Ulterior Colors: Secular Hymns, Made for and Chosen by You

Usually we think of hymns as being strictly attached to a formal house of worship. Yet there are hymns still being written that don't require the patronage of the church. They're somewhat agnostic or indifferent to any deity, and secular in that regard. They're not affiliated with a particular religion or philosophy, but can freely explore them. They are the type of songs that touch on the sanctity of spirit as written by Walt Whitman when he says, "I Sing the Body Electric".

The songs can be inspiring, calming, or invigorating. They cross genres in appeal, or aren't easily classified to begin with. While it's good to know the classics, it's even better to know your own classics-- the songs you go to for their capacity to connect you with the current of humanity.

In High School, a friend of mine had a large collection of Beatles record albums that had been passed down to her by an older and very cool brother bound for college. She was devoted to the Beatles, and once, we skipped band practice to go and see Paul McCartney playing in Tucson. Escaping unseen in her mini-truck to the venue, we laughed like bank robbers after a spree. I can still see her perfect white teeth in her shining face, giddily sharing this inherited love of all things Beatles with me, her new friend.

But later, during the brief time I knew her, she became involved in a religious sect that forbade secular music. Standing at my locker on a Monday morning, she eagerly told me about a ritual in which she had participated with the other members by burning all of their secular music, renouncing it. I tensed up as I exchanged my books and listened to her admonishing me to do the same. I'll never forget the intensity in her dark eyes as she said to me, "There are three kinds of music," and pointed her thumb and two fingers as she listed them. "Music written for God, for man, and for the devil."

Apparently these last two categories overlapped to the point that secular music was regarded with the same suspicion and repugnance toward what was deemed Satanic. I didn't argue or answer her at all because the only image in my mind was of all those Beatles albums, bestowed on her as a gift, melting in condemnation. Perhaps I felt like she was renouncing all of humanity, myself included. In my indignant and self-righteous annoyance, I shut my locker and rejected her categories and her judgments.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe, "Godmother of Rock n' Roll" known for blending gospel hymns with secular rhythms, inspiring Elvis Presely, Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard and Johnny Cash. Inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame, 2004. Watch her kick it with her electric guitar solo here. This is what I call a Guitar Hero.

But not completely. When my children grew older, the realm of music became a highly charged subject again. I didn't want them to be stifled, yet not negatively influenced or exploited for their allowance dollars. There is some music that does sound purposefully demonic and it bothers me, but usually the performers are going for a theatrical effect to draw in fans.

As adults, we can see through some of their antics, which gives us a sort of backstage pass where we observe the relative ordinariness of these entertainers who are putting on a show and selling it hard. It's strange to watch these cosmetically frightening people fold back into their everyday lives as husbands and fathers with lawns to mow and health insurance forms to fill out.

I don't like to listen to Screamo or Acid Rock, but I'm not willing to dismiss all of it entirely as evil. Once I read the lyrics to a Screamo song, and it was really just a young man crying from a broken heart. If he had crooned in front of Glen Miller's band, it wouldn't have sounded unstable. The lyrics about his view of society weren't all that different from protest folk songs of the 'Sixties, and no more threatening. I can understand the catharsis of anger that the Screamer might get from screeching and roaring until his veins are popping. What the audience gets from it, I know not.

Following below is a playlist of songs that feel sacred to me--even if they would seem like noise to someone else--because they tap into many varieties of experience, which can be religious or spiritual in effect if not in tone. They weren't written as suitable themes for an indexed hymnal. But when I hear them, I recognize states of being across humanity, both exalted and lowly, that call to me to listen.

The point of my list is not to encourage anyone to like these particular songs, but to encourage the creation of your own list. In the meantime, feel free to come back to this page with some headphones for a private listening booth.