest place to find avenue for creative expression? Are you looking for a place to be an artist that happens to be a Christian, rather than simply being a ‘Christian artist’?
Are you a person who’s unconvinced and uncommitted to the Christian faith but open to shedding the idea of distorted religious experience in favor of finding personal faith discovered through a process of getting to know creative people of faith in a comfortable and agenda-free environment?
If so, join us this Christmas season for a fresh take on a classic idea – maybe our Creator is totally into creativity and maybe, just maybe…He’s outside the box this year – including the traditional Christmas box!
From all of us at RockOm, we wanted to simply say Happy Holidays. Whether you celebrate Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or Christmas (or something else!), may the season be bright, may it bring you closer to Truth and throughout this time may you, as we often say on the RockOm podcast, live a beautiful melody and inspire harmony all around you.
We're grateful for each of you and send our thoughts and prayers to you and yours. May there indeed be "peace on earth, goodwill toward men." Many blessings!
Chris Birkett has been involved in producing, engineering, writing and playing music since the 1970s. His collaborations have sold more than 100 million records world-wide over the last 30 years, winning two Ampex Golden Reel awards and many gold and platinum discs for his Production/Engineering work. He has a new album entitled Freedom which includes this week's RockOm Featured Track, "Fly." In addition, be sure to listen to this week's Podcast for an interview with Chris Birkett.
Featured Track: "Fly"
"This song was inspired by the struggle of the Cathares in Southwest France. The message is that in European society we are now relatively free to follow whatever teaching we want. I used the word fly because it is linked to the Cathar symbol the 'Colombe' or dove. The song also features an excellent performance from David Hykes of the harmonic choir." (Chris Birkett)
The best in contemporary Catholic music gathered on Friday, Dec. 5 at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for “Rock Out Poverty,” a benefit event for struggling families and individuals in the Cleveland area. Award-winning artists like Steve Angrisano, ValLimar Jansen and Matt Maher were among the many performers who contributed their talents for the concert. All the musicians who participated are affiliated with spiritandsong.com, OCP’s contemporary music division.
“Times are tough and getting tougher, and people are feeling that pinch,” said Sarah Hart (pictured), one of the popular artists who took the stage. “Jesus said the greatest commandment after loving God was to love our neighbor. This is a wonderful opportunity to let those neighbors who need a hand know that they are not alone and that they are loved.”
All goals for the charity event were met or exceeded. Many of the thousands of people in Cleveland for the National Conference on Catholic Youth Ministry made their way from the Convention Center to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The 1,000 pre-sale tickets were sold out and over 200 additional tickets were sold at the door. After the first set at the concert, a check for $10,000 was presented to Catholic Charities of Cleveland by event co-sponsors spiritandsong.com, RCL Benzinger, the Diocese of Cleveland’s Youth and Young Adult Ministry and Catholic Youth Organization office.
Other top artists who took the stage were Josh Blakesley, Tom Booth, Santiago Fernández, Curtis Stephan, Jesse Manibusan and Who Do You Say I Am.
“I’m thankful to even be part of such an honorable event among so many great artists,” said Blakesley. “It’s the least I could do for such a deserving cause and I’m grateful I could help make a difference.”
The “Rock Out Poverty” fundraiser is just one of the many programs OCP has sponsored or created to serve the greater Catholic community. OCP gives time and resources to a number of different causes, including the following:
* Parish Grants - Since this program’s inception in 2001, more than 450 churches in total have been awarded over $900,000. Parishes in every U.S. diocese have received funds for the purpose of enhancing the worship experience.
* Christmas Giving - Each year, OCP’s Christmas Giving Committee focuses on finding charities in need of extra help around the holidays. Last year, OCP employees donated nearly 5,000 pounds of food to the Oregon Food Bank.
OCP, a not-for-profit publisher of liturgical music and worship resources based in Portland, Oregon, has been in operation for more than 80 years. Worship programs produced by OCP are used in two-thirds of Catholic churches in the United States and are distributed worldwide.
Want to trigger a spiritual experience or simply become a less selfish person? Get lost in meditation, prayer or even a good song, MU researchers say. Doing so, they’ve found, deactivates the part of the brain programmed to focus on your self.
This week's Featured Track of the last week in '08 is from the band Cabin, based in Louisville, KY. Find out more about Cabin in the Featured Track section of the homepage and in this week's podcast (available 12/31) where Cabin band leader Noah Hewitt-Ball shares his thoughts on the creative process, the comparison of Cabin from press and radio to My Morning Jacket, Coldplay, and U2 as well as their personal endorsement from none other than Sufjan Stevens.
Introduction by 
Holiday music is inescapable. Daniel J. Levitin on the ancient drive to listen to familiar songs, the psychological effects of music and why 'Little Drummer Boy' is so annoying.
by Pastor Jim Girdlestone 
The best in contemporary Catholic music gathered on Friday, Dec. 5 at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for “Rock Out Poverty,” a benefit event for struggling families and individuals in the Cleveland area. Award-winning artists like Steve Angrisano, ValLimar Jansen and Matt Maher were among the many performers who contributed their talents for the concert. All the musicians who participated are affiliated with 
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