Psalm 40, U2, War and Scripture References

I bought U2’s album War just after its initial release in 1983. The record quickly became one of my new favorites.

Years later, as I grew to collect more Jazz and Classical music, War—like many other Rock-oriented records—was essentially cast aside and listened to only occasionally.

Upon my Christian conversion in 2000, I began culling my record collection. Much of the Rock records were sold off (or even thrown away). But I kept War.

Years later, I pulled the record for a re-listen. Some of the lyrics were seen in a new light. This began when I realized that the final song of the record, “40”, was quite obviously sourcing Psalm 40. See this video here:

After discovering this, I began to listen to and read the other song lyrics anew. One that caught me right away was the following from “Drowning Man”:

Rise up, rise up with wings
Like eagles you’ll run, you’ll run
And not grow weary

I immediately recognized this as a paraphrase of Isaiah 40:31. I then realized that the entire song was loosely based on Scripture. Another rather obvious point of contact is found in these lyrics:

The storms will pass
It won’t be long now
The storms will pass
But my love lasts forever

Bono sings it from God’s perspective: Take my hand; you know I’ll be there, if you can. I’ll cross the sky for your love. I was delighted to find another vlogger who sees this as I do:

And here I originally thought this was a love song from a man to a woman!

Another point of contact finds itself in “Surrender”: If I want to live, I’ve got to die to myself. And the song “Red Light” can be read from a Christian perspective quite easily.

This all surely comes from Bono’s and other band members’ Irish Catholic upbringing.¹

After my conversion I’ve found a number of songs with an underlying Christian message. And I’ve found others that probably were not originally intended to be understood in a Christian context, yet I’ve adapted them that way nonetheless. I now have a different worldview and see things from a different perspective than I previously had. I thank God for that.

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¹ And, yes, I’m well aware of Bono’s subsequent (to this record’s release) questionable associations with globalists, etc. and his questionable beliefs, but they are beyond the scope of this post. It would be anachronistic to impose later views upon this 1983 release.

Traversing the Via Dolorosa with Shostakovich, Vasks, and Schnittke

Different people grieve differently. Some busy themselves with busyness. More productively, some write. Some write music. Some listen to music that some have written as catharsis for their pain.

And some enjoy listening to such heart-rending music—even when not necessarily in distress. That would describe me. When grieving, I concurrently feel the composer’s agony. When I’m not, it’s as if I’m empathically sharing in their burdens (Galatians 6:2).

One of my favorite ECM New Series releases, Dolorosa features—as the title suggests—themes of death, sorrow, and lamentation. It includes one work each by Dmitri Shostakovich, Pēteris Vasks, and Alfred Schnittke—all from the former Soviet Union. The title of the release appears to be truncated from Vasks’ own “Musica Dolorosa”, with perhaps a nod to the Via Dolorosa (Latin for “sorrowful way”), Jesus’ route to crucifixion. I make these speculations since it is convention to use doloroso (“o” instead of “a” at the end) in musical direction.

Dolorosa – Shostakovich / Vasks / Schnittke
Dennis Russell Davies, cond.; Stuttgart Chamber Orch.

These three works for string orchestra are appropriately somber, though at times dramatic, adequately expressing the subjects’ range of emotions.

The disc begins with Rudolf Barshai’s (1967) adaptation of Shostakovich’s Eighth String Quartet. The composer himself approved of Barshai’s arrangement, agreeing to rename it Chamber Orchestra op. 110bis. I much prefer the orchestral version to the quartet, as it adds weightiness to the original, better conveying its inherent bleakness. Shostakovich dedicated the composition “[t]o the memory of the victims of fascism and war”. At the time the original quartet was written (summer 1960), the composer had succumbed to persistent pressures to join the communist party, causing great inner turmoil, according to musicologist Isaak Glikman, as per the accompanying liner notes. Apparently the composer’s dedication included himself as a victim.

At just under 25 minutes, this rendition is one of the longest. DRD conducts the second movement, Allegro molto, slower than all other versions I’ve heard (3:38 long), which I find more appropriate, given the inscription and the overall tenor of this arrangement.

The impetus for Vasks’ “Musica dolorosa” was the death of the composer’s sister Marta. Vasks’ grief evidences itself in the climactic section beginning at around 5:50 of the single movement piece. The pain conveyed becomes almost unbearable until about 8:00 when the discordance begins to subside, seguing into a dark melancholy. This subsequently gives rise to what seems to be a reluctant acceptance of this tragedy. As much as I like the Shostakovich, this is my favorite piece on the disc.

Closing the set is Yuri Bashmet’s orchestral arrangement of Schnittke’s String Trio (1985), rebranded Trio Sonata (1987). This work is the least somber of the three, for the Alban Berg Foundation commissioned the original string trio for the occasion of the 100th anniversary of Berg’s birth. However, within a few weeks of the string trio’s premiere, the composer would suffer his first of many strokes, thus curtailing his activity for the remainder of his days. Of the piece, Gerard McBurney opines in the liner notes: “It is music which strongly suggests an elegiac farewell to the past, as though the composer knew he were facing impending and radical change…” Schnittke would die one year after this disc was released.

Listening to this recording can be cathartic, as it has been for me many times. I suppose, though, that the listener’s experience would pale in comparison to the emotions felt by the composers at the time of writing—or shortly thereafter in the case of Schnittke’s revision by Bashmet.