by Tim Elsenburg

Created on: February 12, 2007   Last Updated: May 11, 2007

The BBC's prime-time TV, Christian worship show, 'Songs of Praise,' here in the UK is my vision of Hell.

Comedian Eddie Izzard once talked about how religion had been reduced to "...mumbling in cold buildings..," and went on to do a very funny impression of one of those old-school hymns where there are more verses than there are people in the church to sing them, not enough choruses and everything is. On. The. Beat.

I laughed heartily at the time, but I suddenly find myself longing for a return to that comforting greyness; the pursed lips of pensioners suddenly springing into life and flapping open and closed like those of a landed halibut as they spot the camera making its pass across the congregation; kids squirming in their best clothes, cowlicks flattened down with righteous gobs of parental spit; the general feeling that, in the days before reality TV shows, this was your only hope of getting on the box.

Now it's different. They've put the 'fun' back into 'fundamentalism.' They've moved with the times. Got a bit sexy. They're down with the kids. They're hip. They're often accompanied by rock bands in colourful waistcoats, and they have even been known [swallows painfully] to rap. And all with that slightly worrying blank-eyed enthusiasm and lack of self-consciousness that I probably envy in my arrested adolescent state.

So what was wrong with 'Onward Christian Soldiers' (stirring), and 'Sing Hosanna' (chirpy), and 'The Lord's my Shepherd' (solemn) ? Now we have 'worship leaders' who clench fists and gurn their way through songs like 'How Awesome is This Place' (is that a rhetorical question, I wonder - or is there an answer ? On a scale of one to ten, perhaps ?), 'Standing Firm in the Storm' (any performance of which must involve the mullet haircut somewhere), 'Momma Look It's Jesus' ('no dear, that's Kurt Cobain') and my personal favourite, 'The Lord is My Portion' (...)

I haven't made these up, by the way...

Even the resonant majesty of the church organ, played badly by Mr Knox every Sunday, has now been swept aside like some poorly regarded eleventh commandment by clean-cut, wholesome people with acoustic guitars and DX-7 synthesisers, gleefully overusing that awful bell sound that plagued soul ballads throughout the 80's. There's simply no excuse.

There's a danger perhaps that people may be drawn in, and we should know by now that as soon as more than two people get together in one place to celebrate anything more important than the fruit and vegetable prize at a local fete, things start to go wrong. Human beings have a pretty poor record at this sort of thing.

And if you think I've been a bit unfair perhaps, just remember that Eamonn Holmes, one of the more popular presenters of Songs of Praise, also presents that most ungodly of shows, The National Lottery Live here in the UK.

Jesus, indeed - wept.

I'm admittedly ambivalent to the question of faith, though certainly not dismissive, contrary perhaps to appearances. I'm making my way towards something, but I want to find my own way there without resorting to hanging around in gangs. It's almost as if worship means less if there's no one there to see you do it.

I love religious music, but it's the personal - not the comfortable, communal demonstration of a lamentable lack of imagination, that moves me. The dusty banjos and old testament imagery of Sufjan Stevens brings me closer to some idea of God than - for example - 'Jesus Says I'm Lovely.'

The same, in fact, could possibly be said of all the best music.

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