Ordinary experience and extraordinary insight.
Culture Watch
Bob Hulteen 12-01-1994
Amidst the joy of celebrating the coming of the Child at Christmas, many of us are caught up in the bustle of holiday travels, shopping sprees, and plans to serve those less fortunate.
Jill Carroll Lafferty 8-01-1994
The Red Road was believed to be the path through this world leading to the Higher Power.
—Bill Miller
It has been said that one of the greatest injustices done to Native Americans today is the attempt to keep them living in the past. White America is alternately fascinated by historical Native American culture and ignorant of, or apathetic toward, contemporary Native American struggles. We’ll stand in line to see Kevin Costner in Dances With Wolves (with a white man playing soldiers and Indians), but few will ever walk down the reservation road Bill Miller invites us to in his most recent release, The Red Road.
This is a story about a journey. It’s about trails and paths. At times it’s about drifting aimlessly; more often it’s about soaring with eagles and hawks. Through it all, Miller, who was raised on the Stockbridge-Munsee Indian reservation in central Wisconsin, never fails to praise God, to honor his Mohican heritage, or, with quiet forcefulness, to hold white America accountable for its actions.
Miller opens his first recording on a major label with "Dreams of Wounded Knee," a stirring requiem that masterfully blends guitar and flute to call forth mourning and wailing. This is followed by "Praises," a spiritual that transcends time and place through a combination of Menominee chants and English lyrics. Joined by the Smokey Town Singers, a group of Pow Wow performers based on the Menominee Indian Reservation in Shawano, Wisconsin, "Praises" opens and closes with "Ma-Nee-Ta-haem" (We feel good in our hearts)/"Wa-Wa-Non" (We thank you)/"Mau-Ne-Ka-Ko-Saw-te-wa" (We have everything) /"Mah-Maw-Koh-Ne-No" (Our father up above), while Miller praises the Creator for all of creation: rivers, mountains, eagles, his children, and his people.
Jeff Shriver 8-01-1994
Swamp Ophelia is a plant; it’s an actual plant," explains Indigo Girl Emily Saliers about the band’s newest release, Swamp Ophelia. "I was walking through a nature preserve and I saw this plant," Amy Ray adds. "When you think of Hamlet, Ophelia, and swamp, it all mixes together. We thought it sounded cool."
Swamp Ophelia is mellow, comforting, and soulful. Compared with past Indigo albums, it’s less angry, at times more abstract, and mixed with a myriad of instruments. But the strong suit on this record is, again, Amy and Emily’s raw, righteous blend of acoustic guitar and angelic harmony mixed with lyrics that pack a punch.
The album in general feels like a respite for listeners who take a daily dose of the world’s pain and need some breathing space. The lyrics and melody are served up with the cognition of grief in society, but with a personal message of reassurance and hope offered outright. Rather than stirring angry emotions about what’s wrong with the world and issuing a call to activism, this new album triggers a reflection on how life can be a beautiful blessing.
One cut on the album, "The Wood Song," has a radical and, in my interpretation, explicitly Christ-ian message of costly discipleship. It refers to Noah’s ark, its difficult journey, and at times the frailty of the vessel: "The wood is tired, and the wood is old and we’ll make it fine if the weather holds, but if the weather holds, then we’ll have missed the point, that’s where I need to go." The song announces a faith in God, "No way construction of this tricky plan was built by other than a greater hand" and the need to sift through life’s suffering to reach "the prize at the other side."