Tracks:
- Central Theme
- ¡Alarma!
- Big Time/Big Deal
- Props
- My Room
- Faces to the Window
- Cloak and Dagger
- Colored By
- C & D Reprise
- Thru the Speakers
- Hit Them
- Baby Game
- Shedding the Mortal Coil
- Endless Summer
- Walls of Doubt
- Ghost of the Heart
Just a few months after the belated Horrendous Disc hit the streets, DA released their "new" record, ¡Alarma! Yes, it's Spanish for "alarm," but no, it's not the band's foray into the untapped Latino Christian Music Market. Instead, it builds on Terry Taylor's growing disquiet from the previous record over what he believes is the self-absorbed delirium of the modern American Christian church. So intense and prophetic is his conviction that he would write four albums' worth of music and an equally-sprawling allegorical novella that would all be bound together as The ¡Alarma! Chronicles.
Volume One of the series presents the message in the latest stage of the band's never-ending stylistic evolution: That of a lean, edgy, hyperactive New Wave machine. While the music is still guitar-driven, the beats and tempos are now tight, fast, and angular, and the group is reduced to a quartet: Mark Cook is gone, although there are some rudimentary synths played by an uncredited member. And Alex MacDougal makes a cameo appearance on the title track, but the bulk of the playing is the Terry, Jerry, Marty, and Ed line-up. It's hard to believe this was the same group that just five years prior recorded "Shotgun Angel," but there's not a hint of twang to be heard on this here roundup...er, rave.
The album kicks off with "Central Theme," a song that sets the stage for all that follows with its worshipful insistence on "Jesus in the center," but whose creepy melodies and manic riffs also let us know that this is not going to be a rousing gospel sing or even a contemporary pop chestnut, but a jagged and bracing series of songs that may or may not leave a pleasant taste in our mouth. The title track, a classic merging of the melodic power of Horrendous with the new modern sound, is the "prophetic theme" of the album, taking on religious leaders and entities who occupy the dying cities and ignore those who are "turning away." The alarm of God's grief for the church's insularity rings throughout this and the next three records, as DA calls her out on her consumerism, complacency, and religiosity, to name a few or her maladies. Not something you want to play for Sunday Morning, for sure.
Track by track, Taylor & Co. takes on all of the American church's failures to follow Jesus' two greatest commands: "Love the Lord with all your heart," and "Love your neighbor as yourself." The former is taken on in songs like "Baby Game," that confronts spiritual immaturity, and another classic, "Walls of Doubt," one of the few truly upbeat songs, that encourages the listener that "It's alright/You can let go now/Love is the master's plow/Crash down the walls of doubt." The church's mandate of loving "the least of these" is addressed in "Faces to the Window," a song that takes the opposite approach to "Central Theme" in that it presents the heavy message of "little bitty beggars with great big eyes" crying for help to a bright and happy melody. "Hit Them" also speaks with killing the skeptical doubter with kindness instead of "The Big Book." Then there's a few shots at commercialism: "Big Time/Big Deal" talks about the seemingly never-ending quest of the performer to "make it big"--be they "secular" or "sacred." And "Through the Speakers" takes on the old DA burden of spiritual manipulation through false teaching, with an appropriately spooky melody. Yeah, they never really stopped preaching, but now they're smarter and more relevant with their polemics, and the loopy stylistics of the music make a much more nuanced connection with the listener.
This first installment of the ¡Alarma! cycle is successful in showing the band's chameleon-like ability to adapt to modern sounds and still proclaim the same urgent message of following Jesus not just inside the sanctuary, but also in the streets. It inaugurated what was the most artistically active and epic period of the band's history, and also heralded of even more changes to come for the band.
Tracks:
- A Child (In Everyone's Heart)
- Little Ones
- Spend My Life With You
- I Belong to You
- In Your Keep
- Just a Moment Away
- A Royal Commandment
- Sunday School
- Pulling Down
- Send Out Your Light
After recording the deep and expansive The Master and The Musician, Phil took a couple of years off from the studio, relocated to Kansas City, and entered into what he himself referred to as his "middle period," an apt if humble description of his work during the greater part of the 1980's. There was some great work during these years, and a good portion of it has stood the test of time and stands as some of his best work. But more often than not it was just decent, well-played, tame gospel pop, nothing really impressive or mind-blowing. And really, it makes sense when you consider the man was settling down, starting a family, and generally putting his music, if not on the back burner, at least on medium heat.
The first product of this epoch was Ph'lip Side, something of a spin on Neil Young's Rust Never Sleeps in structure, in that the record featured both sides of the Keaggy style: This Side featured gentle, melodic acoustic ballads and mellow soft rock, and That Side contained heavier rock and light funk tunes. It's an interesting approach, and like the corny title, shows Phil's strength for deft fretwork, fast and soaring solos, and bright, singable melodies--and also his tendency toward folksy cuteness. Hey, nobody's perfect!
The album starts off with the pretty but precious "A Child," which is basically is the theme song for everybody's inner youth. Sure, it's got a huge melodic hook, but it's also cloying and a little silly, and features nothing special on the six-string. The next song is even gentler, but a hundred times more resonant--Phil's pro-life statement song, "Little Ones." With just a vocal and beautifully recorded and played acoustic guitar, he takes a stand for the voiceless victims of abortion. He manages to sing an emotionally-charged song without being preachy or heavy-handed. Whatever one's view may be on the issue, if any man had a platform to "speak up," it was Phil, given the struggles he and Bernadette had with carrying a child to full term.
The other major highlight from the acoustic side is "Spend My Life With You," built around a repeating but melodic arpeggio, with some great longing lyrics about Phil being on the road away from his love. The soloing on the extended coda is some of the best on the record, and the piece is fluent and emotionally-resonant. Phil would re-visit the song in an adapted form on his 1996 instrumental album Acoustic Sketches.
When Phil "flips over" to electric, things get a little deeper and more challenging. "Just a Moment Away" is decent whitefunk with back-talking vocals ("What You Say"), a strong chorus, and a sinewy solo. "A Royal Commandment" is complex, anchored by the heaviest riff on a PK song yet, but it's counterbalanced by some mellow synths, quiet verses and a jazzy break. "Pulling Down" a fast-moving rocker about spiritual warfare with a bluesy feel.
The most memorable track on That Side is the slow-moving but bluesy "Sunday School." This is not a kiddie singalong by a long shot; he's telling a sad story of rebellion against God's deliverance by people that need it the most. Starting with a very twangy, angular pattern on what sounds to be a Telecaster, the song unwinds and slithers along until it comes to an abrupt and unhappy ending. Quite a distance from the lost and "found, found, found."
Ph'lip Side has some great moments of brilliance in the midst of some light pop sparkles, and succeeds in its mission of showing the artist's range and depth. It would set the tone for the next several albums by setting a few gems in the midst of several average pieces and the occasional sappy duffer. Still, this album at least has a thematic structure that makes finding those gems worth the effort of digging through the rest.
