Inspirational fire and Rayyn

There are preachy tunes that tell us to heal the world, make it a better place for you and for me (even for illegal recruiters, pimps and exhibitionists), or really sappy ones telling everyone of His love (the greatest love the world has known), while urging people to reach out and touch somebody’s hand and stare into a tacky cardboard sunset. We’re not going to discuss these songs. (Although, I’d like to offer my two cents by saying that I find it hard to tolerate songs with the agenda of saving my soul, especially if they come from Michael Jackson or a fat preacher slash singer with a toupee and salaginto-colored suit who admonishes me and others to give a hefty love offering…or face eternal damnation. Holy crap, indeed.)

Musicians tagged with the Christian rock label often find themselves dismissed as stiff, sermonizing, Apocalypse-at-your-doorstep doomsayers. And that’s unfair, especially for good bands like Jars of Clay, Third Day, and other groups that purvey music as deft as the heathens.

Independent musician-singer-songwriter Rayyn – who has recently released "One," the follow-up to his self-titled debut – has been labeled as so. I think it’s quite delimiting and unfair. Categories are supposed to be guides, not cages. They help listeners pick out CDs: If you dig Louis Armstrong, you go to the jazz section; if you dig Incubus or Tool, you go to the rock section; if you dig Alicia Keys, you go to the R&B section; if you dig Paganini, you go to the classical section; if you dig Jimboy Salazar, you’re probably Mahal.

It becomes messy when we start talking about acts like Fishbone, John Zorn and Naked City, and Frank Zappa, among other musical misfits. Is Zappa (with those genre-bending Mothers of Invention) rock, jazz, avant-garde or intergalactic polka? Is Apocalyptica (composed of heavy metal cellists) rock or classical? Or what section does Kenny G really belong to? Jazz? Pop? The toilet bowl, perhaps? We can all go f*ck categories and labels when they become too restrictive for artists, because at the end of the day, it’s the music that matters. All we need to be certain of is whether the songs are good or mediocre. Whether it takes us to great heights or sucks like no other thing has ever sucked before.

Now, back to Rayyn. Fact is, you could listen to "One" and find none of the tedious sermonizing shtick. It’s all about crafting clever melodies and literate lyrics. The album is as alt-rock as alt-rock gets. Yes, the songs are all about faith and belief in a divine being, but that’s because this is the thing very dear to the songwriter. (The same way Michael Stipe of REM regards the loved one as his religion.) Art is all about detailing what’s precious to the artist one way or another, anyway.

But be forewarned: If you’re addicted to angst-ridden rock with screaming, overdriven guitars and lyrics about wanting to blow up the outside world, you won’t get your kick from "Rayyn." Breathe, the first track, starts out with a Police-inspired bassline reminiscent of Spirits of the Material World. Incidentally, Rayyn has been compared to Sting in the past, probably because he sings and plays bass at the same time. The comparison should end there; he sounds nothing at all like Sting. Rayyn is in the same vocal ballpark as the Jars of Clay lead singer – yes, you’ve read it before, too.

All Comes Down is a New Wave-y track. Strangely, I’m still not sure why, it reminds me of Rush’s The Trees, maybe because of the syncopated drum accents playing cat-and-mouse with the guitar passages.

I like these lines in Fade: "A million ghosts out there like me/Reaching out to touch a phantom sun/I’m floating in an endless shade of gray/Seeking out the colors where there is none." Of course, we all know who (or more like Who) can save us from all this despair, this lack of purpose, this state of being lost, but there’s no need for Rayyn to overstate his case. Come Undone is another standout track.

Rain on Me is very catchy. Has carrier single written all over it. I like it when the drum machine quickens and then slows down for the "Rain on me" chorus. Neat arrangement.

I like the guitar parts courtesy of Eric Villadelgado (formerly of Erectus) in "One." Empire has this dark, minor riff that’s really crafty. I like the solo, especially the way the guitarist sustains this one note – mushrooming, expanding for a couple of bars. Just like Dave Navarro’s delay-drenched guitar solo in Mountain Song. A most surreal comparison, since Rayyn’s songs have that positive vibe about them, while Perry Farrel’s… er… let’s talk about Jane’s Addiction when we get to the category called androgynous cock rock, dear YS readers.

Only one caveat: The songs sound too processed. Too slick. Too antiseptic. Too Eighties. It would be great if Rayyn went for a "rawer" feeling, considering he and Villadelgado’s have good chops.

And one last thing, this album is superbly packaged (courtesy of a company called Three Fates). Better-packaged is Rayyn’s first album, which won an accolade in last year’s NU Rock Awards, but "One" is no throwaway, what with those bookmarks, stickers and various pastel-hued etceteras included in the P240 disc. I think indie is the way to go for other artists who don’t want to compromise their vision – music-wise, marketing-wise – especially now that major labels are signing, packaging and selling crap.

They’ve tortured us enough with Sex Bomb, Maskulados and Carlos Agassi CDs. (Who’s next Dingdong Dantes?) We don’t need more variety show hosts or bold stars waxing albums and making steamy videos. We don’t need half-hearted covers of ‘70s songs with slick and sickening R&B arrangement. We don’t need more aural root canal. We need new music that’s supposed to mean something to someone. We need more Rayyn.

RATING: Good

* * *

A lot of people e-mailed me regarding the Jaco article last May 16 ("Jaco Pastorius and the Music of the Spheres"). Jim Paredes of the APO Hiking Society sent one. Thanks, Jim. So did Jippo Cervantes who disagrees with my view that the turntable is nothing more than a glorified toaster and not at all a musical instrument. He writes, "Berkelee College of Music is thinking of including Turntablism 101 in their curriculum… also, DJ Radar of Bombshelter DJs wrote a complete score for the turntable titled Antimatter with a full orchestra as backup… this was featured in Time Magazine… Listen to Qbert, DJ Babu, Scratch Perverts, Triple Threat, Ozmatli and maybe you’ll understand how scratching can be dynamic as (the notes created by) any instrument."

Thanks, Jippo, for exposing me as a hippy dinosaur critic who has overdosed on hippy dinosaur music. You’re right, man. Music lovers shouldn’t act like philistines; shut themselves away from other forms of music (or in this case, an "instrument"); and deprive themselves of liberating and inspiring works of art.

From now on, I’ll start listening to turntable music, opera, and Broadway hits collection CDs. Really. Honestly. Peksman.

* * *

Thanks to the Bicol-based band called Sister Cow for personally handing me a demo tape featuring the tracks Twinkle and Hello Me Again. Sister Cow is composed of Ahmad Sohiel Tanji on vocals and Serafin Timog III on guitars and bass – text them at 0919-5563198 to know more about their music. For comments, suggestions, curses and invocations, e-mail iganja@hotmail.com.