U2's Achtung Baby (Island, 1991) was certainly a watershed in that band's career. Whether one were hearing 'The Fly' as a single on the radio or playing the opening guitars and distorted vocals in 'Zoo Station', it was clear that U2 was doing something totally new here. Fans still consider this to be U2's best album, and the ZOO TV era as the band's creative peak.
Whiteheart beat U2 to the re-invention punch by at least two years. Who did not look at the album cover or the band photography in the liner notes and not think, 'Wow, this is a new direction for Whiteheart'? Didn't we all play this album through the first time, and find ourselves astonished that this was the same band (pretty much the same line-up even) that produced Don't Wait for the Movie and Emergency Broadcast?
Make no mistake: both albums are good—very, very good. Play all of Whiteheart's records up to that point, one after the other, and each album is good by itself. But with each release, Whiteheart gets better and better. To me, Hotline (Home Sweet Home, 1985) was a terrific album and a classic in its own right. But Don't Wait for the Movie is right up there, I think, as a real leap forward for the band. Emergency Broadcast is likewise another step forward from that.
Then there's Freedom (Sparrow, 1989). This is Whiteheart's moment of re-invention; their Achtung Baby moment. As personally pivotal for me as Don't Wait for the Movie is, Freedom represents that moment for the rest of us—maybe for the band themselves. It's like we're all going, 'Oh, this is who Whiteheart is!' And we all love what we see and hear.
Among Whiteheart fans, it seems Freedom is easily the top favorite and perhaps considered the band's creative peak in some sense. It's certainly a peak, but with each subsequent release right up until Redemption (Curb, 1997), Whiteheart seems to be re-inventing themselves and pushing the concept of 'creative peak' a bit further each time. No Whiteheart album from 1982-1997 really sounds alike, and what a creative achievement that is by itself!
Freedom is not my personal favorite, though I recognize and strongly affirm its status as a great—a step beyond good or very good—album. Keep in mind, I remain musically illiterate: I don't play any instruments or sing, and I can't read a single note or recognize the sound of a B# when I hear it. So I have no objective understanding of what constitutes a good album from a great one or a bad one. I simply use this language in terms of my personal reaction to each album at the time I first heard it, as well as how I've reacted to it in the many years since. I'm just a fan who likes what I like, even if I could never give you a technical explanation for why.
'Bye Bye Babylon' is certainly a favorite tune, though, and in recent years I'm convinced this 34-year-old song is as relevant as if released just yesterday. The prophetic cry of the Scriptures—'Repent for the kingdom of heaven is near'—is sounded at full volume here. 'Babylon' is symbolic of the mighty, powerful empire that sits in security even as the writing is on the wall. 'Babylon' is Rome in the book of Revelation. 'Babylon' is the place of exile in the book of Daniel. 'Babylon' is the United States of America, or perhaps Western civilization in general, since the end of WWII.
It is a truly powerful way to begin a rock record with that shout 'Repent!' Shouldn't such a record start with joy, something sing-able, dance-able? No, this one starts with prophetic thunder—the finger of justice and truth pointed straight at our own society. What have we done with all the blessings we've been given? What have we done with all the power that we've achieved? Who are we as a nation, and where do we stand in terms of every nation and empire's accountability before the King of kings who raises up and brings low?
Is there evidence of spiritual revival
Or did we leave a land of broken idols
The Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, for all his vaunted atheism, could have been asking similar questions and coming up with similar conclusions in his famous poem, 'Ozymandias':
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Another all-time favorite on this album is 'Let the Kingdom Come'. I enjoy songs when various bandmembers contribute to the vocals, and Gersh was probably always the 'other lead vocalist' in the band with good reason. His lower register gives certain tunes a sense of gravity and weight. He can sound rather ethereal ('Heaven of My Heart') or earthy with a gravelly and blues-y growl.
Here, Gersh anchors the tune with weight so heavy that the sound and lyric evoke a picture of someone burdened by self to a breaking point. Then, the weight is lifted off at a key lyrical moment as Rick's vocals take flight:
King of glory, enter in
And sear my heart
With love's burning flame
Oh, let Your will be done
Oh, Lord, let the kingdom come
Who, among Whiteheart fans, is not moved by 'Over Me'? I still listen to this one occasionally through tears that are either grateful or in acknowledgement that, okay, I've blown it again as usual but He never blows me off. The word-less music is at least as powerful in communicating as anything in the lyrics: together, it's an arrow straight through 'even the hardest heart'.
But the tune on Freedom that I am actually grappling with in terms of the lyrics and personal application of the clear meaning is 'Let It Go'. My 30s and 40s have found me coming to grips with a very long and detailed memory, as well as deep reflection personal consequences, when it comes to the bullying and shaming I experienced earlier in life and the spiritual abuse and exploitation I experienced later on—largely in the context of the church.
Those stories in their specifics are irrelevant here. Suffice it to say, forgiveness may be one of the greatest challenges I face as a would-be follower of Jesus.
It's like after the storm
There's a ray of gold
That's how it feels to let it go
It's like heaven has come
And opened the gates of your soul
It's a journey back into innocence
'How Many Times (Seventy Times Seven)' had addressed forgiveness earlier—or maybe more accurately had wrestled with the idea of it in the context of Scripture's teaching. 'Let It Go' is less about struggling to do so, describing the effects of having forgiven. I think that's why I'm wrestling with these lyrics in particular. The idea of a journey makes perfect sense, and I'm grateful that in His mercy God does not ask us to do so instantaneously or in a way that trivializes what really happened. The idea of a 'journey back into innocence' seems like a really big ask to me, though.
Loving one's enemies, whether it simply someone who sees things differently than I do or who has brought actual pain into my life—this has to be more than just a cliché, an ideal, or a hard part of Scripture to just smile at and otherwise ignore. The Christian life in general has to be more than just being good, becoming good, or making the world a better place. If the journey of Jesus to the cross has anything to do with being a Christian—and I think it has everything to do with it—then the key to that life is in forgiveness, loving one's enemies, and letting it go.
There's blood and guts, sacrifice, and death and resurrection in forgiveness. This is what makes being a Christian so hard, and yet so, so freeing. 'Let It Go' is the thematic center of an album called Freedom, even if 'Sing Your Freedom' is a bit more explicit about it on the front end of the record.
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