Thursday 4 February 2010

79. 10 Prayers about Song

Or the other way round

I Say A Little Prayer - Aretha Franklin
Wood Beez (Pray Like Aretha Franklin) - Scritti Politti
Down To The River To Pray - Alison Krauss
Idiot Prayer- Nick Cave
Pray - Take That
Like A Prayer - Madonna
My Lover's Prayer - Otis Redding
Praying for Time - George Michael
New Year's Prayer - Jeff Buckley
Pray - MC Hammer

Prayer seems to have produced a broader church than usual in the songlist, which is only fitting. I'm glad to have finally been able to include MC Hammer in this blog. I'd be nothing without you, Hammer.
Prayer is of great interest to me. It's one of those things you lose when you relinquish faith which you wish you didn't really have to give up, so you hold on to to it in other ways, like the five minutes peace of the cigarette, the sound of a cat purring, the quiet wish for good outcomes. This secular prayer is dealt with in a poem by our poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy, who i'm not sure has made a terribly good start to her tenure - but is not to be disregarded. I came across this poem as a 17 year old, and I think, now I reread it, it has had greater effect on me than any other piece of verse not accompanied by music. That's not to profess its quality, necessarily, but just to look at it and think that it sunk deep, deep into me...
I'm loath to include poems by professional poets, as it breaks any illusion I might build up that I'm not hopelessly inept, but anyway, here it is

PRAYER
Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer
utters itself. So a woman will lift
her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.

Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
enters our hearts, that small familiar pain;
then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth
in the distant Latin chanting of a train.

Pray for us now. Grade I piano scales
console the lodger looking out across
a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls
a child's name as though they named their loss.

Darkness outside. Inside, the radio's prayer -
Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.

We were told as teenage Christians about the four ways to pray - ACTS A Adoration C Confession T Thanksgiving S Supplication, but I imagine that 90% of prayers ever uttered have been supplication, so I used to try to discipline myself. I was told i should really do ten minutes a day, so 2 1/2 minutes on each, no overdoing the supplication. It's hard mustering 2 1/2 minutes of divine adoration every day, believe me. "God, you're great, really great, massive, awesome, honestly, i think you're great .... how long's that ... shit, only 20 seconds ... o yes, Jesus, you're great too, and the holy spirit, great, great, awesome, can I ask for stuff yet?"
So prayer is a multi-headed beast, out loud, in silence, ex tempore, palms clasped, head bowed, hands raised to heaven, swaying and crazy, desperate, calm, ordered, prescribed, freestyle - what is it? Our attempt to communicate with God, to feel God's presence, but really, as the poem above suggests, to many it's not really about God at all.
These days I never pray. Never. Not even in that romantic secular way. Not even in the five minute's peace cigarette way. I never ask for nothing from no one and nothing from fate. I never confess nothing or say sorry to the world for nothing. I never give thanks except to the appropriate authorities, and I never adore, I just think on, and witter on, and list on, and watch on, and type on. I'm not the better for it. Perhaps our tweets and our facebook updates are the prayers of today. That line was meant sardonically.
Prayer is all about God, after all, isn't it? Carol Ann Duffy and my vague sense of a secular prayer is an unearned cry into the abyss. You give up God, you give up the right to a prayer. That's only fair, isn't it ...

I used to pray my idiot prayers
with empty hopes for lost civilizations
I used to believe my idiot wishes
would not be lost to aimless ages

I used to wash my sins away
seldom, but with feasome intent
I envied the wild, mercurial virtue
of the Baptist out in the desert

I used to pray my soul to keep
itself clear from pride and ambition
That soul I've now for so long lost
would grant I've managed that with honour

I used to think I could be heard if
I could stay silent long enough
and though there was no answer back
still i'd pray to be less alone




No comments:

Post a Comment