Tag: Over the Rhine

MIXTAPE: Flamy Grant’s Songs for Healing Gay Religious Trauma

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Welcome to the playlist you probably didn’t have on your bingo card this year: a series of songs spanning from gospel music to ’90s folk to contemporary singer-songwriters, all curated by a drag queen with a number one Christian album under her belt. I’m Flamy Grant, and I’m honored that BGS invited me to share the songs that healed my very gay, very religious trauma.

My first record was called Bible Belt Baby, so I know a thing or two about growing up in the shadow of a religious fervor that wants boys to be boys, girls to be girls, and gays to keep it in the closet. Here are a few of the songs that helped me not only to come out, but to let this little light of mine keep shining in the faces of a lot of people who’d prefer it were hidden under a bushel. Not today, gatekeepers. Not today. – Flamy Grant

“If You Ever Leave” – Flamy Grant

Oh, hello darling. I’m a drag queen with wares to sell. Of course I’m starting off this playlist with my new single! It is, at least, very much on topic. This ballad from my forthcoming record, CHURCH, pretty much speaks for itself, but I will offer this one, brief, supplemental thought: if there’s a God demanding your worship, but as you get to know him you discover that you are capable of loving people better and more completely than he is… don’t worship that God. Girl… it’s a trap.

“Undamned” – Over the Rhine

Outside of Amy Grant, no artist has had as much of an impact on me as Ohio-based duo Over the Rhine. Karin and Linford have saved my life ten times over. “I’m not your little lost lamb, God might still get my world undamned.” This song somehow manages to be both defiant (personally, my favorite posture) and repentant. Brazenly owning your apostasy while unabashedly surrendering to a cosmic, supernatural love at the same time? Slay. (Bonus: Lucinda Williams delivers an absolutely divine featured vocal. Undamn me anyday, Over the Rhine.)

“Wrap My Arms Around Your Name” – Sarah Masen

When I was growing up, I was only allowed to listen to Christian music. Sarah Masen was always a bit of a square peg in a round Christian music industry hole, and one of the first songwriters I encountered who addressed the conflict, doubt, and dissonance inherent to the faith everyone else around her was putting such a sheen on.

From the first line, “Mystery’s walking on my head again,” I was hooked on this song about yearning to feel deeply spiritually connected. “Does hallelujah wear the same old face?” Excellent existential question, Sarah. Thanks for giving my teenage angst a place to freely ask it.

“Amy’s Song” – Matt Simons

Back in 2018, I was a worship leader for a queer-affirming church in San Diego and we decided for Pride month that year that we would put on a worship service that was 100% produced, led, and delivered by our queer members. I even wanted to make sure every song we sang had been written (or co-written, in this case) by a card-carrying member of the alphabet mafia. I found “Amy’s Song” and loved the music and the message: “Does your God really give a damn” about who I love?

The twist for me was in discovering that one of the song’s co-writers, and its namesake, Ames, and I had played a show together years before in when we were both closeted and going by different stage names. I led “Amy’s Song” at our church that Sunday and Ames and I have since reconnected online. We’ve even been talking about writing something together one of these days. “Amy’s Song 2: The Ballad of Flamy,” perhaps? (Pro tip: after you listen, go watch the music video and making-of mini-doc, both on Matt Simons’ YouTube page. Bring Kleenex.)

“breathe again” – Joy Oladokun

Honestly, it was hard to pick just one song from Joy Oladokun’s extensive repertoire of musical remedies for the religiously wronged. She is both plainspoken and poignant, capturing the heartbreak so many queer people experience when we grow up in families and cultures that suffocate us in a shame-inducing, manipulative desecration of divine love. Joy’s voice in this song just melts me, and it’s a breath of fresh air for the closeted kid I used to be when she uses it to sing, “If I hold my breath until I’m honest, will I ever breathe again?”

“Someday You’ll Wake Up Okay” – Spencer LaJoye

This is inner child work of the highest order and nobody translates the specific into the universal with such clarity as my friend Spencer. “You won’t hear me, but I’ll think it from the future.” Oof. Also, who knew healing your inner child could be such a bop?

“Holy Sunlight” – Steven Delopoulos

Something about the music of Stephen Delopoulos, who fronted the ’90s Christian band Burlap to Cashmere, just feels reverent. It’s like high-church Paul Simon. This song reminds me that even when we’re leaving, we’re really not. “Pack my luggage, fake a smile/ Don’t cry, we’re all connected like the ocean sea.”

“Faith” – Semler

No one is more emblematic of a reckoning for the Christian music industry to me than my pal Semler, who was the first out queer artist to have a number one Christian record a couple years back. In “Faith,” they are eye-level with the abusers of power in the church they’re confronting. “Don’t pretend I’m not your body.” GOOSEBUMPS, HUN. And it’s a song that somehow doubles as a powerful worship anthem of sorts for the disenfranchised? We’re here, we’re queer, and we still have faith, dear. I live.

“Shiloh” – Audrey Assad

I had stopped listening to CCM by the time Audrey got her record deal with juggernaut Christian label Sparrow Records back in 2010, so I missed most of her early career. But during the pandemic, I learned about this (wildly-talented) artist that Christian media outlets were criticizing for “backsliding.” Don’t tempt me with a good time, I said. Audrey and I have become friendly on social media since then, and she’s so much more than a good time. She’s a healer. This song in particular patches up a new part of me every time I hear it. God bless the ones who leave the church but never stop providing care for souls.

“The Way You Get Found” – Story & Tune

I’m proud to say I was the first person to ever hear this excellent song, in the basement of the San Diego house I shared during pandemic with its writers, Karyn and Ben. The line that got me then still gets me today: “I bless the way you carve your name on the gate-kept inner sanctums where they said you couldn’t stay.” Absolute pros, these two, crafting an artful turn of phrase that not only perfectly fits the demanding cadence of the song, but delivers a well-placed gut punch to folks who know what it’s like to stand up to religious bullies when they say we can’t be on their playground.

“Jacob from the Bible” – Jake Wesley Rogers

This song came through my Spotify algorithm one day and stopped me in my tracks. Of course, now Jake is a world famous colorful crooner and besties with Elton John, etc., but when this song came out, I was able to reach him online and successfully petitioned him to be on my podcast. You can still listen to that conversation. We talk about this song, where it came from, what it meant to each of us, and why Jake should definitely be our first gay president. For me, it feels like a life-giving extraction from all the oppressive weight of religious expectation. “I don’t want to be held down by a heavenly man.” Makes me think of Jacob from the Bible when he defeated the angel in an all night wrestling match. (Hot!) And honey, wrestling with God? Relatable.

“Testify to Love” – Wynonna

Okay, this might be the only bonafide CCM hit in the mix. It was originally recorded by Christian supergroup Avalon and if you were anywhere near Christianity in 1997/98, this song is In. Your. Bones. Every once in a while when I’m playing to an audience of a certain age — the ones who were in youth group about the same time as me — I’ll bust this out as a cover during my set and, well, let’s just say it’s so cute to watch half the room have a dramatic That’s So Raven-style flashback. But I propose to you that at the end of the day, it’s a gay song. I mean, the opening lyric is, “All the colors of the rainbow!” It’s all about how love wins!

What really seals the deal is Wynonna Judd’s countrified cover of the song from a very special episode of Touched by an Angel. I dare you to listen and not agree that Christianity peaked in 1997 and we should frankly just ignore everything that’s come out of evangelicalism since this song ruled the airwaves.

“House of Spirits” – Allman Brown

London-based singer-songwriter Allman Brown taps right into all of our generational trauma and father wounds with this achingly gorgeous spiritual about how it feels to sit vigil by the deathbed of a parent who “damned my soul to the fires.” As someone with a damaged and deeply strained relationship with an ultra-religious father who’s still alive, this song gives me a glimpse into the journey ahead, and I find myself praying along with Allman that one day that house of spirits “will feel like home.”

“What You Heard” – Amy Grant

An Amy Grant song on this list was inevitable, but far less likely is a song from a parent who learned better communication skills by going to family therapy with her kids. But that’s exactly what we have in this, the first new song from the Queen of Christian Pop in a decade. I saw Amy perform it last year and she told the story of how group therapy with her family helped her understand that some of the ways she thought she was communicating love to her kids weren’t exactly landing that way on their ears. It’s the kind of thing most survivors of religious trauma can only dream of: a God-fearing parent gaining perspective later in life and using therapy tools to change behavior? A better relationship through effective communication? May we all be so fortunate. But even if we’re not, my favorite diva (she would never call herself that, so someone has to) has gifted us with this beautifully-written song that shows it’s possible. Amy and amen.

“May I Suggest” – Susan Werner

I’ll leave you with the best benediction that’s ever been spoken (sung) over me. I wish someone had invited me to the Susan Werner party years ago, so I’m making it my mission to bring as many plus-ones as possible now that I’m here. Actually, in a way, I’ve been here since high school, I just didn’t know it. The first time I heard this song was as a cover by Ellis Paul and Vance Gilbert back in the late ’90s, but I just assumed it was theirs. Then about a year ago, a friend sent me a track by Susan called “Our Father,” in which she expertly/hilariously reimagines the Lord’s Prayer (“Deliver us from those who think they’re you”). I was hooked and started working my way through her catalog, but it wasn’t until I saw her live at the Kerrville Folk Festival earlier this year that I learned she was the composer of this song I loved when I was 17.

When she sat down at a baby grand and soulfully set out to convince a field full of festival-goers that “this is the best part of your life,” I openly wept. It’s tempting after you escape from oppressive, high-demand religion to fall into the trap of regret for a lost youth and years of missed chances. Susan invites us to consider the other side of that coin: thanks to the trauma you’ve survived, “Inside you know what’s yours to finally set right.” The next time Susan is anywhere near you, drag yourself (yes I said DRAG) and everyone you love to the show — and hope that she sings this benediction over you, too.

Photo Credit: Sydney Valiente

Over the Rhine Hold on to Hope in ‘Love & Revelation’

Posted on by Editor

In the 30 years since Karin Bergquist and Linford Detwiler made their debut as Over the Rhine, the husband-and-wife duo have established themselves as thoughtful storytellers painting cinematic scenes with their poetic lyrics, pastorally beautiful soundscapes and Karin’s sultry vocal delivery. On Love & Revelation, Bergquist and Detwiler take a nuanced approach, exploring grief as it relates to saying goodbye to loved ones and questioning what it means to hold on to hope as an American in 2019.

BGS: Love & Revelation begins with “Los Lunas,” a song about saying goodbye to a longtime love. That theme of dealing with loss seems to open up and run throughout the album.

Detwiler: A lot of what we’re processing on our new record is this idea that certain things are carried with you for a lifetime. The record opens with the words “I cried.” It sort of tips our hand to the fact that there’s a fair bit of grief on this record. When I mentioned that to my 87-year-old mother, she said, “Well, Linford, that sounds like the Psalms.” All of us like to sort of tout our roots and older music that we’re listening to. I like the fact that my mom immediately went to the oldest songbook that I know of, which would be The Psalms in the Old Testament and immediately began talking about how so many of those songs and poems begin with some kind of lament.

The lyrics of “Los Lunas,” like so many Over the Rhine songs, have a cinematic quality, though the specific details of what led to these two people parting ways in that song isn’t clear. Other songs’ meanings seem to open up after repeated listens. They paint pictures that don’t necessarily solidify into something that can be explained using literal description. How do you pull that off?

I don’t like listeners to feel lost and sort of at sea when they’re listening to our songs. I like them to have some sense of what they’re participating in. [Laughs] That being said, our friend Joe Henry talks about “abiding the mystery” and sort of welcoming and recognizing the mystery that’s part of the process and art of songwriting. There is something on an intuitive level that’s sometimes being communicated.

As somebody that’s marking 30 years of writing, recording and life on the road now, I do find myself trying to simplify my writing. What is the most concise, direct way I can break a heart wide open? [Laughs] I hope our songs are like that. There’s something immediate that invites anybody on any level to enter in and begin participating, but I hope there’s some fine print in there, too, where you have to work a little harder.

There’s a line in “Let You Down” that describes grief as “love with nowhere to go,” which really stopped me in my tracks. What inspired that concept?

I was thinking about some friends and family members that were struggling. So many of us have been called upon to lay loved ones to rest. We have friends who have lost children or friends and family that are facing chronic illness or some kind of daunting cancer diagnosis. Just from my perspective now, I realize it’s so much more important just to show up and be with somebody and listen. I don’t necessarily come from the orientation that everything can be fixed.

So, that concept of grief being a kind of love with no place to go, that’s a conversation I’ve had with people that have lost children. There is this sense of holding this love for somebody and not knowing really what to do with it. At this point, if you lose a child, that’s not something that you should get over. You should carry that with you. That’s part of your life experience. That’s something that you’re going to think about every day.

Another thing about “Let You Down” is you, Linford, are singing a full-on duet with Karin, which I don’t think I’ve heard before on an Over the Rhine album. You’re also singing together on “Betting on the Muse.” What led you to step out as a vocalist after all these years?

I had a real stumbling block about singing. I didn’t like my voice. I’m sure some smart therapist could help me figure out where the seed of that was planted. It’s not like I didn’t want to sing, necessarily. I just didn’t enjoy it, and it didn’t feel good. So, Karin was very patient with me and encouraged me for years to remain open to the idea of singing more.

I remember five or six years ago, there was a little bit of a breakthrough, and I said, “Well, actually, when I sing for any extended period of time, I have some physical pain.” She said, “Well, why don’t you try singing through that and just see what’s on the other side?” I accepted the fact that maybe something painful was part of this process, and at some point, I began to let go of some of that and began to tentatively sing some harmony with Karin. It’s so amazing to sing harmony with somebody.

Karin wrote the title song, “Love & Revelation,” which has a very propulsive feel to it. Lyrically, it conveys a belief that even with all this grief, hope can still break through. Tell me about creating the music to complement those lyrics.

When Karin and [drummer] Jay Bellerose began sort of leaning into the song in the studio, we all just sort of backed away slowly because it felt like something so vivid and complete was happening, which is the voice, acoustic guitar and drums. So, I thought it was a powerful moment on the record. It’s very unadorned. It’s kind of that righteous parade and Karin’s voice, and that’s it.

I think a lot of Americans are feeling a little off balance, to put it mildly, and feeling the need to be sort of vigilant and a very necessary instinct to sort of stand against almost a daily tide of cruelty and deception that’s coming at us. We’re looking around and saying, “Well, this is not who I believe we are.” In this kind of environment, sometimes I think we forget to circle back to what it is we actually do stand for, or believe in. So, Karin sort of planted this reminder that actually it comes back around to love and revelation. I like that idea of remembering what we’re for.

That’s a pretty evolved way to look at what’s going on in America in 2019. How do you get to that point of making an album that goes beyond just running around screaming with your hair on fire about injustice?

I was not opposed to recording a protest record. Maybe on some level it is, but it’s interesting that the record we really ended up making was a record that acknowledged that we are grieving. It’s a record that acknowledges that people we love are hurting, and it’s engaging that on a heart level. It’s a little bit less about being on the street corner with a megaphone. I did write some megaphone songs, and maybe they’ll come back around. At some point, speaking softly can be just as powerful as yelling.

As always, you and Karin are credited as solo writers on most of your songs, but you seem to be on the same page in grappling with these ideas of grief and hope. Does that through-line in the theme happen organically because you’re living and working together as husband and wife?

We are sharing a lot of these experiences, and our lives feel pretty integrated. After two or three decades of trying to write a good song, eventually I begin to think, well, what I’m really trying to write is a good life. It becomes kind of inseparable. So, Karin and I, yeah, she’s a trusted editor. It’s a real gift to have somebody close by to bounce ideas off of and process ideas with. We are one of them there musical couples. It’s too late to turn back now. [Laughs]

2019 marks the 30th anniversary of your debut album. What conversations is that milestone bringing up for you and Karin?

We’re thinking a lot about sustainability. One thing we’re working on is restoring a historic barn on our old property, and we’re hoping to open our own 200-seat venue in the next couple of years. We’ve begun hosting our own music festival, and sort of inviting this community that have found our music to begin coming to us more. One nice thing about this possibility of owning our own music venue is we could offer some concerts throughout the year where we go back and take a fresh look at some of these records we made 20 years ago or whenever.

Some of the songs we still carry with us and play on a pretty regular basis, but we’re not really a nostalgia act. We’ll be very focused on Love & Revelation this year, and that’s the way people who engage our music want it. They are hungry for more.

Photo credit: Kylie Wilkerson

LISTEN: Rosanne Cash and others with the Cincinnati Pops Orchestra, ‘Camptown Races’

Posted on by Editor

What do you get when you combine Rosanne Cash, Joe Henry, Dom Flemons, Aoife O'Donovan, Over the Rhine, the Comet Bluegrass All-Stars, and the Cincinnati Pops Orchestra with the songs Stephen Foster? A performance — and now an album — that celebrates the earliest days of the Great American Songbook in a whole new way. Conducted by John Morris Russell, the Pops and guests worked through 17 of Foster's compositions — including "O! Susannah," "Amazing Grace," "My Old Kentucky Home," and "Camptown Races" — over the course of two nights at Cincinnati's historic Music Hall. The recordings have now been gathered up as the American Originals LP.

Artist: Rosanne Cash with the Cincinnati Pops Orchestra
Song: “Camptown Races”
Album: American Originals
Release Date: August 28

In Their Words: “These live performances with the Cincinnati Pops were, in a way, terrifying. With a rock band, if you miss your cue, the band will just hang out and vamp and wait for you. With an orchestra … not so much. If you miss your cue, you better find a way to get back inside the arrangement or the ship will sail without you. However, it's nice to know I still have the ability to be terrified after 35 years of doing this. As my daughter Chelsea told me, 'Mom, if you're nervous, it means you still care about what you do.' I still care. This finale (in the concerts, as well as on the album) was a culmination of all the nerves, all the adrenaline, and all the energy in that room. When I hit the stage with my dear friends and fellow musicians, the nerves flew away and all 100+ of us on stage just let loose. See you on the ship.” — Rosanne Cash

“The music that [Stephen Foster] heard in Cincinnati, he transposed and created the music of America. And it changed us and brought us together as a nation. And it continues to bring us together — sharing sorrows, joys, hopes, and merriment. He captured both the pathos and tragedy, but also the grandeur, the celebration, and the spirit of America in all of his songs. And there’s one song, in particular, that captures the great merriment that we all feel here. Made famous by Foghorn Leghorn, here is ‘Camptown Races.’” — John Morris Russell, conductor