When the messenger has a message

sufjanPitchfork is an online site with daily reviews, news and features about indie music. Chris Dahlen writes an interesting and well-written piece this week about why the indie music community has such trouble with Christian themes:

I don't know why hipsters hate Jesus. I'm not here to explain how the guy behind the Sermon on the Mount turned into a symbol of our blue- and red-state divide, or to narrow down why it's desperately unhip to admit you're a Christian and then get on stage at a rock club. Almost no strain of music is as secular as indie rock: It's quaint when old men on 78s sing spirituals, and a rugged legend like Johnny Cash can pray however he wants, but if you're a scrawny songwriter with a 4-track, siding with Jesus makes you a leper.

Dahlen looks at Michael Nau, the voice behind Page France. Nau sings about Jesus and other religious themes in some of his music but doesn't consider himself a Christian artist. This confuses both Christian and non-Christian listeners. Sufjan Stevens, whose album was one of the most critically acclaimed of last year, has the same trouble. Everyone loves him but many of his fans don't know how to take his religious themes. Dahlen says this is silly:

But the shame here isn't that people made the wrong assumptions about Page France, but that they would ever have dismissed him over his beliefs in the first place. Even a religious performer can convey doubt and conflict. Sure, the bands that rocked the Christian festival at your local speedway stick to celebration and sin, but consider the work of people who are described as "thinking Christians" -- a term that's about as patronizing as "intelligent dance music," but let's go with it for now. Take the quest for spirituality on Talk Talk's Laughing Stock, or the piety and humility of Sufjan Stevens' Seven Swans, or to widen the circle, the furious morality of the abolitionist preacher in Marilynne Robinson's Gilead, or the scene in Kenneth Lonergan's You Can Count on Me in which the reverend asks Mark Ruffalo's drifter if he considers his life important. If we shun the religious content of these works, we're missing their emotional and intellectual power.

You can disagree with the church of your choice, but to dismiss religion altogether -- and to write off the best ideas, the best people and of course, the best indie rockers -- that come out of it, seems pointless. Why shoot the messenger just because you're scared he has a message?

This is a surprisingly open-minded piece from an unlikely source. It's also a great idea for further study by reporters. Someone should even consider writing a book about pop culture and religion.

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