Rating: 2/10

Release date: 25 January 2012
(CrossPointe Worship)

CrossPointe Church are one of the faster growing churches in Atlanta, Georgia. And so fast-growing churches must do what other fast-growing churches do, ie cut worship albums filled with "original" songs that don't actually sound original, but which give the church added PR material to lure in the seekers. It could even explain the title Here Comes The Light, the church's third album in seven years, which is likely to perk the attention of hippies and hipsters alike with its Beatles-esque moniker. Could this be a case of Abbey Road teleported to the home of the Braves?

Not a chance. Don't for a second think that Here Comes The Light is a Beatles tribute in any way, shape or form—unless, say, the church are trying to get a bit closer to some of the Fab Four's bummers like 'Wild Honey Pie' or 'Glass Onion'. More likely, CrossPointe have veered closer to far more churchy influences. Take the title track, which bustles with a flurry of licks, as if worship pastor Spence Parkerson chucked the grainy demo to his lead guitarist and said, "See you in two weeks". Alas, said lead licker likely ploughed into some of Hillsong's chugga-chuggas, nicked all the tap-tempo delays and single-note lines he could, and repackaged them as "contemporary". Indeed, the imprints of 21st century Hillsong are liberally xeroxed here. 'I Believe' finds middle ground between two of HIllsong's better known 12/8 tunes, 'No Reason To Hide' and 'You', but discovers the real reason people call the land of in betweens as "no man's land", while the spindly guitaring and pop rock progressions of 'Sovereign' suggest Brooke Fraser was a overwhelming influence.

Yet all too often, CrossPointe simply try too hard to modernise, and their efforts are as squeamish as the "e" affixed to the end of the church name. It's all eager beaver, with no real chomp. Mucking about with dynamics proves an unsuccessful dabble, as evident in 'To Those in Hiding', where a solo piano and a purring Taylor Holder fail to mask the song's uninventive chord movements. Trying to generate grandeur without sufficiently expansive material won't cut it either; the boisterious cymbals of 'As We Go' aren't quite matched by the song's polite melodies, 'Atmosphere' doesn't infuse its ambitious song title into the its whiny pop rock preening, and 'Overflow' lacks the natural opulence that its atmospheric pads, swelling toms and sustained guitar lines try desperately to induce. And at the bottom of the poser pile, 'No Weapon' struts as a supposed war cry, but its palm muted minor chords comically recall Pink Floyd's 'Another Brick In the Wall'—not forgetting that the verse's insistence of "we will not be tired" aren't too distant from Roger Waters declaring his lack of need for education and thought control.

For sure, there are halting moments in Here Comes The Light that suggest this creative community might possess faint fragments of songwriting acumen. 'Sweet Mercy' might feature an awkward blending of distorted chordings with twinkly delays, but at least finds its vigour in Holder's measured yet stirring exhortation to "Burn brighter, sing louder / Rise up you sons and daughters". And speaking of siblings, closer 'Sons and Daughters' finally breaks through the stifling cloud with an initial quiet, cosy approach and male-female harmonisation that suggest inspiration from the fast-rising Integrity Music pair of the same name. It could be blatant mimicky, but there can be no shame in lifting from trendsetters, especially if it allows CrossPointe to salvage this capsized barge. "Rejoice, rejoice my soul / The blood has made us whole", they cry in the song. We echo the declaration, albeit for different reasons; our rejoicing comes from the knowledge that an album this prosaic has actually concluded. Forget the light of this kind; bring on the luminence of the evening, for at least we know that street lamps will give us an excuse to snog our brains out, and expel this dross from our memories.

Track listing:

1. Here Comes the Light
2. Sovereign
3. I Believe
4. As We Go
5. No Weapon
6. To Those In Hiding
7. Overflow
8. Sweet Mercy
9. Atmosphere
10. Only You
11. Sons and Daughters

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Rating: 5/10

Release date: 29 January 2012
(Free Chapel Records)

At some point in the journey of an expanding industry, consolidation must occur. It's a necessary stage in the business lifecycle, and entire textbooks have been written about the delicate art of successful mergers, and the perils of poorly executed ones. The trick isn't whether someone should consolidate or not; it's figuring out precisely when to apply the glue.

No one really knows whether the church music industry is ready for some kind of merger. But already, some trendsetters aren't waiting. Passion and Hillsong have begun dipping their megatoes in each others megapools, while Kari Jobe has ventured into Integrity Music's broad stables via a few collabos with Paul Baloche. Count Atlanta's Free Chapel as the latest pool plungers then. The Jentzen Franklin-pastored church actually played a quiet round of buddy ball with Ricardo Sanchez in their 2007 debut Moving Forward and 2009 followup Power Of The Cross. But on third release Echo, the church's resident worship leaders Adam Ranney and Micah Massey really pull out the big black book and rope in Israel Houghton and Planetshakers' Joth Hunt.

In Echo's case, it isn't just guest vocalists, however. Houghton serves as producer and music director, co-writes on nine of the album's 12 tracks, and fully flexes his reputation for bending genres and concocting complex arrangements. He also appears to have made the conscious decision to minimise the overdubs, which would explain the occasional instances of missed pitches, imbalanced vocal mix and extended spoken passages, including one by Pastor Franklin himself. The endeavour is no doubt an attempt to capture the rawness of youth, since Echo is the byproduct of Free Chapel's youth conference. If so, then the opening three tracks are a clear beneficiaries of his profound influence; the fizzy keyboard intro of 'Echo' erupts into a triumphant crowd chant of "whoa-oh-oo-oh", some taut syncopations and a surging chorus elevated by sizzling drum fills; the call-and-response bridge of 'All Things New' is lovingly prefixed with suave synth leads'; and in 'Rez Power', the song's three-chord riff pins down a sturdy tune anchored by the intoxicating vocals of Houghton and Hunt.

Houghton's vocal acrobatics appear to have rubbed off Ranney and Massey as well, at least in the album's robust top section. The misty 'Your Presence is Heaven' finds the unassuming Massey taking a contented stroll through the verse, until an octaved chorus and its subsequent uplifting bridge tilt the tune towards grander themes. Meanwhile, Ranney's expansive range allows 'Speechless' to leap from its mellow, ruminating verse to a exhilerating chorus, then straight into a fiery second half bulked by blistering dominant seventh-note attacks and a magnificent break that underscores the song central phrase, "You take my breath away".

Unfortunately, that line proves to be a prophetic utterance of doom for Echo's final six tunes. For as Pastor Franklin takes over with a sermonette on grace, and an antiquated solo sax rendition of 'Amazing Grace', the album's bouyance begins to seep out, often via its own scattered pins of shoddy self-imitation. 'No Thing' tries to work in the similar propulsive ingredients of 'All Things New' and 'Rez Power'—meaning, hyper-smacked snares, "whoa" vamps and rhythmic attacks—but lacks the same level of melodicism as its predecessors. Next, 'Graffiti Skies' is far more novel in title than execution, while Massey suddenly puts on his best Chris Tomlin impression in 'Made', complete with a tired guitar line and some nasal squawks. And when Houghton returns for his Act 2, he can do no more than squeeze in a gospel-hued segue from the hymn 'There's Something About That Name' into his now-classic 'Jesus At The Center'—a masterfully penned song that is nevertheless an unwitting victim of too much, too soon.

As album closer 'Kingdom' arrives, signs are all too prominent that the creative vat was spent far too early. The song bears melodic semblance to both Matt Redman's 'Let Your Glory Fall' in its verses and Hillsong's 'With Everything' in its "whoa" bridge, yet finds more similarities with the clunky structures of both tunes. It eventually ends after a dreary eight minutes, and in doing so, drags Echo down from its cloud-skimming opening segments to the darker trenches of tired church music. One has to wonder if this merger is less Exxon-Mobil and more Time Warner-AOL. Hopefully Free Chapel have chugged down enough of Houghton's protein shakes to bulk up on their own in the near future. If not, business school also teaches that dissolution can help to plug the leak. That, or a documentary by Michael Moore.

Track listing:

1. Echo
2. All Things New
3. Rez Power (feat. Israel Houghton & Joth Hunt)
4. Your Presence Is Heaven
5. Speechless
6. Exodus 32:32 / Amazing Grace (feat. Jentezen Franklin)
7. No Thing!
8. Graffiti Skies
9. Made
10. There's Something About That Name (feat. Israel Houghton)
11. Jesus At The Center (feat. Israel Houghton)
12. Kingdom

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Rating: 3/10

Release date: 10 April 2012
(Integrity Media)

Another year, another Planetshakers album. Oh deep joy.

The above phrase used to be able to be spoken with sincerity, back in the early 2000s when the reverberations of monumental debut release When The Planet Rocked were still being felt, conference attendances were still in the four figures, and studio releases weren't in the Shaker vocabulary. But circa 2003, and the Australian megachurch machinery kickstarted its way to a two-albums-a-year output that started with Open Up The Gates and My King. From then on, visions of tumbling dollar bills came alongside the actual collapse of songwriting quality, as the machine's vociferous demands meant little time for Henry Seeley, Mike Guglielmucci and Sam Evans to put out anything remotely close to 'It's All About Jesus', 'Reflector' or 'Praise Him'.

The new generation of Planetshakers have therefore never known a time when one album a year was perfectly acceptable. Indeed, with Seeley migrating to the United States and Evans too busy being an actual pastor to provide any input, only drummer Mike Webber remains from the original lineup. And he isn't the head honcho (because anyways, church drummers are all to happy to be given more opportunities to smack skin). Instead, Joth Hunt and his merry men have taken over the reins, and subjected us to church music at its teenybopped worst. Now one might have noticed that since 2010, Planetshakers have actually limited themselves to one album a year—first Even Greater, and then last year's Nothing Is Impossible. Not that either effort has been remotely form-finding, but at the very least, they have given hope that patience might become a returning virtue in the Shaker-verse.

But if that is to be the case, listeners are advised to first cultivate that percious spiritual fruit in their own insides. Heal Our Land, recorded at the 2011 conference, will not reward the persevering. In true Planetshakers (defiled) spirit, be prepared instead for an outpouring of hideous jagged riffs, spastic synth squiggles and the worst lyrics this side of the equator. Yes, a Nepalese Mountain Goat could bleat sweeter sounds than the opening two screeches emitted from this lot. 'Supernatural' guffaws its way to a pugnacious excuse for a guitar lick plus more idiocy via the bridge's cry, "Are you ready for His power?"; 'Good To Me' then supercedes the aforementioned atrocities by pairing a rote chromatic riff with a truly murderous bridge, as Hunt peevishly squawks, "Thank you Jesus, You are faithful / Thank you Jesus, Your love is better than life".

The hilarity rarely stops with this lot. The foul synth grime of 'It's You' gets fouler as Hunt urges, "It's time to celebrate and make a joyful noise / For He alone is great, and greatly to be praised", without batting an eyelid at the utter incongruence of phrase and melody. 'Power', the opener to Nothing Is Impossible, still thinks call-and-response bridges are the cuttingest of edges, while closer 'Running To You' still thinks "Lord You are so beautiful / Lord You are so wonderful" is a noteworthy couplet, or that "All I want is You" hasn't yet been used in any Shaker song. And in case anyone notices that Evans' middling delivery of 'You Have It All' is becoming all too apparent—hey, cue the hair metal guitar solo to seal up the gaping hole of melodiousness!

As with all Planetshaker albums of the past decade, there are sputtering signs of life, and they are often found snuggled in the midst of drivel. The sluggish 'Heal Our Land' gets a momentary uplift in its stirring bridge refrain of "Arise, arise, around us shine / Finally, hope is here, hope is here"; the obvious superiority of those lines is clearly recognised, and maximally milked. On 'Hold On To Me', there isn't even an effort to add more phrases to the song's two lines, and those three brief minutes that rely on drum dynamics, escalating adlibs and a dash of ritardando end up being the album's three finer ones.

Indeed, in this modern incarnation of Planetshakers, less is so much more, and one wishes this band would be so much less. Early on, 'Strength Of My Life' works fine with its simple yet effective chorus heralding God's greatness, but proceeds to choke on its vitamins with a daft bridge, topped by Hunt attempting to channel Sum 41 at their wimpiest. Similarly, 'Do It Again' bears some semblance of groove in its pre-chorus, but it comes forth in halting spurts, commonly clogged by lyrical complacency and an over-dependance on "whoa"s. Speaking of "whoa"s, 'Hallelujah to the Lord' structures its phrases as if it were a hymn, but will likely make the Wesleys and Newtons choke on their heavenly juice with the hopeless non-event of its "whoa" bridge.

Near the album's end, Henry Seeley makes a cameo on 'No One Like You'. The sheer distinctiveness of that impassioned timbre is a welcome sound, but that fervour is far too short-lived, and as the song reaches its quieter singalong portion, Seeley too dips an octave, inadvertently joining our drained brains in a state of numbness. True love waits, they say. In which case, anyone still waiting for Shakers to find the spirit of 2000 must have the agape love of the Almighty throbbing through their veins. That, or the eros lust of a serial rapist. In which case, this is the perfect soundtrack for mangled minds.

Track listing:

1. Supernatural
2. Good To Me
3. Do It Again
4. Heal Our Land
5. Strength Of My Life
6. Hold On To Me
7. Hallelujah to the Lord
8. You Have It All
9. Power
10. It’s You
11. No One Like You
12. Running to You

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Rating: 8/10

Release date: 8 May 2012
(New Nation Music)

As the author of some of modern worship's more oversung songs, you might imagine Jennie Lee Riddle to be another indistinguishable product of the CCM assembly line. Anyone who boasts to have supplied tunes for the likes of Kari Jobe, Rebecca St James and Tricia Brock surely cannot be a doting mother of four, residing in the meadowed hills of Texas, teaching in a Christian school and running a bed and breakfast setup for other budding songwriters?

They surely can be, if they happened to be named Jennie Lee Riddle too. For sure, many will flock to Riddle's debut People & Songs by virtue of it's three most familiar tracks, 'Revelation Song', 'When The Stars Burn Down' and 'You Are My Shepherd'. But such ADD listeners will be suprised to be greeted by such a riveting sound of silence, as all three tunes are handled with whispery care here. 'Revelation Song' simultaneously haunts and twinkles in a delicate arrangement of plucked acoustics and guitar swells; 'When The Stars Burn Down' magnifies its inherently strong melody via more sparse instrumentation; and 'You Are My Shepherd' is perhaps the biggest benificiary of the unplugging, as the patient percussions allow Jonathan Lee to do the heart tugging.

Indeed, People & Songs rarely bellows for attention; it's alt-country template veers far closer to the musky hues of Bright Eyes than the rambunctious kelaidescopes of My Morning Jacket. That's not to say this is a sombre, monochromatic affair, since Riddle's love for the banjo ensures that a perpetual thread of playfulness is ever-present. Nevertheless, as album opener 'Waking Up The Dawn' bounds out of the bedroom with jubilant handclaps and harmonica oozes, some sturdy chord movements hint to us that Riddle isn't simply allowing us to eat, drink and be merry. Be not duped by the giddy twangs of follow up tune 'Faithful'; a mesmerising amalgam of Don Poythress's breathy yearnings and a weepy slide guitar give massive tonnage to a song that finds its volume in gripping confessions like "If I had but one breath left, I hope you find me faithful".

If Riddle is to be celebrated for one thing only, let it be her stunning consistency with delivering pristine phrases, rich with theology as they are with poetry. 'From Jesus' Side' anchors its feet in the truth that "The bride was born from Jesus' side", while in 'Love Like This' lies a profound prayer that God would "Inspire hope to risk again". And on second single 'When Love Was Slain', Riddle doesn't just ape the hymnal form; she pens a flurry of gobstopping lines like "Cos I was born when love was slain", and these affirmations warrant repeated listens to adequately grasp the expansive truths being put forth with such unpretentious beauty. 

There is, however, far more to this lass than just riveting wordplay. At times, People & Songs revels in a perpetual air of solitude, but its dialled down decibels only serve as bait for the nuggets of sonic beauty littered throughout. Take the fluttering harmonies of 'Glory Fall', for instance—doubly absorbing when the music completely exits. Or the demure melodiousness of 'Can't Get Enough of You', which makes a time-honoured nod some of Hosanna/Integrity's more poised 1990s numbers like 'As The Deer' or 'Sanctuary'. Or 'Nothing's Changed', Riddle's only solo effort, where she masterfully exemplifies that gorgeous exclusivity of her vocal timbre by placing it upon a dainty combination of piano and cello. At the more expansive end of the scale, The orchestral drama of closer 'Inescapable Day' is begging to score a ballet ensemble, while on the final refrain to 'From Jesus' Side', "Hallelujah, I am born again / He's alive now, I'm alive in Him", Riddle shies away from crashing cymbals and cranked up Tubescreamers to exemplify this moment of euphoria. Instead, she leads her ramshackled garage band in delivering its victory chant via glockenspiels, tambourines, a gust of rumbling toms and a sweep of "ooo"s.

Quite simply, there isn't a songwriter in churh music today that can match Riddle's astounding songwriting acumen. People & Songs doesn't even collate all of her opuses, with 'Dwelling Place', 'Hope Of A Broken World' and 'One True God' missing from here. But more pertinently, it doesn't even need to; the cuts being hung out are infinitely more choice than any slices on display in the market. Rarely in church music do we find someone so entrancing, yet this unassuming. Such treasure of great price, once found, must never be let go.

Track listing:

1. Waking Up the Dawn (feat. Michael Farren)
2. Faithful (feat. Don Poythress)
3. Love Like This (feat. Jason Walker)
4. When the Stars Burn Down (feat. Jonathan Lee)
5. When Love Was Slain (feat. Crystal Yates, Will Yates & New Nation Music)
6. You Are My Shepherd (feat. Jonathan Lee)
7. Glory Fall (feat. Crystal Yates, Will Yates & New Nation Music)
8. O Come Divine Messiah (feat. Robbie Seay)
9. Nothing's Changed
10. From Jesus' Side (feat. Matt Boswell & Emily Riddle)
11. Broken for Love's Sake (feat. Don Chaffer)
12. The Pure Will See Our God (feat. Jonathan Lee)
13. Can't Get Enough of You (feat. Emily Riddle & Sarah Reeves)
14. Revelation Song (feat. Emily Riddle)
15. Inescapable Day

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Rating: 3/10

Release date: 17 April 2012
(Integrity Music)

Deluge Band is like the guy who finished fourth in the 100 metre dash. Or the fifth best picture nominee in 2009, while Avatar and Hurt Locker were contesting. Or the killer whale that swims in the same Sea World pool as Shamu.

They are, in other words, the types that probably deserve more attention, but who won't make you feel empty for ignoring. That's probably not entirely fair, since Jonathan Stockstill and his rotating youth band from Bethany World Prayer Center haven't been around long enough to make that swipe for the A list. But while being based in Baton Rouge, Louisiana comes with its own set of bumpkin pleasantries, it also means that musical prominence is more likely found via Youtube or an American Idol audition, rather than through tried and tested paths of major label signups. That didn't stopp this lot from joining the Integriry Music stable two years ago, where sophomore album Unshakable greeted curious ears with a mixed bag of pop punk and mod-rock standards, all scored to the key of ho-hum.

Third album Swell won't lift the lid on prominence any time tomorrow. Recorded at Bethany's annual 220 youth conference, the album presents a band that remains far too content at sounding universally digestible, even as it tries to avoid looking like a dork. Take opener 'Lift Him High', where angular riffs almost succeed is distracting from the song's nerdy chorus couplet of "Lift Him high, lift Him high / Lift the name of Jesus Christ to the sky". Similarly, 'Swell' perks with some fizzy drumwork and synth arpeggios, but is also cut from the same gaudy cloth as Bethel Church's 'Deep Cries Out', and its goofy grin protrudes to the point of becoming a traffic hazard.

Perhaps Stockstill is subconciously restrained by the fact that his church pastor is also his dad. It would certainly explain the tendency to write songs that are plonked upon a cloud of unremarkable inoffensiveness, enough for the board of elders to allow their soon-to-be commander in chief indulging in such a racket. Midway through the album, Deluge essentially extend the template of breakout song 'Worshipping You' across multiple tracks. There's the piano-helmed placidity of 'Simple Offering', which will likely earn pat-on-backs from Richard Clayderman supporters; 'All Lovers Of Jesus', a song co-written with Delirious? guitarist Stu G, earns similar "good on yea"s with ultra-polite chord movements and a mildly uplifting bridge refrain; and 'He Rose' is adorned with soothing strings to stroke sensitive souls, so that when Stockstill sings, "Celebrate the day He rose", we picture a PG party of red balloons, fruit punch and blueberry muffins, plus a family friendly end time of 9pm, so that Paul and Peggy can wake up bright and early the next morning to attend Sunday School.

Speaking of poser parties, '220 Song' has to be considered one of the nerdiest of the lot. Named after the aforementioned youth conference, the song would like you to participate in the party rockin' house tonite, but you're more likely to LYFAO at the sheer lucidity of the bridge line, "Let's start a party / Yeah, everybody / Let's start a riot / On your feet, try it". The song is also an unwitting symbol of Deluge's many failed attempts to exhibit R&B cool without naturally embodying it. 'You Are Welcome' mucks about with overlapped phrasing and soul grooves without ever locking down anything remotely catchy, while 'We Respond' is mismatched affair of snappy rim clicks awkwardly lodged against the song's wordy yet wimpy construct. And most heinous of all is the boom-snap rhythm of 'Coming On The Clouds' that ups the Napoleon Dynamite factor with a rap breakdown reeking of some Jay-Z hopeful jumping at his chance to pay tribute to Hova and Jesus at the same time.

Only two tunes save Swell from being a catastrophic waste of plastic, and they come near the top and smack at the rear. Representing the former is 'Your Joy', which transcends the suggested youthful exuberence of its title with a throbbing heartbeat that digs deeper, as Stockstill's burly tone delivers lines like "Your joy's gonna be my strength / Your peace got a hold of me" with the time-tested affirmation of one whose happy place has been forged from the crucible of life's big bads. And to close, 'Healing Is Here' basks in the sustained wails of an e-bowed guitar, before Stockstill bellows forth out a victorious bridge of "Sickness can't stay any longer, Your perfect love is casting out fear / You are the God of all power, and it is Your will that my life is healed".

It's a triumphant way to start and end—but really, nobody pays to watch a movie just to catch it's blockbuster opening sequence and the crash boom bang of the final 10 minutes. But that's what has always defined the not quites of this world, hasn't it? Swell was tailormade for those who like their worship albums to reside in the background, brainless and inobtrusive. Who knew that Deluge were capable of releasing the soundtrack to ironing clothes. No wonder our mums will like them. 

Track listing:

1. Lift Him High
2. Swell
3. Your Joy
4. Coming On The Clouds
5. Simple Offering Intro (Instrumental)
6. Simple Offering
7. You Are Welcome
8. All Lovers Of Jesus
9. He Rose
10. 220 Song
11. We Respond
12. Healing Is Here 

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Rating: 3/10

Release date: 10 April 2012
(Intergrity Music)

In modern day professional basketball, the latest fad has been to build a team around three superstars, and a bevy of reliable role players. The fad arguably began in 2007, when Boston Celtics General Manager Danny Ainge brought together all-stars Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen to join long-time Celtic Paul Pierce. The instant result was an NBA title, and since then, teams like the Miami Heat, Los Angeles Lakers, San Antonio Spurs and Oklahoma City Thunder have become fervent subscribers to this ethos. And why not? A trio of threats keeps the opposition guessing; a trio of threats means you have fighting chance, even if two-thirds of the trio have an off night.

Church music once had a similar triumvirate. Back in the early 2000s, Desperation Band boasted one of the finest trio of songwriters in church music, in Glenn Packiam, Jared Anderson and Jon Egan. This tunesmith trinity rooted in Colorado Springs megachurch New Life built up one of North America's most influential college bands, delivering terse tracks like 'Amazed', 'I Am Free', 'Rescue' and 'Lovesong' that revelled in youthful fountains and found their breaths in college groups nationwide.

But as is often the case in the NBA, all trios grow up, and have to be broken up eventually. Packiam and Anderson soon ventured into solo musical and pastoral paths, leaving Egan to keep the Desperation Band engine purring. 2009's Light Up The World was his first attempt as point man as he produced the album, but the underwhelming end product proved that Egan just didn't have sufficient oil in his vat to helm the charge. And so Center Of It All, the band's sixth album, is a second try, and signs are evident that Egan wants to rectify earlier shortcomings. He still writes almost every song, but hands over production duties to it-man Paul Mabury, while enlisting an abundance of co-writing contributions from Jason Ingram, Kari Jobe, Matt Redman, and the HIllsong pair of Mia Fieldes and Ben Fielding.

It's communal Smurf hugs all around, and there are isolated instances where this pays off handsomely. Opener 'All To Him', a joint effort by Egan, Fields and Ingram, skips with some 'Viva La Vida'-styled piano chirpiness, balanced against measured snare rolls and recurrent two-bar crashes—savvy unions built upon a weighty pack of chords that underscore the song's focus on God's all-encompassing nature. Further down, Egan pairs up with Jobe to deliver the hushed acoustics of 'My God', which creak like an Iron and Wine b-side (albeit one with a fraction of Sam Beam's searing candour) even as the duo shelve vocal gymnastics in favour of reverent intimacy, allowing the tenderness of a bowed cello to occupy whatever listening space you afford.

But for the most part, Egan and his happy tree friends appear to have spent too much time on the touchy-feely to bother writing consistently solid songs. It's an unfortunate outcome for an album with such lofty themes. Take 'Strong God', a song clearly branded as an album centrepiece by virtue of its commanding title and position as third at bat. On first impression, the sturdy marching pattern, dense layers and towering chords hint at the makings of one most heavenly victory chant. But scrape off the film, and we're left with lazy phrases like "Sing out", "cry out", and "shout out", tacky string lines, and the mindblowing lunacy of a female auto-tuned backing vocal harmonising through the bridge. Meanwhile, 'Magnified' mucks around with accents and time signatures, but can really only boast in octaved vocals as its lone brownie point, while 'You Are the Glory' can only lean on the amplitude generated by minor chords ground upon a slowed-down 6/8 groove as its passport to existence; really, it deserves automatic deportation by virtue of lethargic wordplay.

Such uneven moments are splattered throughout this effort, and they frequently short circuit the band's ambition. The octaved piano plonks in 'Wonderful' merely double up the melody, while the haphazard combination of rock surges and twinkly synthpop pitter-patters suggest an overcrowded studio with one too many itchy knob twiddlers. Elsewhere, campy violins and Enya-styled wails are woven through 'Our God Is Coming' in some anemic attempt to channel tribal verve, while the hideous bridge that ushers in 'Center Of It All' is a portend to the song's general repugnance. "If I have You and nothing else, I have everything / If I have everything but You, I have nothing", prophecies Egan in a dreadful paraphrase of the gospel of Mark, and the overarching abonimation extends to the dreary guitar downstrokes and dorky keyboard chimes.

Fittingly, the melodic blandness of closers 'We Will Not Forget' and 'Take Me To The River' serve as foolscap-boring fullstops to what ends up being one of the poorer New Life productions to date. Gone are the days when a five-word chorus like 'Amazed' could tiltilate. Instead, Center Of It All is a brutal exhibition of one man unable to plug the gaping holes left by the departure of his first mates, and Egan needs more help than token visits from a few prominent Christian artistes. Heck, the 'desperation' that is lodged in the band's moniker can no longer be ignored. A panting deer needs water, and Desperation Band needs a new nucleus. Maybe Danny Ainge can do something about that.

Track listing:

1. All To Him
2. Wonderful
3. Strong God
4. Magnified
5. God You Are My God
6. My God
7. Our God Is Coming
8. Center Of It All
9. This I Know
10. You Are The Glory
11. We Will Not Forget
12. Take Me To The River
13. River Flow

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Release date: 2 March 2012
(Independent)

You couldn't expect Martin Smith to stick to charity work for too long, could you? Oh sure, it's fulfilling, it's meaningful, it's ladidadidoo. It could even have satiated for a moment. But then as Smitty was digging wells for impoverished communities, you could almost hear the audible hum of an anthem being penned there and then, and slowly visions of a studio would come flooding back, pulsing through veins that have gathered moss and rust...

God's Great Dance Floor is the culmination of that popped vein. Two-and-a-half-years after Delirious? played their final show, and with fellow members starting new rock acts or sticking close to their music roots, Martin Smith declared he was focussing his time on Compassionart. It was a noble pledge, but not something that we could easily get used to. And with this EP, Smith suggests that a lifetime of unreleased clarion calls was not something he was going to make routine either.

Subtitled 'Movement 1', the brevity of this four-track EP suggests that Smith is still at the toe-dipping stage. He shouldn't have to fear, at least not with such a stellar reintroduction as 'Back To The Start'. Anchored by serene chordings of a Fender Rhodes, Smith makes his opening plea, "Waiting for you, be my rescue". The rock star has found solitude, and the silence has afforded him the luxury of introspection. It's never a pretty picture, uncovering the warts that have been swept beneath years of stage-soaked hysteria. But it's a necessary endeavour, and Smith allows us to witness that struggle with his inadequacies. "Healer, burn away this pain", he cries. "Hold me, I'm a fire not a flame". That fire steadily ignites, first with confident acoustic strums, then rumbling toms, then an eruption of strings, cymbals and Smith's rousing tenor. Then comes a blistering third act, triggered by synth arpeggios and an ecstatic Smith whopping and gushing, "I am alive on God's great dance floor". A trumpet exclaims, and we gasp in amazement.

The triumphant  'Soldiers' is up next, and at this point, one thing is most evident: where Smith's fellow Delirious mates conveniently snuggled into other rock settings and kept their three square diets of overdriven chords and verse-chorus-bridge constructs, Smith is the tireless voyager, allowing his tinkering mind to spin forth deliciously intricate movements that go beyond mere axe chugging. 'Soldiers' applies the familiar muscularity of Brit rock at first glance, but builds his backbone with temporary key changes, a woozy bridge section, and a joyously goofy outro that lumps an all-male choir with more euphoric brass lines. It's as if Smith has enlisted all of Buckingham Palace to his living room.

It's hard to forget that Smith was also arguably the first worship leader with the vocal timbre of a rock star, and on the EP's latter two tunes, he emotes magnificently. His edition of 'Waiting Here For You', a song he co-penned with Chris Tomlin and Jesse Reeves, is faithful adaptation bouyed by some smokey cellos, but Smith's range allows for an extra octave thrust throught the song's apex. Counterpointing that is the deceptive simplicity of 'You Carry Me (Psalm Of The Broken)'—deceptive because shifting time signatures and a disciplined approach to dynamics are harder than they appear. The plaintive bridge of "Be lifted up" could easily escalate into more cymbal thrashing, but instead, a six-note piano loop pedals on with unassuming grace, and just like that, it ends. God's Great Dance Floor is the kind of party where you don't mind that the DJ has long packed his vinyls and speakers, because the company is that good to hang around.

Track listing:

1. Back To The Start
2. Soldiers
3. Waiting Here For You
4. You Carry Me (Psalm Of The Broken)

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Rating: 2/10

Release date: 28 February 2012
(BEC Recordings)

You suspect that Aaron Gillespie is the type of artist that prefers the stage to the studio. With a trail of aggression in his wake, the former Underoath drummer and vocalist for The Almost is virtually begging to be thrust under parcans, where that blistering voice can be fully appreciated, and where all the pent-up energy of a 28-year-old rocker can be discharged.

One year after releasing his debut solo worship release Anthem Song, GIllespie gets the chance. And on his six track live EP Echo Your Song, it appears he isn't wasting a microsecond of it. Recorded in Canada in April 2011, Gillespie floods his congregation with three Hillsong tracks, a hymn, and three of his own own tunes, and then slots a persistent barrage of berating in between every other phrase. There are incessant pleas to offer a "SHOUT OF PRAISE!", or "MAKE SOME NOISE!", or simply, "C'MON!". Early on, Gillespie tells the crowd, "I know you got to keep your cool points up", a comical urging if there was ever one. At the end of 'Came To My Rescue', he insists that the masses repeat the bridge, but not just sing it, but "make it a statement, MAKE IT A STATEMENT!". Evidently this is one worship leader high on ADD, and low on monitor volume.

Perhaps his fanbase aren't typical churchgoers—an understandable assumption, given Gillespie's metalcore origins. In which case, at least GIllespie is well aware of his tongue-pierced, punk-coiffed demographic, and that understanding alone channels far more C86 vibe that most worship records. But weird populace or not, Echo Your Song doesn't possess enough sonic propulsion to convince outcasts that church tunes go toe to toe with the Sonic Youths of the world. Gillespie's self-penned tracks, 'We Were Made For You' and 'Anthem Song', amble along with a kind of bottled potency that is awkwardly contrasted against the frontman's bubbling energy which can never be fully uncorked by such prissy major chords. Meanwhile, the Hillsong tracks on display are really Aaron's futile attempts to enshrine himself as the bona fide belter of big anthems. On 'Beautiful Exchange', he bypasses the verbiage of the song's verses and leaps straight into the bridge, while on 'Came To My Rescue', the verses are delivered with a kind of dreary half-heartedness, as Gillespie is more interested in reaching the song's most towering section of "In my life, be lifted high", where he can finally scratch that insatiable itch to yabber throughout the tune.

Ironically, it the 19th century hymn 'Jesus Paid It All' that might appeal to the postmodern types best, as Gillespie ably manhandles Kirstian Stanfill's updated version with a notable display of his range. And fittingly, it is the closing medley of a self-penned song in 'I Will Worship You, and a Hillsong ditty in 'Hallelujah', that finally leaves some semblance of palatability on our tongues. 'I Will Worship You' was one of Anthem Song's strongest tracks, and the live version finds him scowling, "chains are broken, healing's coming", before breaking into Hillsong's simple four-word refrain, "Hallelujah, our God reigns". It's profoundly clear at this point how much better less is versus more, yet we simultaneously realise why Gillespie's record label wouldn't dare subject us to anything beyond an EP worth of their whiny vocalist. Echo Your Song is that rare EP that exhausts ears because its chief protagonist hasn't quite learned how to shut up. Somebody please get that Underoath reunion going. Please.

Track listing:

1. Beautiful Exchange
2. We Were Made For You
3. Anthem Song
4. Jesus Paid It All
5. Came To My Rescue
6. I Will Worship You / Hallelujah

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Rating: 3/10

Release date: 13 March 2012
(Six Step Records)

Chris Tomlin should move into multi-level marketing. Can you picture it? The stocky Texan prances onto the gaudy Cosway platform, snatches the mic, and bellows, "Are you ready to selllllll?" He then flashes his pyramid on the overhead Powerpoint, and fellow MLMers gawk at the expansiveness of his network. Matt Redman! Jason Ingram! Jonas Myrin! Matt Maher! The crowd squeals. Tomlin beams. All is full of love.

At this juncture, Tomlin could certainly do no worse in exploring a career change. Not only does he possess the chunkiest black book in church music, he could also spare us from the increasingly putrid dross that emanates from his songwriting brain. His muddy mitts are gratuituosly smeared all over the 10th live album from the Passion movement, White Flag, where nine of the 14 songs are coated with Tomlin's tepid tuneprints. After the excruciating excuse that was last year's Here For You, you would hope that Louie Giglio had the gumption to tell his buddy to mute himself for a season and let other budding wordsmiths have a go. But blood is resolutely thicker, and Christian brothers can barely tell each other about woeful haircuts, let alone the regressing abilities of one sibling's songwriting chops.  

Perhaps Pastor Giglio wasn't privy to the complete White Flag songbook, but merely sampled top and tail, ie 'Not Ashamed' and 'No Turning Back'. Those are Tomlin's only two above-average contributions, and consumers who apply this lazy novel reading technique might think that this release is a riveting affair. After consecutive Passion albums that began with muzzled openings—the lithe pianos of 'Awakening', and stifled chugs of 'Here For You'—the cannon blasts of 'Not Ashamed' are a welcome shot of propulsiveness. The song's fiery pop punk sheen slots nicely alongside Kristian Stanfill's sanitised scowl, and suggest that cartons of spring are begging to be unpackaged. Opposing 'Not Ashamed's ecstatic unheavel is the steadfast assurance of 'No Turning Back', which lifts a few choice lines from famed hymn 'I Have Decided to Follow Jesus', slots in its own melodic variation and some floor toms, and beckons Christian soldiers to trudge onwards and upwards.

But sojourners beware; not even steel-tipped boots will protect you from the creepy crawlies that await, as White Flag proceeds to nibble away on our sanity. No prizes for guessing who is the prince of pfft, as Tomlin's tunes sputter like a Nissan Sunny on its last hundred kilometres. The title track shuffles with a militant pattern not unlike 'Sunday Bloody Sunday', except that its feeble attempts to channel surrender are nullified by tacky metaphors, while the convoluted wordplay of 'Jesus, Son of God' is further entangled by ill-defined arrangements and disproportionate pounds of compression. We're only up to the third track, however, and the ignobility has scarcely begun. 'Lay Me Down' is a shambolic mishmash of fruity acoustic strums and meaningless overdrive, and the ludicrous sped-up outro unintentionally suggests that even that band can't wait for this monstrosity of a song to conclude. 'The Only One' is a haphazard splotch of throaty atonality, and 'Yahweh' is even more inept in flaunting grandeur, shamelessly pinning its pipe dreams on stock phrases and Clip Art instrumentation. 

With Tomlin at his whiny worst, fortitute must be scouted for in rarer regions. The David Crowder*Band are usually reliable candidates for extending the pot of salve, and doubly so, since the 2012 Passion conference also played host to DCB's last ever live show. But nostalgia has no sway over their sole offering, 'All This Glory', which can do no more than plonk out some trite octaved pianos ala 21st century Britpop, and subsequently subdue some riveting lines like "In the middle of this mess, there is majesty / In the middle of my chest is the King of Kings". Meanwhile, the resident Passion stalwarts sound plainly bored. Redman offers a rote rendition of '10,000 Reasons' (then again, when did Redman ever muck around with his own tunes?), and retreats to his country house. Stanfill, on the other hand, has already proven his value on 'Not Ashamed', but a needless insertion of 'One Thing Remains' does little more than exhibit that effortless vocal range. And while Nockels tries her earnest best on 'You Revive Me' by masking those indistinct melodies behind some pained strains and a faith-inducing outro of "I'm alive, I'm alive / You breathe on me, You revive me", even she can't seem to scrub off the stench of half-heartedness. The five-word simplicity of 'How I Love You' might seem pure and unadorned to the fawning majority, but there's also the (cynical?) suspicion that perhaps Tomlin and Nockels ran out of time to complete this song fragment before conference time arrived. 

"This is worth celebrating! This is worth proclaiming!" howls Charlie Hall on 'Mystery', clearly expecting the token "cheering crowd" response. Oddly but aptly, there is none. And similarly, White Flag is underserving of a smidgen of acclaim. Five years ago, it seemed inconceivable that Passion could produce two foul corpses in a row. But with Here For You still decomposing its way out of our skulls, White Flag attacks from the rear, and threatens to cripple our colon. The best defence is prevention, they say, and this time, abstinence is one nugget of advice that every self-preserving soul should desperately heed.

Track listing:

1. Not Ashamed
2. White Flag
3. Jesus, Son of God
4. How I Love You
5. All This Glory
6. Lay Me Down
7. You Revive Me
8. One Thing Remains
9. Yahweh
10. Sing Along
11. The Only One
12. Mystery
13. 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord)
14. No Turning Back

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Release date: 13 March 2012
(Integrity Music)

Why does Paul Baloche bother releasing albums? Oh yes, silly question. Worship songwriters can never just be worship songwriters these days, since visiblity has become such a cherished trait. The more cereal boxes and pencil cases you find your face on, the better. And if that doesn't work, at least get church mums to print your face onto the mugs of their rebellious teeenagers, so that naughty Becky gets a daily dose of Baloche while downing a cup of post-hangover tea.

The Same Love is going to thrill church mums. It's red, has a cool-enough heart, and is plastered with tunes that stick safely within the preset Baloche-ian boundaries of 'Open The Eyes of My Heart', 'Your Name' and 'Above All'. Yet seven albums and 20 years in, it can no longer be ignored that famed worship leader though he may be, the 49-year-okd Baloche is still the possessor of one of the most humdrum vocal tones in worship music. It logically suggests, then, that his albums are actually vehicles for the songs, rather than exhibitions of how they should be performed. The Same Love does nothing to dispel that notion. "Saviour save me, Healer heal me", he pines in 'Reign In Me', while sounding more like someone who needs a double espresso more than salvation. The shivering strings of 'Your Blood Ran Down', meanwhile, could have done with much more teary massaging than the monochromatic singing Baloche offers here. And 'Loved By You' is unquestionably well-penned with Lincoln Brewster, but you'd be hard pressed to believe that Baloche has been deeply affected by the revelation that "I was made to be loved by You". 

He's probably moved, and it's probably not fair to fault someone who just doesn't have the timbre to match his songwriting acumen. Or at least, that's what we've grown to accept, since Baloche has long managed to overpower his limitations by flexing those stellar songwriting chops. But on The Same Love, even that forsakes him more than once. Instead, middling melodies are criminally afforded free passes and anointed with crowns of faux importance, as in the title track and 'Christ The Lord'. And when there are attempts to sweat a mite in this whole songwriting shindig, the efforts are glaringly half-hearted. 'We Are Saved', with Hillsong's Ben Fielding and One Sonic Society's Jason Ingram sharing wordsmith responsibilities and Fielding joining the mics, makes all the requisite melodic curves while keeping the tangents in check, while the stop-start attack out of the bridge to 'My Hope' is about as novel as your third grade son boasting that he learnt long division in class today. Even the supposedly failsafe tactic applied by seasoned songwriters in modernising a hymn fails miserably here: 'All Because Of The Cross' pinches lines from hymns 'Nothing But The Blood' and 'Oh The Blood Of Jesus', yet is completely unworthy of such arrogant rechristening with such a vapid chorus.

It is only by collaborating with some genuinely impassioned folk does Baloche manage to salvage fragments of The Same Love. Kari Jobe is one such crimson-veined child, and her stirring cries are placed front and centre on 'Look Upon The Lord' to amplify the heavenly reverence. 'Just Say' is another fine mashup, where Brothers McClurg's contributions provide a rich ash coat to the faith-filled chorus, "Just say the word and I'll be made whole". And the frightfully gifted duo of Leslie Jordan and David Leonard, aka All Sons and Daughters, make a couple of welcome cameos, first on 'King of Heaven' that features a deftly plucked banjo twinkling throughout, and then in 'Oh Our Lord' which pulses with a similarly muted shuffle. In both instances, the pair's spacious harmonies lend multiple shades of innocence to the songs' regal themes, and prove a neat counterpoint to Baloche's straight-laced delivery.

It's glaring then, that Paul Baloche has to rely on his vast network to stake a claim for relevance. Maybe songwriting royalties just don't cut it anymore these days. The Same Love begs to be covered by infinitely more gifted vocalists, which will undoutedly happen over the coming months. Which makes this one long, expensive pitch to talent agencies then, in hope that budding young acts will quickly swoop at the chance to be associated with someone this respected. Baloche, meanwhile, can start thinking about the colour of his patio. That oughta consume the remaining unspent brainpower. 

Track listing:

1. The Same Love
2. We Are Saved
3. King of Heaven
4. All Because of the Cross
5. Your Blood Ran Down
6. My Hope
7. Oh Our Lord
8. Christ the Lord
9. Reign in Me
10. Just Say
11. Loved By You
12. Look Upon the Lord
13. Shout for Joy

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Rating: 4/10

Release date: 14 February 2012
(Hillsong Music)

Global domination is a phrase that many dream of, but few attain. Hillsong United can stroke their suits with the knowledge that they dwell in the company of the few. Owners of a multi-continent, multi-denomination fanbase, plus a discography that has become a permanent fixture in Christian music collections and church services, there really is very little headspace left in the real of "what's next" for these Australians.

Except, maybe, conquering America. Which is what Welcome To The Aftermath: Live In Miami is probably aimed at doing. The two-disc, 22-song set congregates a stadium full of Americans, mics them up, and proceeds to slay their voiceboxes via an endless parade of crowd chanters. Indeed, do not be duped by the album that preceeded this: last year's Aftermath might have signalled a more matured United, but the live edition is still very much sweaty spunk and rambunctious moshing. There are no prolonged electronic instrumental intros here; rather, thumped floor toms give way to 'Go's fizzy riff and Matt Crocker's boyish gushing, and it's pretty much sixth gear from there on. 'You' replaces its understated synth arpeggios with octaved guitar shovelling and more "whoa"s than it already had, while 'All I Need Is You' doesn't bother with much more than voluminous overdrives and the gargantuan pipes of Jad Gillies. The 14,000-seater arena is thoroughly maximised too, allowing 'With Everything' and 'The Stand' to reach their fullest frenzied states, and giving ample space for the gang shouts of 'Your Name High' and 'Take It All' to be universally belted out.

Yet it isn't purely dirt and gravel here; the very fact that the set list skips the band's first five albums suggests that United are looking to shed some baby fat and elevate that black and gold persona. The effort is somewhat commendable in medley of 'Freedom Is Here' with Look To You's victory anthem 'Shout Unto God', which gives a muscular opening tone to Disc 2. But for the most part, Live In Miami profiles a band that doesn't need to try too hard to be liked. The homebaked church classics like 'Mighty to Save', 'The Stand', 'From The Inside Out' and 'Hosanna' predictably tick the crowd pumping box, but their renditions offer scant modifications on the original arrangements, and quickly slide into little more than pointless singalongs (all in the name of "doing church", presumably). Meanwhile, Aftermath's ditties have yet to warm themselves into the United lexicon, and while they are noticeably more textured, their frail melodic backbones translate into a bevy of much ado about nothings. 'Search My Heart' works in overlapping vocals into a dull bridge, while the calculated plucks of both 'Rhythms of Grace' and 'Bones' cannot penetrate through the overwhelming dreariness of both tunes.

The title track is probably the only newer offering that justifies its presence on a live release, as the song's initial restedness finds support in glockenspiel chimes and wispy pianos, before scaling towards its triumphant bridge, and then unceremoniously climbing down again, like a mountaineer who has beheld Majesty, and acknowledges his place. Still, a clumsy attempt to replicate this in closer 'Take Heart' only draws attention to the song's blatant rip from 'Fix You', pretty strings aside. Because really, why put out a live album if you can't show the world any added dimensions? United's expansive popularity will ensure healthy sales, but this will only add to the delusion that innovation isn't necessary when you're this well-known. Well done in conquering America, blokes. Maybe if you're mulling what to do next, you could try educating them on picking up that goofy accent.

Track listing:

1. Go
2. Break Free
3. You
4. Search My Heart
5. Mighty To Save
6. Hosanna
7. All I Need Is You
8. Bones
9. Nova
10. Aftermath
11. Freedom Is Here/Shout Unto God
12. Like An Avalanche
13. Rhythms Of Grace
14. Oh You Bring
15. The Stand
16. From The Inside Out
17. A Song To Sing...
18. With Everything
19. Your Name High
20. Take It All
21. Yours Forever
22. Take Heart

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Rating: 4/10

Release date: 24 January 2012
(Sparrow)

Make no mistake: Kari Jobe knows who she is. As the most recognisable face in American megachurch Gateway Worship, she has successfully balanced the tension between being "just another worship leader" among others, and being the budding icon that teenage girls in youth groups all want to imitate. Because face it, Darlene Zschech is way too 1990s, while both Cindy-Cruse Ratcliff and Martha Munizzi are better left for ladies groups to fawn over. And which daughter wants to share the same musical tastes as mummy dearest? 

Never fear, darling dears; Kari Jobe will help you build your dollhouse. Where the 2009 self-titled debut barely strayed from initmate heart matters, sophomore release Where I Find You plays out like a little girl discovering the big bad womanly world for the first time. And yes, it’s a bummed out life being a celebrity worship leader. But thankfully, God is Jobe’s Channing Tatum, and she laps up His bear hugs with icky aplomb, dishing out a horrific stream of “Dear Diary” lyrics. ‘Steady My Heart’ finds her whining, “Wish it could be easy, why is life so messy, why is pain a part of us?”, and the woe-is-me flag keeps flying high as she babbles, “Trouble’s chasing me again, breaking down my best defence”, in ‘Find You On My Knees’. Meanwhile, her cover of Bethel Church’s ‘Love Came Down’ personalises the song’s chronicling of an overwhelmed heart deftly enough, but it also demonstrates how cleverly someone can incorporate a popular tune without looking like a shameles pirate.

That Jobe gets away with most of her whimpers is a testament to one of the more endearing vocal timbres in worship music, and she invites us to slip on those bunny slippers and walk a mile or two in them, as opposed to flinging them at her. At times, she convinces. The aforementioned ‘Find You On My Knees’ might be a mawkfest, but Jobe’s broad range allows for a momentary shift towards dynamism in the chorus, while ‘What Love Is This’ is the customary piano-only tune in the same vein as ‘The More I Seek You’, which squeezes out teardrop confessions via some savvy breath control and intelligent interspersing between hushed coos and searing cries. 

Yet it is that same wide-eyed delivery, paired against the placid strains of teenage twang, which frequently saps out much of the intended energy. Both ‘Savior’s Here’ and ‘Rise’ thunder with triumphant victory statements on paper, but whimper out when left to Jobe’s voice and feeble acoustic shuffles. Similarly, ‘Stars in the Sky’ is clearly meant to illustrate childlike awe over creation’s marvels, but a lethargic chorus drapes the tune in a foggy yawn. And while ‘Run To You (I Need You)’ is melodically stirring on its own, the radio-styled treatment it receives here nullifies the blistering desperation of this chorus (something the Parachute Band stunningly rectified in their recent release Matins : Vespers).

In essence, Where I Find You is most palatable when the lenses shift from Kari the Mope, and towards Kari the Victor. The gooey strings that shimmy through lead single ‘We Are’ might not immediately signal bloody heroism to buffbots everywhere, but for the tween demographic, they certainly lend added muscle to this beckoning call to “fight the shadows, conquer death”. Further down, ‘We Exalt Your Name’, a duet with Matt Maher, steadily builds upwards and outwards even as it relies on faint timpanis to provide the briefest hints of gravitas. And closer ‘Here’ should not be mistaken for another prissy piano piece; its minor-centric movements recall Sia's 'Breathe Me', but despondence is displaced by Jobe's unwavering professions that "You will find Him here". 

Evidently, Jobe knows what works, and that's something to be said for one of worship music's more renowned soloists. She is no helpless puppy, despite what those droopy eyes might have you believe, and Where I Find You demonstrates an artiste in full mastery of her limited arsenal. Part of that ammo is the knack for being the big sister that Christian mums are looking for to replace Taylor Swift (who used to be that until her skirts became too short). Fear not, for Kari is here to brush their hair and dab those cheeks. Cuddle up, sweetiepies.

Track listing:

1. Steady My Heart
2. We Are
3. One Desire
4. Find You On My Knees
5. Savior's Here
6. Stars in the Sky
7. What Love Is This
8. Run to You (I Need You)
9. Rise
10. Love Came Down
11. We Exalt Your Name (feat. Matt Maher)
12. Here

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Rating: 3/10

Release date: 27 January 2012
(Parachute Music)

New Zealand's Parachute Band look far too hip to be stereotyped as church musicians. And so it was only ineveitable that these five twentysomethings would one day try out something beyond your typical worship album. That didn't exactly happen last year, with Love Without Measure fitting the mould of vanilla church releases. But Matins : Vespers is the quintet's first proper dabble with all things "experimental". The double album shys away from fast-slow conventions and instead offers an entire disc of ambient instrumentals, Vespers, to contrast against the brighter, daytime disc of Matins.

But while the thematic venturing is bold, let's be clear: it isn't exactly the most novel thing in town to translate times and seasons to music. Parachute Band are no Philip Glass or John Luther Adams, even if their homeland's pretty surroundings provide ample inspiration. Rather, Vespers inadvertently demonstrates their deficiencies as purveyors of sonic atmosphere, instead caricaturising the group as lazy knob spinners trying to sound as pretty as the sprawling greens of North and South Island.

But first up is Matins, and the recreation of creation can only be seen as halting, at best. Opener 'Hope Is A River' lets keyboard twinkles portray the rising sun, but its droll plods are more likely to generate sweaty armpits than bended knees. Follow-up track 'Keep The Fire Burning' is meant to capture the full glories of the morning, but corny phrasing and a recurring four-chord cycle mean we'd rather shield ourselves from the unwanted scalding. Indeed, very little about Matins is warm and radiant, particularly not when Parachute Band remain enslaved to that insatiable penchant to identify with the quirky cool of indie rock. 'Promises' straddles between ragged riffs and dreary chord movements; 'In Your Name' thinks looped handclaps will blind us to the insipid rhyming; and 'In Jesus' is too preoccupied with meandering loops to bother adding more words to its one line. Only 'Run To You ( + Meet You )' fits the occasion best, summarising both dawn and dusk within six-and-a-half gorgoues minutes. "I come alive when I'm in Your presence", cries Omega Levine with a respledent glow that simultaneously espouses the sheer criticality of life without God and the utter ecstasy of a soul resurrected. The song's second segment fades in like the evening, with chimes and sturdy loops allowing Levine to boldly declare, "You will chase me no matter where I run to", and sound fully convinced of that truth.

If Matins is the daytime you'd largely want to forget, then Vespers is the kind of dull night where the Asian Food Channel might be the most exciting thing in store. The seven instrumentals holed up here are surely latent Album Leaf obsessions begging to be squirted out, but the sheer absence of memorable textures and hooks mean Jimmy LaValle might need to do some urgent laying-of-hands action to ensure effective transference of electronica into these Kiwis. The digital pitter-patter of these songs often requires a minute-plus of runway to accelerate, and when top speed is eventually hit, you realise that standing motionless would have been the more vibrant option. Occasionally, a song like 'Consecrate' avoids getting drowned by the IDM fetish by stubbornly forcing organic pianos into the forefront. But far more common is the swaths of pads of 'Linger' and 'Rallentando' that copy M83's sound patches without possessing the same melodiousness, or the woefully redundant 'Simmer' that clinks its way to obscurity by insisting that grandeur is best visualised as a meadow full of dumb grazing sheep. 

Ah, of course: sheep. Maybe New Zealand's tourism board commissioned these boys to provide the background music while bus companies take vacationers through the crisp countrysides. Or maybe insomniacs couldn't actually count those woolly mammals properly, and so psychiatrists wrote to the Parachute Band to help soundtrack the cure to sleeplessness. Either way, Matins : Vespers won't last a full day, and should make you wish tomorrow came faster. Boldness is an admirable trait, but someone should tell the Parachute Band to always make sure the safety clips are well fastened before jumping out of the plane. A broken pelvis isn't very glorifying. 

Track listing:

1. Hope Is A River
2. Keep The Fire Burning
3. Promises
4. Run To You ( + Meet You )
5. In Your Name
6. In Jesus
7. The City Of The Lord
8. Hark
9. Halt
10. Consecrate
11. Linger
12. Still
13. Rallentando
14. Simmer

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Rating: 7/10

Release date: 10 January 2012
(Integrity)

When Leslie Jordan and David Leonard crept up on the church music scene last year, the cumulative sigh of relief must have been heard worldwide. As the American duo of All Sons and Daughters—the "all" being a recent addition from last year's moniker—their folksy take on church music that was on display in debut EP Brokenness Aside emerged as one of the most riveting sounds in existence today, defying the glittering rays cast by the glossy parcans of other megachurch efforts. It also made a second EP an absorbing prospect, chiefly to see what new kinds of woody goodies they might produce.  

Reason To Sing is the hotly awaited sophomore EP, and there is no slump in store here. Instead, the pair deliver yet another booklet of soaring songs that stray from lazy Coldplay-type mimickry. Jordan and Leonard rely on an unmistakable vocal chemistry, and the two songs found here that that were released last year, the title track and 'Spirit Speaks', demonstrate this to profound effect. On the splendid title track, Jordan leads the line, and she ably mimics the song's simplicity while simultaneously sculpting a sturdy sonic tower. Contrasted against such an unassuming approach is the levitating voice of Leonard, and on 'Spirit Speaks', his rousing cry of "With every breath I breathe, with every song I sing / I want to shout it out / Lord I am listening" is infused with a holy rapture that matches the song's declarations of abandon.

It is that intertwining of Jordan's earthy huskiness with Leonard's fiery tenor which forges a spellbinding tapestry unrivalled in church music today. Yet while the duo's stylings might seem excessively modest, when applied to such eminent themes as salvation and creation, they accentuate the childlike wonder. "I need to know that you're still holding the whole world in your hands", cries Jordan tentatively on the title track; the divine pivot comes in the astounding bridge refrain of "With every victory, You sing it over me now / Your peace is the melody, You sing it over me now", and leads to Jordan repeating that chorus with a newfound confidence, culminated by the final faith statement of "That is a reason to sing". Yet for Jordan and Leonard, the God of their songs is not just Purpose, but Power. 'Oh Our Lord' borrows from Psalm 8 in celebrating the Creator's sprawling handiwork, while 'Buried In The Grave' heralds the Win with stirring phrases like "You buried death by taking on the grave" and "No longer emtpy handed, clinging to the cross", plus some frenzied strumming and three steadfast words, "It is well", describing the settled state of a saved soul.

Discovering the Almighty is one thing; forging an appropriate response is another, and as Reason To Sing heads towards its conclusion, there is a clear shift from mere pretty soundscapes and dainty wordplay, and towards genuine heart actions. In 'All Praise To You', Jordan and Leonard are joined by a full choir to roar, "Hear our cries, Lord, come shake these walls / Oh and rattle the steeples, Lord, we are Your people". Follow up tune 'Wake Up' is even more definitive in its insistence that the redeemed masses "wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up", and the choir are quickly reintegrated for a final coda, where the instrumentation quickly dies down, then builds back in tandem with the call to resurrect the dormant giants within.

Still, one footnote must be ajoined here. With harmonies this gorgeous and stories so painstakingly shaped, it would be convenient to overlook the one clear inadequacy about this EP, which is the lack of musical growth from Brokenness Aside. One might argue that this wasn't meant to be a signifier of development, since a full-length release is expected later this year that will incorporate both EPs. Indeed, that would all be marginally convincing—if it wasn't for the fact that Integrity Music has signed this outfit, in which case the whole "poor man's route to music making" guise suddenly reeks of clever marketing.

Still, it is ample credit to All Sons and Daughters that they are able to blot out the cynicism by sheer lack of pretense. The final reprise of 'Reason to Sing' demonstrates this, as its ebbs freely and plaintively like a spontaneous session that had to be captured, imperfect pitching and all. If anything, Reason To Sing does what those savvy PR types wanted it to do, which is whet our appetites for the full-length, if only to see whether Jordan and Leonard are capable of sustaining attention for longer than 30 minutes. You suspect that they'll be alright, if only because such musical intelligence can't possibly be overpowered by longer runtimes. Bury the smirk then; All Sons and Daughters are the real deal, and we best be part of their family. 

Track listing:

1. Reason to Sing     
2. Oh Our Lord
3. Spirit Speaks 
4. Buried in the Grave
5. All Praise to You 
6. Wake Up
7. Reason to Sing (Reprise)

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Rating: 5/10

Release date: 24 January 2012
(Kingsway)

Acoustic albums are always tricky affairs. At their best, they offer listeners a thrillingly new facade to excessively poppified acts; at their worst, they prove that such poppified acts don't have another facade. The Loft Sessions, from Bethel Music, is an attempt by one of church music's stalwarts to prove they too have ambidextrous qualities. Which is a tragic thing for church music to have to prove. So stereotyped has the genre become, that a special acoustic album must be made to offer some semblance of an alternative palate from the usual arena rock fare.

Ah well, at least they're trying. Drawing from last year's Be Lifted High and solo releases by Brian & Jenn Johnson and Jeremy Riddle, together with a host of new songs, the ever-prolific Bethel Music want you to believe they can function capably without the fuel of crowd hysteria. Their latest take on 'One Thing Remains' suggests they might actually have a case. The tempered arrangements substitute the song's naturally grandoise construct for measured "ooo"s, brushed snares and minor-centric chords, thus translating the song's central refrain, "Your love never fails, it never gives up / It never runs out on me", from a belly-belching declaration into one doused in the regal majesty of quiet confidence. Further down, 'Fall Afresh', the standout track from Riddle's Furious, surrounds its riveting melody with a fog of swirling atmospherics, even as Riddle's hushed delivery lends an added layer of wonder.

Yet beneath every silver lining lies a chubby cloud, and Bethel can't quite scrub off those traces of arena rock that has come to define church music this century. Sure, both Riddle's 'Walk In The Promise' and Jenn Johnson's 'Come To Me' initially float upon a misty mix of piano, strings and shuffling drum patterns. But the bridge crescendos are inevitable, and they awkwardly invade proceedings, as if the lot momentarily forgot they were meant to recreate the limited sonic dimensions afforded by confined space. Too much megachurch chugging can have that indelible effect on worship leaders, it seems.

The new tunes are equally mixed. 'My Dear' and 'You Know Me' are gorgouesly ensconed in a plethora of lavish harmonies, amplified by the ingrained hunger channelled through Hunter Thompson's vocals on the former and Steffany Frizzell on the latter. Further down, 'This Is What You Do' tingles with goofy pleasure, where handclaps accentuate the song's freewheeling lyricism found in repeated lines such as "It's like living for the first time". But elsewhere, 'Angels' is far too placidly penned to survive the unplugged treatment, while the banjo that percolates through 'You Have Won Me' is about the only thing novel about an otherwise unremarkable amalgam of cliche Christian phrases.

Perhaps the most welcome thing about The Loft Sessions is that it is completely devoid of cheering crowds. By allowing songs to just start and end, sans girly squeals and congregational "whoop-whoop"s, Bethel actually suggest that they are performing for an audience of One. The Loft Sessions is by no means an MTV Unplugged in New York, but it does help us to appreciate the outfit's self-confidence and maturity. Stillness can be an infuriating experience, but a silenced soul is often the one that earns the right to speak first. So speak, Bethel, for your subgenre heareth.

Track listing:

1. One Thing Remains (feat. Brian Johnson)
2. My Dear (feat. Hunter Thompson)
3. You Have Won Me (feat. Brian Johnson)
4. Come to Me (feat. Jenn Johnson)
5. Walk in the Promise (feat. Jeremy Riddle)
6. You Know Me (feat. Steffany Frizzell)
7. Angels (feat. Brian Johnson)
8. Fall Afresh (feat. Jeremy Riddle)
9. Draw Near (feat. Jeremy Riddle)
10. This Is What You Do (feat. Matt Stinton)

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Rating: 3/10

Release date: 10 January 2012
(Vineyard Music)

There was also a time when Don Moen and 'God Is Good All The Time' was the closest Christians could get to moshing. There was also a time that Vineyard Music felt like the indie alternative. Proponents of songs at their most naked and earnest, these founding fathers of contemporary church music gave us permission to form four-piece bands and belt out songs at our atonal worst, believing that God looked at the heart and not the four chords we knew. Vineyard was the Pixies of churchdom, and we were the monkeys going to heaven.

How times have changed, of course. Pop polish has reentered church music, and although pockets of punk are once more emerging, this time Vineyard aren't part of the rebellion. Instead, music distribution has become their dominant calling, and album releases have become low-profile affairs. Furthermore, last year's Live In Miami release was decidedly un-Vineyard, what with all that salsa funkiness. White man rock is what defines these hippies, but in a scene as diverse as present day church music, there appears to be no country for bleached men.

You could see I Love Your Presence as the intended return to prominence then. Recorded in the Vineyard Church North Phoenix during a worship conference, the album exhibits most of Vineyards stable of worship leaders, including Casey Corum, Autumn In Repair's Steve Jones, and Trent's Nigel Briggs. But evidently, sitting behind fax machines sending invoices to CD duplicators has taken its creative toll on this lot. I Love Your Presence is draped in a distinctly tame brand of American country twang, which inevitably pigeon holes the record into limp, Bible Belt territory. Opener 'Let It Come' finds worship leader Matt Turrigiano liberally applying bendy phrasing and limp slide guitars, while Kristen Ford's 'Love Of God' is similarly infected by freestyle Telecaster and harmonica noodling. Both tunes are capably penned at their core, but the narrow instrumentation negates any perceived energy.

Nevertheless, simplicity has always been a Vineyard staple, and the album's scattered highlights are found in tunes that try not to over-compensate. Chris Lizotte, whose grovelling tenor recalls Lifehouse's Jason Wade, is given the honour of singing the smokey title track, and does a fair job in piling on the pious gravitas onto the song's minor-heavy verse, before Gibson crunch bulks up the chorus into a steadily ascending prayer offering. Even more stirring is Anabeth Morgan's terrific thanksgiving tune, 'What Can I Bring'. "This is my song to you, a melody of thanks to you", she purrs in the verses, then glides into a lushly harmonised chorus. Verse two revisits verse one's lyrics, but the octave-up delivery reveals that Morgan isn't casually tacking on a "cheers mate" post-it to God's desktop monitor; there is genuine gratitude here, and the blistering bridge offers the inevitable response of a saved soul, roaring with the declaration, "Had I riches, I would bring them / Had I kingdoms, I would lose them".

The problem with I Love your Presence, however, goes further than earnest Christian confessions. It is the fact that half of its track listing consists of worship standards, new and old—which makes us question the album's very existence. Sure, this was a byproduct of a worship conference, but must we settle for Vineyard releases that are filled with uneventful cover songs? Both Autumn In Repair's 'Saving Grace' and The Violet Burning's 'Invitacion Fountain' get corny modrock treatments here, and not even the presence of Steve Jones on the former song can squeeze out more brain juice from these droll renditions. Elsewhere, Passion classic 'Sweet Mercies' comes and goes unremarkably, Brian Doerkson's 'I Lift My Eyes Up' gets flattened by a soft tom underbelly, and the muscular fortitude of Bethel Church's 'One Thing Remains' is systematically pansy-fied by a distinct lack of dimension. And where the token hymn must feature, the medley of Vineyard's founding father John Wimber's 'Isn't He' and John Newton's 'Amazing Grace' offers scant more than airy piano-guitar atmospherics, Nashville harmonies and spontaneous crowd singing. Did we need a record to prove that everyone knows the lyrics to them ditties?

Ultimately, where I Love Your Presence might have intended to remind us of the raw unpredictability of a Vineyard worship experience, it only proves that more holy passion might be found in your Friday night cell group. In fact, the crayon drawings of those bratty three year olds might demonstrate more creativity than this ho-hum effort. Where Vineyard once inspired us to strum God songs until we slept with our Taylors, they have now given us a cure for insomnia. Thanks for the memories, guys. Now go back to your file cabinet.

Track listing:

1. Let It Come (Feat. Matt Turrigiano)
2. Glory to the King (Feat. Chris Lizotte)
3. Saving Grace (Feat. Steve Jones)
4. What Can I Bring (Feat. Anabeth Morgan)
5. Love of God (Feat. Kirsten Ford)
6. One Thing Remains (Feat. Casey Corum)
7. Now And Ever (Feat. Nigel Briggs)
8. Invitacion Fountain (Feat. Steve Jones)
9. Sweet Mercies (Feat. Anabeth Morgan)
10. Isn't He / Amazing Grace (Feat. Casey Corum)
11. I Love Your Presence (Feat. Chris Lizotte)
12. Perfect Sacrifice (Feat. Nigel Briggs)
13. I Lift My Eyes Up (Psalm 121) (Feat. Matt Turrigiano)

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Release date: 10 January 2012
(Essential)

Trust the Irish to warm our blood. Three years ago, Rend Collective Experiment did just that, releasing their debut album Organic Family Hymnal and drowning our dulled church music senses with more sugar and spice than a bottle of Baileys. Where countless others were aspiring to out-U2 one another, this Northern Irish lot saw no shame in departing from their megastar countrymen and taking the lonelier road. The result was a record so impossibly fun it felt almost sacrilegeous. Could church music really do away with its Bono tributes and remain relevant?

An inevitable sophomore album will put this hypothesis to the test, and Homemade Worship for Handmade People is the test tube baby, spawned from recording sessions in the living room of founding couple Gareth and Ally Gilkeson. But nevermind rockstar megalomaniacs for a moment; instead, Homemade Worship for Handmade People gives an initial impression that it is gospel music's answer to Arcade Fire's Funeral, or Broken Social Scene's You Forgot It In People—two Canadian collectives who have garnered renown via a hefty and fluid membership list, and similarly oddball personas. But naturally, such comparisons are are far too convenient. Where Montreal's indie heroes build their euphoria upon a bedrock of tragedy and loneliness, Rend Collective Experiment have opted to squelch their wiggly toes deep into the sands of liberation. And where Broken Social Scene operate with a bevy of kinky innuendos and snarling guitars, these Irish pals prefer playful chuckles and the flighty, frisky twang of banjos and handclaps.

Undoubtedly, Rend Collective Experiment have drawn from the finest of indie's wells, but the liquid that spouts forth is very much their own concoction. More specifically, it's a juice that has been spiked by a kind of unrivalled exuberance which suggests that every lyric should end with an exclamation mark. As in, "I'll sing like it's the first time!" ('Praise Like Fireworks') or  "I've counted up the cost, and You are worth it!" ('The Cost'). On the surface, it appears like the band revels in the most jovial of life's experiences. 'You Are My Vision' fits a banjo, shuffling snares and lush "whoa" harmonies into a brilliant pots-and-pans rework of that ancient Irish hymn, while 'True Intimacy' prances upon a two-note glockenspiel, then skims across bubbling synths and skittish snare loop, which lends a refreshing tinge to such a simple refrain as "There's nothing greater than knowing you".

But these aren't just fun and games here; beneath all that playground gallivanting lies a yearning heart, aching for deeper connections. The album's best track, 'The Cost', demonstrates this layered approach best; it is built upon a skipping sequence of "oh"s, yet the song's bluegrass sheen thinly disguises one most impassioned arena anthem, where spellbinding melodiousness weaves a stunning tapestry. Indeed, Homemade Worship frequently rewards peeks into its intricacy. "I leave behind the cynic in my soul", is the opening heart's cry on 'Praise Like Fireworks', and the introspection is further amplified later in the song via the insistence that "my concrete heart won't stop me". Such pledges of full devotion come in well-measured swipes; 'Christ Has Set Me Free' recognises that "You defy the gravity in me", while the resplendent 'Keep Me Near' offers a plain truth, and an appropriate response: "You are everything that is beautiful / Breathe Your desires in me".

But like the apostle Peter demonstrated, self-realisation can prove to be a far more bitter pill than imagined. And it is here that Rend Collective Experiment radiate brightest, demonstrating that they aren't shy from acknowledging their own inadequacies. 'Desert Soul' tingles with the lines "I need you Lord, but I want to need You more", then progressively fleshes out those pleas with a steady flow of strings, midsong stillness, and a coda featuring soaring brasslines, triumphant drums and the full family hollering, "You are exactly what we need!" And when the eventual album come down is due, 'Alabaster' scoops up a gorgeous cup of acoustic tenderness from the shimmering pool of gratitude, and the droplets that trickle out forge such heartbreaking phrases as, "My lips so lost for words, will kiss your feet".

It speaks bundles that the most radio-friendly tune, lead single 'Second Chance', is one of the album's blander moments; sure, there are characteristically discerning swoons over grace's abundance, enshrined by such crystalline lines as "Your blood offers the chance to rewind to innocence". But the song's single note guitar lines teeter dangerously close to much of modern worship's rehashed templates, and against the exhilerating instrumentation strewn elsewhere on the record, such neatness is glaringly unwelcome. Dishevelled beacons of redemption are the choice vessels on display here, and closer 'Shining Star' soundtracks the triumphant voyage home, with ecstatic trumpets heralding the return of the prodigal. In the end, Homemade Worship estblishes Rend Collective Experiment as far more than one-album novelties; they are quite possibly the most stimulating band in church music today. Homemade goodness has never sounded better, and Rend Collective might just make you pine for more of mum's traditional Irish stew. Lap it up then, because the rising steam is likely to catch fire anytime soon.

Track listing:

1. Praise Like Fireworks
2. You Are My Vision
3. The Cost
4. Second Chance
5. True Intimacy
6. Build Your Kingdom Here
7. Desert Soul
8. Christ Has Set Me Free
9. Keep Me Near
10. Alabaster
11. Shining Star

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Rating: 5/10

Release date: 7 February 2012
(Ammunition)

California is famously the American state where beautiful beach bods abound. And anyone who knows a thing or two about the most obsessive of gym rats knows that they always want to get bigger. It is only apt, therefore, that the muscular Southern California worship unit that is Worth Dying For adopts this same spaz for mass. In just five years, The Modesto-based act have bulked up considerably, piling on the proteins via two studio albums, an EP, an annual youth conference called Ammunion, and this year, an upcoming church plant.

So how else could they expand, but to flex those live album deltoids? Live Riot is the latest mammoth to protrude, recorded before 3,000 people at 2011's Ammunition Conference. The artwork itself doesn't appear too complex: switch an "o" for an "i", splatter more red, and apparently you've got yourself a live album. Yet despite the graphical similarities to last year's Love Riot, this release plays more like a new album, with 10 new tracks among its 15 songs, all delivered by an expanded lineup from the founding trio of Christy Johnson, Sean Loche and Josh O'haire. A customary monologue starts things with 'Rebuild', before 'Arise' channels forth a thick battalion of guitars, intelligently tempered by some svelte synthwork. "Stir up Your fire, stir up Your power / Let it rise within me, let it rise within me", cries Rochelle LeGuern, and like clockwork, the band begins its furious surge of distorted uppercuts, each one swung at dizzying velocity.

It is at this point that we must point out the elephant: Worth Dying For have never sounded more like Paramore than on Live Riot. To be fair, all female-fronted emo acts are destined to be benchmarked against one of this era's most influential bands anyways. But Worth Dying For appear to demand we spot the similarities: the perpetual use of "Riot" is the first dead giveaway, as is the graffiti-styled font. But more likely, it's the expanded array of female worship leaders in tow, each one dwelling beneath the shadow of Hayley Williams's wings. On ska-punk tune 'Freedom Is Rising', for instance, Felicia Turner's upward bends of the final notes of the chorus contain more than a dash of Hayley-esque quivers. And once you start to substitute the Christian cliches that are spouted in those frequent crowd urgings with a few more concert-friendly phrases like "Are you having a great time?" and "You guys rock!", you'd be hard pressed to distinguish a Live Riot from a Final Riot.

That's a compliment in some sense too, since Worth Dying For certainly own the chops. Chunky guitars relentlessly pound, like fists against concrete, and they contribute to the bloody spurts of ardour that make Live Riot mesmerising in portions. 'Risen From The Grave' scopes top and bottom ends with great agility, while boasting a fiery bridge refrain that explodes with the kind of raw abandon the band are renowned for; fewer worship lyrics this year are likely to be as self-immolating as "And I'll dance with you, till my knees go weak / And I'll sing till I can't sing anymore / And I'll lift my hands till they fall asleep / Just to show you Lord, You're the one I adore". Meanwhile, Love Riot's standout songs 'Higher' and 'Closer' benefit from the added voices and the spontaneity afforded by the live setting, which pile on the fervour onto already gargantuan compositions.

If Paramore sits on the secular end of this rainbow, then Jesus Culture must occupy the other, by virtue of being modern church music's primary proponents of passion. Yet while Worth Dying For might share a like-minded unapologetic stance, they have also borrowed JC's grating tendency to overstay their welcome. But unlike Rafa Nadal, Worth Dying For aren't quite capable at sustaining simultaneously high levels of intensity and quality for prolonged periods, and it's the latter that inevitably dissipates as aural exhaustion sets in. Early signs of cramping can be seen in 'Never Look Back', whose skinny muted delays and Hillsong-styled riffing feels comparatively polite against its towering compadres, and 'Love Riot', which exists only to equal the drabness of its studio version. Meanwhile, the tonally bland 'One Love' doesn't even try to venture past its forgettable chorus, instead recycling its melody thrice even as it tries to squeeze some call-and-response energy out of the manic congregation. At least those tunes aren't inherently well-crafted, and don't deserve our attention; later on, both 'Power Of Your Love' and the rumbling 'Spirit of God' might have been tailor-made for emphatic singalongs, but all that axe hacking has long deflowered eardrums, and any chanting simply feels manufactured and drained of its required quota of potency.

Still, there is enough in Live Riot to nudge it a notch or two above its studio-locked predecessors; the final punches are thrown in 'Taking Back' and its vehement insistence that "we're taking back what the enemy's stolen from us", and 'Savior' and its fertile application of more kilojoules of power chords. In the end, there are no second winds here; just one blustery gale, and one sprightly band looking to become a genuine force of nature. You best strap on more than a raincoat, because all signs suggest this one will not relent for a long while. 

Track listing:

1. Rebuild
2. Arise
3. Never Look Back
4. Freedom Is Rising
5. One Love
6. Love Riot
7. World Can't Take It Away
8. Risen From The Grave
9. Closer
10. All I Want
11. Higher
12. Send Your Glory Down
13. Power Of Your Love
14. Spirit Of God
15. Light A Fire
16. Taking Back
17. Savior

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Rating: 3/10

Release date: 7 January 2012
(DUMC)

It's no small matter being a Christian in a predominantly Muslim country. The obstacles are aplenty, and you don't need another BBC report or Al-Jazeera newsflash to remind yourself of the many fine lines that churches in such regions have to tread week in and week out. So when news circulated globally last year about Malaysia's megachurch Damansara Utama Methodist Church (DUMC) being raided by an Islamic group for allegedly preaching to Muslims in a church event (an illegal act in Malaysia), Western churchgoers that paid attention surely had to stop griping about their small group leaders not allowing them to watch Harry Potter, and start saying their "Thank you Lord"s for the oodles of freedom that they actually have.

But kudos to the DUMC faithful; instead of cowering into the sewers and dialing down those "Hallelujah"s for a bit, they've opted to crank things up and churn out a second worship album, Saviour Friend, under the banner Resonate (the name of their creative arts ministry). More pertinently, the church works four Malay songs into the 11-track runtime, undoubtedly giving more ammo for religious extremists to load up on. But such are the bold steps a church needs to take when faced with such opposition.

Unfortunately, that's about as courageous as things get. As uncouth as it seems to pee on your fellow Christian brethren who are grappling with such hostility, the fact remains that a poor worship album is a poor worship album, no matter how many jihad cries surround it. And Saviour Friend does little to suggest that musical gold can be instantly forged from the fires of hardship. More likely, it proves that Planetshakers are a harrassed church's best friend, and that tepid riffs and dorky 80s synths are supposedly enough to get through those winter months.

Saviour Friend certainly doesn't start on the right foot. The intended euphoria of a worship album opener is sabotaged by the tame verses of 'Saviour Friend', while follow up track 'BersamaMu' suggests that this lot still believes finger-tapping guitar solos are the next big thing. Meanwhile, 'Ku Percaya' ('I Believe') bizarrely channels a hotel lounge vibe, with Rhodes keys and Strat squiggles draping our ears in a tacky swath of sequined gowns. It is in moments like this that you wonder, can you just stop singing and tell us some stories about famous martyrs instead?

No can do, for the live worship album remains a megachurch's holy grail. But do not be fooled by the crowd shots splattered throughout the album sleeve; there is very little "live" about Saviour Friend, unless you're the type that can settle for polite clapping and skimpy cheering. Similarly, the album production is precariously propped by thin guitars, stifled vocals and nary a scent of reverb, which effectively renders void any attempt to raise the proverbial roof. The "whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh"s of ''Hidup Baru' and the prolonged guitar solo in 'Bapa Ku' are two victims of this air of weightedness, with neither element possessing enough dynamism to jolt the uppermost decks.

Such saggy production finds a poor partner in the pensmanship department, which is heavily staffed by awkward lyrical passages and narrow Christian vocabulary. 'Worship You', for instance, lazily applies a series of trite superlatives like "wonderful", "beautiful", "mangificent" and "all powerful" into its woeful melody, while closer 'I Believe' pretends to boast punk rock cool, but actually exposes its nerdy behind via phrasing like "Jesus, I believe / I believe he died for me / because He paid for my life to be set free". Unfortunately, such Sunday School wordplay has become typical of so many English worship releases from non-native countries—think True Worshippers and City Harvest Church as prime examples of this—thus suggesting that the globalisation of church music has not quite brought about a memorable localisation within Asia.

Not until 'In Your Freedom' do the riffs finally puncture through, as the bold n' bluesy axe work provides able complements to the song's exuberence. The song's arrival also signals the beginning of the album's strongest segment. Following 'In Your Freedom' comes 'I Surrender All', lilting with a inherent tenderness and an extended passage of spontaneous worship that, for the first time, sees this album deliver on its "live recording" tag. Then comes 'Great Is The Lord', where Malaysian recording artist Juwita Suwito's velvet pipes thrust the song a smidgen closer to those hallowed anthemic statospheres.

That's not quite enough, alas, to buy a free pass. Saviour Friend is not the postcard for the persecuted church, and Resonate are quite a distance from being its brand ambassadors. They could certainly do worse than apply the same kind of tenacity that has brought their home church through those turbulent times. Determination is a ready soulmate, and there are still plenty of seats up for grabs.

Track listing:

1. Saviour Friend
2. BersamaMu
3. Ku Percaya
4. Worship You
5. Only In You
6. Bapa Ku
7. Hidup Baru
8. In Your Freedom
9. I Surrender All
10. Great Is The Lord
11. I Believe

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Release date: 10 January 2012
(Six Step Records)

First, let's get this out of our system: farewell, David Crowder*Band.

Right. Now that we've said our byes, let's see what kind of gift DCB have left behind. As the eighth and final studio album from David Crowder and Co, Give Us Rest or (A Requiem Mass in C [The Happiest of All Keys]) clocks in at over 100 minutes. It is the band's definitive parting token to make sure we will have plenty of David Crowder*Band to carry us through the impending absence, and allow us to replay it years from now, like that dusty VHS which causes us to make that trip to the pawn shop to pick up a VCR and some head-cleaning fluid. Memories aren't easy to preserve, and it helps to have someone do the preservation for you.

Give Us Rest wants to be that treasure trove. The astounding opener 'Oh Great God, Give Us Rest' is certainly a good place to start the farewell party; it finds Crowder at his confessional best, where a plea like "Oh great God, do your best / Have you seen this place it's all a mess" must not be ignored, and the midsong explosion of guitars and snares finds Crowder howling "Let it shine, let it shine!" This light-dark contrast reappears throughout Give Us Rest, which abounds with distinctly Gregorian ingredients that can appear slightly unnerving, as in the choral singers of 'The Great Amen', but which also finds ample room for the band's signature rock-meets-electronica.

That's not always good news, however. For while DCB have undoubtedly defined the college worship scene over the past 16 years, they have also come to define themselves as trendsetters. Honourable as this might be, it also leads to somewhat averse reactions whenever they put out something that isn't remotely genre-breaking. Lead single 'Let Me Feel You Shine', for instance, is closer to Hillsong United than anything DCB-ian, both in its melodic choices and that familiar "whoa-oh-oh" chorus, while 'There Is A Sound' feels like Crowder being unnaturally tardy, somehow thinking that a drab rhyming couplet like "high" and "Christ" would go unnoticed amidst the overdriven tumult. Indeed, Give Us Rest often lacks the distinct left field wordplay of some of the older efforts. Instead, Crowder's phrasing is often elongated to last entire quarter notes, thus distilling away all but the whitest traces of groove.

But Give Us Rest is far more than a time capsule, or at least not just the kind that brings back memories of DCB career; rather, it is a dimension-travelling behemoth that leaps across situations and soundscapes, like the musical accompaniment for some non-linear cinematic tale like 2001: Space Odyssey or, more recently, Terence Malick's Tree Of Life. At one point, it's the towering guitars of 'God Have Mercy (Kyrie Eleison)' that evoke images of ancient cathedrals at their most imposing; the next, it's lo-fi acoustic crooning via 'Why Me?', a Kris Kristofferson cover that is far more suited for those smokey barroom corners. Then we bear witness to a song brimming with gratitude in 'Fall On Your Knees', before being quickly teleported to a rainy funeral service via 'A Burial'; and not too long after, it's a waltz through a cloud of circus show pageantry in 'Blessedness of Everlasting Light'.

These extravagant leaps might be viewed as DCB's attempts to sketch out the grand and discordant adventure of human existence. Heck, with an album title like that, how can things not be epic? But instead of channelling scale, such thematic and stylistic gallivanting reduces Give Us Rest to a somewhat sloppy and disorienting listen. Nowhere is the divisiveness more evident that the final 18-and-a-half minutes of the first disc. 'The Sound Of Light' starts off the headtrip with dainty plucks, which quickly morphs into rapidfire piano work on 'Interlude'. What follows next is seven-stage deluge of instrumentals that must be digested in one sitting if any sese is to be made from the bedlam. Amidst a cacophony of hair metal tributes, Latin incantations and goth film scoring, DCB start off with chants of "Day of wrath, day of mourning", then gradually rotate towards daylight in 'Sequence 4' by singing, "God you came down". The hopefulness is shortlived, however, as the very next segment finds them at a far more Job-esque stance, whereby Crowder snarls, "Have you left me when I gave you all that I had?" Then its back to six-stringed pensiveness, scored by the lone line "I bow low with all my heart", before Crowder offers his final prayer of "Spare us, oh God", while strings and digital pitter-patter swirl all around.

Could Give Us Rest have done without such blatant indulgence? For sure, but then what would a final DCB album be if not utterly ambitious? As disc 2 begins, the thought is incepted in our heads: DCB will forever dwell in the shadow of the ultimate concept worship album that is A Collision. That's hardly a shabby dwelling place to be found, but it also means that any attempt to set the great voyages of life to music will inevitably fall short. It is unfortunate, too, that they've even attempted to wring together such an opus, when a leaner, more disciplined approach would have sufficed. After all, there are more than enough songs to anchor a stellar single-disc effort. Both 'Oh My God' and 'I Am A Seed' merge bluegrass bouyancy with earnest yearnings, while 'After All (Holy)' pedals through delightfully tempered sequencing while Crowder patiently coos, "I've dreamed dreams of majesty / As brilliant as a billion stars", before arriving at a royal chorus that finds little else to say beyond, aptly, "Holy". Elsewhere, 'Oh, Great Love Of God' might be the most church-ready tune in the record, but there is no shame in reminding the Sunday masses about a "Gift of love, a perfect life / All for a wayward bride", and putting such grace statements to such kinetic guitars. 

The exit of DCB might appear disconcerting to come, but the band are quick to remind us about the temporal existance of all things earth-bound, and the intended residence of all of us prodigals. At the start, Crowder sings, "We won't be here long", in 'God Have Mercy (Kyrie Eleison)'. Near the end, the wavering heart rediscovers its compass on 'Sometimes', and Crowder subsequently offers ruminations of the actual final destination. 'A Return' has him crying out, "The son has come home / We're rejoicing", and he soon reiterates the homecoming with more sparse acoustic strumming in 'Oh My God I'm Coming Home', which is exited by the background sounds of an arriving car, an engine being switched off, and feet trudging upon gravel, and towards the cottage of rebirth.

The ensuing hoedown that is to close the final David Crowder*Band album ever resembles a kind of spontaneous singalong session by the cabin fire, where gleeful family members pick up the fiddle and the banjo and decide to belt some gospel classics, namely 'Leaning On the Everlasting Arms', ''Tis So Sweet To Trust In Jesus', 'Jesus, Lead Me To Your Healing Waters' and, finally, 'Because He Lives'. Truth be told, there isn't much musical invention here to satiate ears—just footstomps, handclaps and an unassuming, hearty dose of unbridled praise. It's a tongue-in-cheek gesture that typifies the career-long unpredictability of DCB, and ultimately makes for a satisfying conclusion to one of the most beloved worship bands of this generation. Who's to say that Give Us Rest is the last we'll hear of this lot anyways? Somebody's probably putting together a greatest hits collection, and some live DVD. Or not. With DCB, you could never tell. And that's how it should remain. Long live the mystery, and the eccentric, shaggy bearded folk that dare to embrace it.

Track listing:

Disc 1

1. Requiem Aeternam Dona Eis, Domine
2. Oh Great God, Give Us Rest
3. Lux Aeternam Shine
4. Come Find Me
5. God Have Mercy (Kyrie Eleison)
6. Why Me?
7. Fall On Your Knees
8. A Burial
9. Let Me Feel You Shine
10. Reprise #1
11. Blessedness of Everlasting Light
12. The Sound of Light
13. Interlude
14. Sequence 1
15. Sequence 2
16. Sequence 3
17. Sequence 4
18. Sequence 5
19. Sequence 6
20. Sequence 7

Disc 2

1. Reprise #2
2. Oh My God
3. I Am a Seed
4. After All (Holy)
5. The Great Amen
6. There Is a Sound
7. Oh, Great Love of God
8. Our Communion
9. Sometimes
10. A Return
11. Oh, My God I'm Coming Home
12. Leaning On the Everlasting Arms / 'Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus (Medley)
13. Jesus, Lead Me to Your Healing Waters
14. Because He Lives

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