As anyone who has read more than one of my modest little scribbles here has doubtless noticed, I have a warm spot in my heart for classic Christian rock and the artists who created same, many of whom are still making great music. Doing my best to inform as many people as possible about these artists and their work is, at its core, a holy obligation; one I willingly embrace. At the very least, it’s a far more productive time utilization than spending all day on social media yelling Obama is a poopyhead and/or Trump is a meanypants.

This came into focus earlier today while perusing a Facebook thread involving Mike Roe (77s, solo work, Lost Dogs). Now, if you’re looking for Good Good Father Part II, you’ll most likely be disappointed in Roe’s body of work. If you’re looking for superb songwriting in both the shimmering guitar pop and earthy blues realms, laced with genuine heart laid bare lyrics discussing relationships and philosophical matters as seen through (to borrow a phrase from Roe’s Lost Dogs compatriot Terry Scott Taylor) the tired eyes of faith, Roe is your man. He also plays Clapton-level lead guitar. He’s that good.

Back to the aforementioned thread. A fan had passed along some of Roe’s ’80s work to Stephen Fellows, in days gone by leader of English alt band The Comsat Angels. Roe is a huge fan of Fellows’ work. Fellows had high praise for Roe’s work. Everybody happy happy happy, correct? Not so fast, as said fan after several lengthy dissertations on what kind of music Roe should be doing and which musicians he should be playing with next threw this at him:

Commence butthurt!

Aside from the minor detail Roe has decades worth of work amply exhibiting he doesn’t need anyone telling him what to do, the exchange reveals a mindset far too prevalent on both sides of the political aisle. Namely, that unless an artist is playing monkey dancing to an approved organ grinder’s tune they’re doing it wrong. How DARE you not worship at my sacred cow’s altar!

It’s not that politics are unimportant. But are they that important? The single mom scrambling and ofttimes struggling to keep a roof over her children’s heads is often, doubtless to the surprise of political junkies, perhaps not nearly as concerned about the new menu items at that fine French restaurant Outrage du Jour as she is about silly stuff like paying bills and raising her kids right. People and their priorities; go figure.

It also may come as an utter shock, but some folk are actually cognizant of the fact that life on this planet comes with a firm, albeit unknown, expiration date. This should induce neither morbid resignation nor frenetic efforts to fulfill all life goals by 2 PM next Tuesday. It should help bring matters into focus. Is what any one of us is accomplishing authentic progress toward our goals? If our goal is self-glorification and browbeating others into bending toward our political whim, what are we actually accomplishing? Unless Ozymandias is your role model, kinda spinning your wheels there.

Be mindful of what truly matters: faith, hope, and love. The latter is the most important. We, and one day the memories of us, will pass from this earth. Love is eternal, even as Christ is eternal. The years indeed go down. Live and love accordingly.

As mentioned before in this space, many veteran Christian rockers have successfully turned to crowdsourcing as a means to both finance rereleasing cherished catalog albums and fund new projects. The 77s are currently working the former, with an unearthing (or rescuing from underwater, if you prefer) of their 1994 release Drowning With Land In Sight the pursued prize.

Drowning With Land In Sight was the 77s sixth album and their second major label release, albeit of a far different nature than the first which was put out in 1987 by Island Records only to be overwhelmingly ignored by same, it apparently too busy counting money from the latest U2 project to notice it had a terrific record by someone else on its hands. This time, the band was labelmates with Amy Grant and looked poised to claim their rightful place along Petra et al among Christian rock royalty. Which unlike regular rock royalty translated into actually being able to pay the rent on time each month as opposed to making sure the accountants properly cut a check for the new Lear next month. But I digress.

There was one minor problem with this approach. The 77s had always been Christian rock for people who hate Christian rock; never intentionally antagonizing their prospective core audience but also never comfortably nesting alongside the aforementioned Petra and variations thereof as readymade youth group fodder. The lyrics were too introspective, the accompanying music too challenging as it varied from shimmering, contemplative power pop minus the genre’s usual relentless cheerfulness to heavy blues. The band’s pop side had been prevalent on its previous release. Now it was time for the blues. And oh, did they deliver.

In the film Rattle and Hum, Bono commented, “Charlie Manson stole this song from The Beatles. We’re stealing it back” as U2 ripped into a cover of “Helter Skelter.” Without similar fanfare, The 77s did the same opening Drowning With Land In Sight by taking Led Zeppelin’s arrangement of “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” and reuniting it with song author Blind Willie Johnson’s original lyrics, or at least a far more closely aligned set of words than what Robert Plant intoned. Making this a full throttle triumph, band lead singer/lead guitarist/main songwriter Mike Roe showcased how he was and is one of the very, very, very few guitarists on the planet capable of tackling a tune touched by Jimmy Page and not sounding anemic by comparison.

Roe and company were just getting warmed up. The album bristles with snarling jagged force. At the time it was being recorded, Roe was watching his marriage crumble while bandmate David Leonhardt was finishing a battle with cancer. This left little room for niceties or pious platitudes. Instead, Roe took what would have been the title track from his previous album had the distributor not nixed it, namely “Pray Naked,” and used its philosophy as a beacon, stripping bare his raw emotions and displaying them for all to see. Lyrically the theme isn’t centered on former partner bashing; reflections on one’s own shortcomings are woven throughout decried loss. The band occasionally dipped into its pop side for this, but for the album’s majority kept the sledgehammer cranked to 11. Only the last three songs featured The 77s’ softer side, with the final song “For Crying Out Loud” offering the hope most everything before it found lacking.

It’s little wonder Drowning With Land In Sight fared poorly in the Christian marketplace. Said collection of Christian bookstores and churches purchasing music from them was, if ofttimes grudgingly, acceptant of endless variations on “Praise Ye The Lord” by Petra. It had no idea whatsoever what to do with a primal scream. But for those who know pain, the album was and remains a hiding place for shared sorrow. Drowning With Land In Sight is a superb musical dark star, steeped in the blues and made for those walking in the valley of the shadow.