ChristianWeek

Like a Jackson Browne for a new generation, Joel Kroeker centres his songs on carefully crafted lyrics. Like Browne, he also performs within the singer-songwriter vein that plays along the edges of folk, rock and pop. His newest album opens with the snare-driven rhythm of "Against Myself," which is an abstract call to self-motivation even though it also admits that self is clearly the problem.

Perhaps Jackson Browne isn't the best comparison, because Joel sees Canadian music—particularly the musical tradition he's perpetuating—as something Canadians have marked out as our own. In one article (reprinted on his My Space site) he writes of singing Joni Mitchell in Hawaii, Ian Tyson in New Zealand, and of the connection he feels to artists such as Gordon Lightfoot, Leonard Cohen and Neil Young. Although he acknowledges a huge musical diversity in Canada, he sees a commonality in "the Canuck bards who are known for their writing mastery [who] all share a high winsome sound."

Closer To The Flame is Joel's second CD for True North—the label that brought us Bruce Cockburn and Murray McLauchlan back in the '70s (speaking of masterful Canuck bards), and has more recently become home to Colin Linden and to the various jazz incarnations of Paul Neufeld.

There are several images that keep resurfacing throughout Closer To The Flame. So many songs mention sun, moon, stars, flames, dark skies, rivers, stones, angels, home and hearts—that they start playing upon each other. It's as if this is the iconography of Joel's life. Joel is not a storyteller so much as a weaver of sentiments; his songs become a place for his audience to sink into with the details of their own lives.

In "Sacred Heart" he sings, "Restless soul singing hallelujah/Lonely stars in a river full of saints/We'll go down to the water side/Shadow roads will guide us/Guide us home through this dark world/Broken heart bleeding hallelujah/Heavy moon with one holy word/We'll go down to the water side/To save my soul."

Although this is a strong spiritual ballad, it would be quite possible, in the context of his other songs, for listeners to take its Christian imagery metaphorically. He says, "When I approach a song I'm always looking for that moment of transformation where the light balances the shadows," and that is what his songs do.

"Hymn Number One" begins with Joel singing over the humming church-like organ of Denis Keldie and builds with the soulful vocals of Amoy and Ciceal Levy—who've performed with Danny Brooks. You can also hear guest-guitarist Kevin Breit of Sisters Euclid on most tracks—he's played with Steve Bell and Norah Jones.

In "Hymn Number One," Joel sings, "For so many years I wandered blind/I followed every path I could find/But every road like a river winds/As the light is growing dim/And the night time moon is sliver thin/All we have is wild within/Steady River, Bring me Home." He says writing this song took him back to his Mennonite roots. However, he only seems to be crying out to the river for guidance—or to the shadow roads in "Sacred Heart"—for he never mentions to whom we need to return. The "Hymn" does conclude with a hint of hope—"But here in the shadows/We wrestle angels/Till we believe."

I believe there is a very important place for art such as Joel's, that hints of deep answers to be found within our Christian faith, but doesn't push such answers at all. Some listeners outside the faith will listen to the gospel music of Randy Travis or the Kingdom pronouncements of Bono, simply because they respect these artists; others, however, need a gentle prodding from voices that sound, to their ears, like their own.

Perhaps we'll understand better if, instead of viewing artistically valuable music as a ministry, we see it as having its own mission.

D.S. Martin is a Canadian poet and writer. His poetry chapbook So The Moon Would Not Be Swallowed (Rubicon Press) is now available from www.dsmartin.ca and www.rubiconpress.org.