While working in my study, I usually have Calm Radio playing in the background, as it is right now. Featuring dozens of genre channels, Calm Radio’s niche is expressed in the name—the music isn’t blaring, driving, and overpowering. Some channels have vocals, but I don’t think I’ve ever listened to any of them.
I generally opt for the “Peaceful Piano and Guitar” channel because it provides some quiet, relaxing background music that facilitates study instead of distracting from it. Very, very rarely does a tune come on that has lyrics I would recognize. That’s important for studying, since even an instrumental version of a song with lyrics I know brings those to mind. Too distracting.
It doesn’t sound very spiritual, but I generally don’t even opt for the “Christian Instrumental” channel for that very reason. I’ve tried it, and the music is indeed calm and unobtrusive, but I know too many of the lyrics and end up distracted by them.
With that as a background, I was studying away recently with “Peaceful Piano and Guitar” playing softly and was suddenly distracted. As soon as the first few notes played, I recognized the tune and turned up the volume.
Vermont
“Montclair” came on, and for the next almost four minutes, I allowed myself a break simply to listen and enjoy the melody.
The tune was written and performed by pianist Robin Spielberg. It’s one of eleven original songs on her debut album from the mid-1990s and remains my favorite. Perhaps because of the effect—the effect it had on me in my study on a Thursday afternoon.
I couldn’t tell you what the weather was like outside at that moment, even though I stared out the windows while “Montclair” played. But the song sent me back in time and far away from here.
I landed in Burlington, Vermont the summer of 1996, I believe. I’m not sure if I’d even heard of Robin Spielberg before, but I saw an ad for a concert she was doing at a venue overlooking Lake Champlain. Thinking it’d be a nice date night with my bride, I bought a couple of tickets.
Was a beautiful Vermont evening, the music providing a perfect complement. I’m quite sure Robin played most, if not all her songs from Heal of the Hand, her debut album. But for some reason, “Montclair” resonated. For the past 25 years, hearing the melody transports me to that evening and more.
While listening, I see images of the Lake Champlain shore line, the Adirondacks, the small harbor, glorious sunsets, sailboats gliding across the water—scenes of rare tranquility.
The power of a familiar song to evoke memories long forgotten is amazing!
Church
I grew up attending church from the time I was knee-high to a hymnbook. My first time attending church was shortly after coming home from the hospital, making a grand appearance in the nursery at First Baptist Church of Litchfield, Ohio.
Naturally, therefore, I’ve been exposed to the hymns of the faith for over six decades. Because I’ve heard or sung them so many times in so many places, not very many elicit specific memories. But a few do.
The children’s ditty, “Zachaeus Was a Wee Little Man,” resurrects scenes of the downstairs classroom at First Baptist in Wellington, Ohio.
We sang the tune in our kids club, Whirlybirds (for younger children) and Jet Cadets (for older). All us Whirlybirds had our little beanies with, yes, whirling propellers on the top. And if we recited verses and stuff, we could get pins to add to our beanie!
“His Eye Is on the Sparrow” is a song of encouragement and comfort to the Christian.
Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come?
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
When Jesus is my portion, my constant friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
I sing because I’m happy; I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
– Civilla D. Martin
If I think about the lyrics, the song is encouraging. But to be honest, the tune by default sends my brain to a scene from my childhood at the same church in Wellington.
One of the church ladies chose the song as a solo. But for some reason—the logic escapes me, here—she was wearing a hat (as ladies typically did in the mid-1960s) that, of all things, had a bird sticking out on a short, thin wire. Problem is, when she got the last line in the chorus and came to “…sparrow…”, the music drops an octave—from a high-C on “spar-” to a middle-C on “-row”—and she’d hold out that middle-C…bobbing her head just enough to make that bird in her hat wobble so much everyone could see! Same thing on all three stanzas. The poor congregation had a terrible time holding in the laughter, and poor Mrs. Soloist hadn’t a clue.
I can’t hear the gospel song “He Could Have Called 10,000 Angels” without effect, either. Nothing humorous. It’s just one of the songs my mom would sing from time to time as a solo in church, and she did so with all the emotion the text entails.
He could have called 10,000 angels to destroy the world and set Him free.
He could have called 10,000 angels…but He died alone for you and me.
– Ray Overholt
Reminds me of her love for singing—in church choirs, as a soloist, in duets, and even in Sweet Adelines—and, now that she’s gone to heaven, of so much more.
Christmas
We’re in the thick of Christmas season 2021, and so many of the traditional Christmas songs are like the hymns of the church—heard so often each season for years and years. Few prompt specific memories.
“Silver Bells” certainly isn’t a hymn of Christmas, but is a song of the season that transports me to the downtown city streets of Cleveland, Ohio. Before the advent of mega shopping malls, shoppers headed to the downtown stores looking for gifts. One December evening in the ‘60s, my dad, older brother, and I sought out gifts for mom. Walking from one store to another, “Silver Bells” played from somewhere.
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks…
For sure!
And on every street corner you’ll hear
Silver bells, silver bells….
Yep.
Approaching one of those corners, the lines rang out,
Strings of street lights
Even stop lights
Blink of bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures….
– Jay Livingston, Ray Evans
To this day, I see the decorated store windows and stop lights of downtown Cleveland.
The most widely translated Christmas carol of all time, “Silent Night,” is a staple of our church’s Christmas Candlelight Service, so it brings up a few memorable moments—a father-son guitar accompaniment and lighting individual candles, to mention a couple.
But the strongest memory elicited by “Silent Night” takes me once again to Wellington. I can’t recall why, but for some reason my brother and I had grandma’s old record player in our bedroom—perhaps because it was a huge room! But there were only a couple of records along with it. One of them was a scratchy 78 rpm recording of “Silent Night,” sung by I don’t know whom. Don’t ask me why I remember that seemingly forgettable experience.
It’s the power of a song, I suppose.
Psalms
The psalmist Asaph spoke of this power in Psalm 77. And, by the way, remember that the psalms are the lyrics to ancient songs—a biblical “hymnal,” if you will.
But something awful was going on in Asaph’s life. He was so troubled he couldn’t sleep or speak. But then he said,
Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.” (v. 6)
What follows may very well be the text of that song:
Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable?
Has His steadfast love forever ceased?
Are His promises at an end for all time?
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has He in anger shut up His compassion?
– Psalm 77:7-9
And that provoked his memory. The rest of the psalm recalls “the years of the right hand of the Most High…the deeds of the Lord…your wonders of old…your mighty deeds.” His song reminded him that God is holy and great and mighty—a God who doesn’t forget His people.
Sometimes during this Christmas season, when you hear one of those carols or songs you’ve known for years and years, stop for a moment and let the power of song resurrect some good, but forgotten, memories.
And perhaps, too, some eternal, encouraging, divine truths!
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