“But I’m not sentimental,
This skin and bones is a rental.
And no one makes it out alive.”
For a stretch of four or five years during my adolescence, Switchfoot was the only band that mattered in my world. It was an all-of-a-sudden eureka type deal, tied up in my discovery of a nascent passion for art and the transcendent capacity of music in particular.
I had received The Beautiful Letdown as a gift on April 20, 2003—Easter morning. Nothing Is Sound and Oh! Gravity followed in the ensuing years. All three received plenty of spins in my Walkman, and anytime one of their singles came on WJTL FM 90.3 while driving, everyone’s conversation trailed off so we could sing along. Imagine the unbearable cacophony of four musically-inept preteens shouting the chorus of ‘Dare You to Move’. I should note that memories of this era likely disagree on whether the conversational hiatuses were a natural occurrence or if one party forced their preferences on the rest.
New Meanings to the Words I Feed Upon
Sometime in 2008 I was struck while listening to ‘Yesterdays’—comprehending the heart-rending weight of the lyrics for the very first time. Noticing this depth, I listened back through the three albums we owned with a discerning ear and found that such profundity was commonplace. Scriptural references, piercing themes, clever turns of phrase that were far more than phonetic showmanship and vague aphorism. It was already entrancing music before I discovered these rich layers of meaning, but now… I didn’t have the vocabulary to describe the mental transformation this induced in me; I’m not sure if I have it now. Suffice to say that these songs had no small hand in shaping who I am today. They revealed to me a subtle enigma: that twenty-six letters and twelve notes can be endlessly rearranged as the songwriter strives to grasp the infinite mysteries of our existence. Without their influence I never would have picked up a guitar or started writing songs.
It’s a chicken-or-egg scenario in the haze of memory, but it was around this same time that high-speed internet made its way to our neck of the woods. In short order I’d discovered the “Switchboards,” an online forum where fans could gather and talk about the band, their shows, their upcoming releases, and so on. There were also off-topic subforums where I learned a lot about life and love and why, made a few internet friends, and discovered new bands. According to this forum archive, I posted almost five thousands times up until the board’s demise in 2015. (Be sure to check out its fan-hosted replacement at switchfam.com.) It was there that I learned not only that Switchfoot had released three albums prior to The Beautiful Letdown, but also that Jon Foreman had been busy churning out solo material during my epiphanic phase. In short order I was begging to do extra chores at a very reasonable rate if it meant I could get my hands on these heretofore unknown treasures.
I remained in this impassioned mode for a number of years. I commandeered a family night out to grab a copy of Fiction Family. I managed to download a virus on my parents’ computer trying to access a leak of Hello Hurricane (sorry mom and dad; sorry Switchfoot—although, in my defense, I already had it pre-ordered at the time and have since bought it thrice over, including the Japanese version). I watched studio livestreams and listened to podcasts. I made a Twitter account just to follow the band’s activity. I bought Feet Don’t Fail Me Now and both volumes of Switchfootage. I proselytized my friends, and fake-shunned a few until they let me lend them one of these life-changing albums. I instinctively extended the word “switch” by four letters every time I typed it. I learned what vinyl was and started scouring Ebay for some obscure releases. I even possess a CD of the band’s very first single, ‘Chem 6A’ from The Legend of Chin. Still holding out hope that one day I can get my hands on a copy of Etc.
All that collecting took place over the course of years, but not long after that experience with ‘Yesterdays’ initiated my musical enlightenment, I used some of my hard-earned cash to purchase a Friends of the Foot pass, which meant when I went to see the band at the American Music Theater on 6/21/2009 that I had the chance to meet them. That little credential dangling from my neck gave me the opportunity to get autographs and pictures and—gulp—talk to the band. I’m not sure if I said a single word to my personal idols, but I remember my mother commending Jon for being a good role model and that when we lined up for a picture, I, a pimply fifteen year old stringbean, was taller than everyone in the band.
When I Feel Like My Dreams Are So Far
These memories fell upon me in a whirling rush on Saturday night as the band co-headlined a show with Collective Soul at the My Heroes Stage at the Hollywood Casino in Grantville, PA.
It had been awhile since my last show. During that four to five year stretch, Switchfoot concerts were a regular occurrence. If they were playing within a couple hundred miles of my house I would pester until my parents caved. But during my college years things began to change. For starters, my musical appetite exploded and I started exploring a bunch of genres that Switchfoot never incorporated into their sound despite their undersung stylistic diversity. I became acquainted with the artists who influenced Switchfoot and up-and-coming indie acts. My undisputed favorite band was thus downgraded to a favorite, but additional factors outside of music fandom affected my zealotry as well: I overloaded myself with engineering coursework, I briefly joined my school’s soccer team, I tried dedicating spare time to learning guitar, I started dating my future wife (our first dance was to Foreman’s ‘In My Arms’). Another life change threatened to prevent me from attending the concert on Saturday, namely, the birth of our first child. The show was scheduled for the 30th; the due date was the 28th.
When I saw the tour announcement this spring my heart skipped a beat. Switchfoot and Collective Soul? Surely this was personal redemption for having to skip the Switchfoot/Anberlin tour in 2011 because the show was on a weeknight! I’d never seen Collective Soul—though now I envision seeing them anytime they’re in town—but if Switchfoot was my numero uno in high school, Collective Soul was certainly in the top ten. I vividly remember purchasing Dosage and then listening to it for the first time on headphones while helping my dad chop firewood. Setting aside those tours where Switchfoot opened for themselves—such a brilliant flex—I could think of few pairings better than this one. Imagine the sinking of my heart when I saw the proximity of those dates.
Are We Listening to Hymns of Offering?
During my worldly college years there was a stint where I stupidly lumped both of these exemplary acts in with what I have come to view as an unhealthy industry: Contemporary Christian Music. Spurning that manufactured junk was, I believed, a sign that I was maturing in my faith. It’s not all garbage, of course—and neither band under discussion deserve to be labeled as such to begin with—but a vast majority of what’s produced in that realm is shallow, disingenuous, and musically derivative; a result of a market that craves a Christianized alternative to mainstream entertainment over and against artistry. It’s the same problem that plagues Christian movies. Though I remained a Christian, I wanted nothing to do with knockoff Christian entertainment. Blame it on the general decline in the popular taste from which CCM is derived or the watering down of Christian doctrine in the 21st century, but at the end of the day the issue is simple to nutshell: an individual who is a follower of Christ, musically gifted, and poetically sophisticated is a rare breed. When such a unicorn comes into existence, they’re justifiably reluctant to thrust their hopes upon a market that cares not for artistic merit. No artist of any caliber is going to find fulfillment blowing the socks off of soccer moms.
And thus you have the Christians-in-a-band paradigm, which Switchfoot has adhered to throughout their career along with bands like Anberlin, Thrice, Relient K, P.O.D., Jars of Clay, Project 86, Twenty One Pilots, Mutemath, The Fray, Lifehouse. They’ve played Christian festivals (my first time seeing them in the pre-fanboy days was at Creation East 2007), toured with openly Christian bands, and Foreman’s lyrics have always scanned as biblically-influenced; but their occupation is musical entertainment—not evangelizing, not leading worship, not preaching. This is the type of cultural engagement envisioned by Francis Schaeffer, where the Christian worldview is intertwined with earnest artistic pursuit instead of grafted onto the copycatting of popular trends.
Collective Soul is a little bit slipperier in this regard. Where Switchfoot has kind of straddled the markets—occasionally releasing a unique single for Christian radio and so forth—Collective Soul has gone to great lengths to distance themselves. Frontman Ed Roland has used the phrase “separation of church and rock ‘n’ roll,” and even comes across quite fuzzy regarding his own faith in several interviews, citing his Baptist upbringing while espousing a syncretistic outlook. And yet his lyrics indicate a man actively engaged with working out his religious beliefs much in the way that Bono and U2 often read as Christ-influenced.
In any case, it’s outside of the CCM market that you’ll find artists like these two groups who sincerely engage with their faith, who sing about their doubts, who contemplate the realities of our existence, who plumb the depths of their souls, who grapple with God and His Word, and finally, somehow, wrestle all of that spiritual contemplation into riffs, chord progressions, and rhyming couplets. Of course, many non-Christian artists—who remain spiritual beings and image-bearers of God despite their rejection of Christ—sing about these matters too and make stellar music, much of which I adore. But that’s beside the point—which is how refreshing it is to witness real people examining their own flaws for all to see through the medium of music in a way that does not cheapen the Christian message. You get the sense that they’re singing about their own sins and shortcomings instead of just yours.
Regrettably, it must be noted that a number of these artists have fallen away from their faith entirely. For every Jon Foreman there are two or three like him who have made a name for themselves in Christian circles, found some level of mainstream success, and then eventually renounced Christianity. Artists such as MxPx, Pedro the Lion, Gungor, and so on. I’d posit that the apostasy was going to happen anyway, and it’s far more edifying for impressionable young Christians to see someone struggle and fail than to see them pose as a blameless puritan until the wheels fall off.
This Is Your Life, Are You Who You Wanna Be?
Setting matters of faith aside, it is apparent that both Foreman and Roland are born entertainers. Interestingly, each was raised the son of a minister, and each formed a band with his younger brother (Tim Foreman and Dean Roland). Like many bands that the casual listener is vaguely acquainted with, both Switchfoot and Collective Soul captured the cultural zeitgeist just as their primary creative forces entered their artistic primes. Ed Roland saw his promotional demo reel (Hints Allegations and Things Left Unsaid) go platinum on the back of ‘Shine’, then followed it up with three more platinum albums (Collective Soul, Disciplined Breakdown, Dosage) that shift between heartfelt balladry and thick riffs with a stadium luster to rival U2’s output from the same period. Switchfoot blew up with the one-two punch of ‘Meant to Live’ and ‘Dare You to Move’ from The Beautiful Letdown, an album that ultimately sold almost three million copies. Both bands released multiple albums that are pound-for-pound better than anything by a bunch of bands who are household names. Had the cards fallen differently, one could envision either band having the commercial success of, say, Pearl Jam or the Foo Fighters.
It’s been twenty years, give or take, since either band was a cultural force—a reality that owes as much to shifting tastes as it does to the comedown from those lofty artistic peaks. Had either band shut things down fifteen years ago, the time would be ripe for a comeback. Had they failed to gain mainstream popularity in the first place, their relative obscurity would be celebrated. And yet over the past two decades, both bands have continued to put out quality music and tour in support of it, their familiarity allowing them to hide in plain sight. Neither exhibits the idiosyncrasies that might attract the indie crowd or the edginess that’s going to earn street cred with critics. And neither is going to be viewed as the next big thing when they’ve already had their moment in the sun. But neither needs a scene because they’ve both earned their dedicated fan bases through decades of hard work.
A few songs into Switchfoot’s opening set, they played ‘Stars’, a minor hit from Nothing Is Sound. As the song neared its end, Jon spotted a young man out in the crowd holding up a handmade cardboard-and-sharpie sign that read “Can I play ‘Stars’ with you?” Two minutes later, a lanky kid of sixteen was up there on stage tuning up Foreman’s guitar—a young man, I might add, who was not yet born when the song that he got to play on stage with its author was written. Foreman used the idle time to get the crowd ready for Collective Soul by noting that he was sixteen years old when he heard their music for the first time. As I watched this young man rip through the song’s main riff, I thought of myself at sixteen, idolizing these rockstars to an unhealthy degree. I thought about that magical feeling when you hear the opening notes of a favorite song, and about how the songs I fell in love with as a young man have stood the test of time. I thought about how cool it is that these philosopher-poets have continued to hone their craft over the years, even as their mainstream popularity has waned, and now reap the rewards of playing intimate shows to passionate fan bases who know all the words to all of their songs. Near the end of the show, Roland—who, thirty years ago, was an aspiring songwriter who’d given up hope and signed a contract to play guitar on a cruise ship—offered a heartfelt thanks to the steadfast fans who’ve allowed him to make a life of it.
I’m Going to Buy Back Memories
Anyway, I mentioned a baby earlier. Due two days before the show. I wasn’t about to abandon my wife with a two-day old infant to go to a rock concert. Even when an ultrasound shifted the due date up by a week I wasn’t even thinking about attending. But when our beautiful daughter decided the womb was cramping her style a whole month ahead of schedule, I thought there might be a chance. Even still, I dragged my feet until a friend—who I hadn’t seen in three years!—asked me if I was interested in going. Turns out my days as a grassroots promoter worked on at least one person.
I was looking forward to finding a seat in the middle of the crowd, sitting back, soaking up the nostalgia as my favorite bands played the songs that defined my youth. But because we waited until the day before the show to buy tickets, we ended up stumbling upon someone reselling pit passes for half the price of general admission. The Calvinists among us will affirm that God intended me to be right up next to the stage.
It was a truly memorable show—my first concert of any kind in at least five years. During ‘Bull in a China Shop’, Jon was out in the crowd with a harmonica, dueling with stagebound guitarist Boaz Roberts (touring with the band in place of Drew Shirley, who departed shortly after the release of Interrobang). Bubbles were blown out over the crowd during ‘Float’. The set featured a few of the band’s classics, but it was dominated by material from the last six years or so; stuff I’d never seen live. Though I favor that golden era that I grew up with, I’ve never missed a new release, and I was pleased to find that songs I was lukewarm on took on a vibrant new life in the live setting—particularly songs like opener ‘Take My Fire’, ‘If I Were You’, and the aforementioned ‘Bull in a China Shop’.
Collective Soul has a new album releasing next week (Vibrating) and they played two new songs from it—lead single ‘All Our Pieces’ and the previously unheard ‘Undone’—plus a new acoustic-and-harmonica “protest” song called ‘Bob Dylan, Where Are You Today?’ If I’m not mistaken, Roland also announced that the band had recorded three albums worth of material in addition to next week’s release. I’m not familiar with every nook and cranny of the band’s catalog as I am with Switchfoot’s, but the songs I knew by heart were all electrifying to see live. I particularly enjoyed ‘Precious Declaration’, ‘Heavy’, ‘Better Now’, ‘The World I Know’, ‘Right as Rain’, ‘Gel’, and… they just put on a heck of a show, okay? Where Switchfoot’s songs are frequently based around a melody or a simple hook—their high points marked by Foreman belting at the top of his lungs—many of Collective Soul’s are built around exquisite riffs, allowing Roland to prance around the stage and fling his microphone stand back and forth (he’s quite agile for a near-sexagenarian) while his bandmates groove. My buddy and I were situated in front of Jesse Triplett and near the end of the show were lucky enough to snag a pick that the guitarist tossed into the crowd. Their set closed with an extended rendition of ‘Run’ that saw the band slowly sidle off stage as the instrumentation gradually dropped out, until it was just Ed Roland, hiding in a corner, lost in the music emanating from his guitar.
It was one for the books—a friendship renewed, a passion for live music rediscovered, a love of two terrific bands rejuvenated. I hope to see Jon still rocking when he’s Ed’s age, and Ed still rocking when he’s as old as Dylan.