the walk
april 2007

i am: bonus track
Like "believe" on the last album (cemented for me after catching "strong enough to break: documentary"), "i am" defines this album. I wasn't sure if this was the track that Isaac wrote partially in French at that songwriting camp so I was initially unprepared for its relevance (that song turned out to be the unreleased, "someone").

A song titled after the most revered name for God--yes, its sheer force caused people to fall face down on the ground (Look it up in the Gospels) is oddly tucked into the Japanese import as a bonus track. Yet, it only serves to confirm my unfounded yet insistent claim that this album is an unofficial tribute to the band's dad, Walker (the walk). Its lyrics I offer as proof:

i am father and son
i am all that i fear
i could choose to give up
we could tear the world apart

When you purchase the import of an album just to listen to it before it's released . . . can you still convince others that you've evolved into a casual fan? Yet, when you receive that import weeks after its release date in Japan, and you're not among the most hard-core faithful--can you convince the faithful that you're still among the ranks? Either way, uncool. But what's the point?

ngi ne themba
Honestly, I'm skeptical whenever people of privilege enter the culture of people they consider less fortunate. This cynicism comes from the chasm I witnessed as a Teach for America corps member between what I hoped to accomplish and the reality that I never truly knew or understood my students . . . not for lack of trying or a desire to bridge that "great divide."

As a person of color myself, I don't appreciate it when people feel they "get me" unless it's in the context of truly having a relationship with me. Even in identifying with the beautiful children featured in this song, do I risk patronizing them? I probably have absolutely no idea what they think of Hanson or the band's noble attempt to reach out to the victims of AIDS in Africa.

Last summer, my doctor told me about her trip to African which included meeting a woman, our age, with several children and near death from AIDS. After this touching account, I was embarrased and wanted to just walk out without telling her why I had come. She observed that this is the culture we're from--where we need to live authentically.

Maybe that means producing a slick song that peeks into the lives of children for whom our lives are so mind-blowingly different--even acknowledging this fact in the lyrics--and then using the money from it to help them . . . and then as a fan purchasing and promoting that song. My hope is that we don't think that is nearly enough or even close to making a difference! It needs to be a springboard for more--even within our own communities.

I don't question Hanson's desire to "give back" authentically, in the best way they know how . . . giving this choir a voice. I just wish I was sure that the words, "ngi ne themba" were truly the boys and girls'. . . at the same time maybe by simply saying them, they become reality.

the great divide
In light of my thoughts on the intro, the most fascinating line, of course, is:

i feel hope in your hate for me

I've pondered this line a great deal--is this an acknowledgement that hatred is not the opposite of love? Apathy is. Even assuming that a person "hates" you can be a bit presumptuous. Yet, it helps to counter-balance some of the self-righteousness that this song might appear to invoke.

been there before
When I began to hear snatches of the new record online, this was my early favorite. What confirmed it for me? The liner notes:

Handclaps on been there before: Walker, Diana, Jessica, Avery, Mckenzie, Zoe, Nikki, Kate, Natalie, Ezra, Penelope and River Hanson

Speaking of liner notes, the band thanks "our creator"--casting off the "code language" of albums past. I guess, by including a song titled by the most sacred name, it was time to just name names.

I'm sure I won't be the first person to associate this song with "Drift Away" by Mentor Williams. But that song has always been a favorite of mine, so it feels very personal, a tribute to long-time fans. Not to mention, there's an unexpected visual of a New Orleans (Why not Tulsa? The blues?) native on his porch, knee clapping to old spirituals.

georgia
I simply love this track--but in a complicated way. In the way, that doesn't allow anyone "outside the fold" to claim it. This track feels so amazingly personal--almost like it's indecent to notice that Taylor's (and Zac) wife is from this Peach State.

So I had to get over, unfounded or real, this feeling that we were being invited into a public articulation of a private relationship. But isn't this what we crave for in Hanson's music? Then when it is delivered, real or imagined, it feels almost too close. Maybe the truth is that, I want to like Natalie--she seems like a great gal, but I want to distance myself from the fascination of her (and the rest of the family). Not in a queasy self-righteous way, but to escape my own humanity.

Setting that aside, the melody sinks into your pores and you just feel the warmth--the sunset.

watch over me
This one feels slightly misogynistic to me. I feel bad because it is an Isaac song. I fail to connect to his songs more than the others ("Hand in hand" Please stop!!) . . . and it's not for lack of wanting to be defensive about him (so easily overlooked and dismissed by the ignorant masses) and his angst--so like my own. I'm sure the back story of this song explains how it is perfectly well-intentioned.

running man
The 70s and 80s vibe to this song almost kept me from jotting down my thoughts until I figured out what the melody the chorus invoked . . . I still haven't nailed it down (ugh!). But the intro invites us to a groovy dance party and it sets the stage perfectly, right-on.

Of course, the title makes me chuckle, in light of the album title. This is going to be treacherous, but the subject matter made me think of material that would befit a Backstreet Boy song . . . providing comfort for a young lady who has been under-appreciated by another man.

go
Again, the placement of this title directly after "running man" points to Hanson's irrepressible sense of humor. The gist or message of "running man" seems to be in direct opposition of the one in "go."

Yet, when I began to think about this song in the context of Hanson's epic battle with their previous record company, it feels more like a mellow "Rock 'n Roll Razorblade." But then, I wonder if I am just too platonic--not acknowledging the band's passion for anything other than music.

fire on the mountain
The fact that the band revealed that a friend reminded them of this song--asked them to recall it even after they had forgotten it, is somewhat endearing. A revelation of how much they value friendship in their lives. Yet, it also seemed like a pathetic example of this friend living vicariously through the band. Yet, that statement came out a bit visciously, when in fact, I'm sure this person is a dear, dear friend.

I find it adorable to pack so, so many metaphors in a single song. Sorting them out makes the song appear more epic than it actually may be.

one more
If this song wasn't conceived at 3:00 a.m., I would be scrawling a prescription for anti-depressants in the same notebook. The frightening part is that the melody feels very much like a lullabye--soothing, almost too "must sleep . . . more sleep." I don't dislike this song . . . it's just very dark, yet not disturbing. Mellow.

I also just received the single, "Go, Part 2" which includes "I've been down." Coupled together (as far as songs tinged with suicidally depressive thoughts go), "I've been down" is deceptively intimate, like Hanson rough cut this song days ago and messengered it over. An invitation to the inner circle.

blue sky
The choir is back on this rocky number. It feels classically Hanson, plugged in! The title a tribute to the band's home state--where blue skies reign. On a bizarre note, I'm afraid this song made me think of "Boy in the bubble" by Paul Simon and the musical "Oklahoma" simultaneously.

tearing it down!
The comment, "It doesn't sound good," and the Taylor command to "Bring it!" that kicks off this song just makes me smile in recognition, because the band is comfortable sharing excruciating details like this. This exchange is followed by Isaac's brotherly defensive, "Bringing it" and someone's reassuring, "You're grooving, you know" followed by what sounds like Zac's laughter. "Taking the Walk" has officially bled into the fabric of the record.

There's something about this song that reminds me of the message, the personal lesson found in "You Never Know." There's a similar passion and potential for fan-friendly deep thoughts. Not only that, I really feel only fans will appreciate the "ni ni ni ni ni" section--which can only be delivered by the band . . . which conjures early Taylor improvisation on "Speechless" and other MON favs.

something going round
My guilty pleasure! I absolutely adore this infectiously bouncy song! I just really hope that the chorus doesn't inspire "where's the love" lasso hand motions in concerts though.

I'm not sure how you can't simply dance when this one comes on!! It's pure Hanson summer time! It's the one that will be playing as you get ready for the concert! Unadulterated enjoyment!

your illusion
The band's frustration with a suicidal companion makes me chuckle inappropriately when I consider Taylor mentioning in passing that he considered "driving off a cliff"--or something to this effect--during the whole record company turmoil. Not that I don't have heart for the band's pain--Goodness knows I've expressed my deep empathy for "Strong Enough to Break" "When you're gone" and "Underneath".

It's difficult to sit through this one--wondering if in a brief schizophrenic moment--the guys wrote this song for their own dark selves. It's the account of their battle against the dark side.

the walk
It's hard to hear this one without connecting to times I've heard this song in concert. The hushed puzzlement and then the muted conversation--Zac playing through it all, often with eyes shut tight. Intimate. Bearing the parts of his soul he can share on stage.

My sister and I recently attended a Michael W. Smith concert, in which Mr. Smith revealed that he had been to Washington. The President of the United States likes to address him as "W." The audience chuckled, for obvious reasons. But it occurs to me that President Bush could also apply this to Zac W. Hanson.

in a way: bonus track
This is an adorable Zac song on what love really consists of . . . take note kids! It's about sacrifice. Calling all flamenco dancers!

i am: bonus track
See above.

light turns green
Finally, as I sorted through this latest album, my primary thought was, "Which track do I offer hanson skeptics as evidence--hard evidence--of the band's talent, evolution even?" I've come to the conclusion that the reason I connect with Hanson songs--the way they wrap around my heart and soul almost instantly will probably not be the same route into a cynic's heart.

I'm leaning toward "Been There Before" and "Blue Sky," but not sure. "Something going round" just begs to be included! Then the following was posted in the hanson.net forums and it addresses the difficulty more articulately than I ever could: The Hanson Challenge.

I feel hanson.net is often an exercise in how I'm only a shadow of a fan. The site often mocks my inability to be as devoted as just about everybody else represented there. Yet, when I stumble on links like this one--I realize that the ardor for quirky Hanson flotsam and obscure international articles is downright faithful among the hanson community. It's trustworthy. Like solid ground. The fertile soil where you plant a seed, a flower or a rose where the band's talent thrives among the ones who still care . . . Yes, I referenced mmmbop.

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