Reflection – The Present Tense (Songs of Sydney Carter) (1968)

“Reflection have lived with these songs for a long time, and on this record have tried to preserve the flavour of a man’s music as they have experienced it. The front of this sleeve reminds us of the most recent last tense, and our future now rests on the way that we react to the present tense.  All we can ask of any man is our help on our way to the future.  As Sydney Carter has written elsewhere:

To keep running with the truth – that is our destiny.’“

Sleeve notes 

1968 was a year of protests and political unrest, whether civil rights, anti-Vietnam War demonstrations, French student occupations, the Prague Spring or the Tlatelolco Massacre.  In the UK, Enoch Powell’s Rivers of Blood speech unleased an ugly streak of hatred, countered by protests by freshly formed anti-racist groups.  Whilst young people were at the forefront of trying to action change, the tensions of the times were rarely reflected in the popular records released.  The new British rock royalty seemed largely absent, more interested in guitar solos, meditation or nostalgic whimsy than what was going down on the streets.

In contrast, even the sleeve of The Present Tense by Reflection couldn’t be more hard hitting and stark – an apocalyptic, xeroxed image of an atomic mushroom cloud.  It looks like it could have been lifted from a political leaflet.  The content lived up to the cover - an album of edgy interpretations of songs by Sydney Carter, the non-conformist, free-thinking writer, who had been energetically involved in both the British folk-revival and the satire boom of the late 50s and 60s.  The title track succinctly summed up Carter’s self doubt, his undogmatic, questioning nature and his contention that Christianity needed to be relevant for today's challenges.

Carter was a pacifist, who had volunteered for the Friends Ambulance Unit (set up by individual Quakers) in 1940 serving in the Middle East during World War 2  In the 60s, alongside other Christians he had taken part in the CND Aldermaston marches, held on Easter Sunday each year. Whilst he may not be a household name today, such is his legacy,  most people probably know at least a couple of his songs.

 

At my mother’s funeral, there could only be one choice for the first hymn – Carter’s “Lord of the Dance”. Her Christianity was one of community - she ran the Scottish country dance club at her church for decades, organised their Christian Aid week, and was forever chatting to or befriending people who were new to the city.  We had a Bible at home, but I never saw her read it - it wasn't about theology,  just about making a difference.

Sydney Carter

Christian Aid, the ecumenical UK and Irish charity set up to help address the post-World War 2 refugee crisis, had, by the mid-60s, been at the forefront of battling global inequalities and injustices. Their London secretary Brian Frost, an anti-apartheid campaigner, approached Carter to write a song for the charity’s 20th anniversary, where it would be played at Trafalgar Square as part of a Christian Aid organised folk and beat festival. The resultant composition “When You Needed a Neighbour”  instantly struck a chord.  Three years later, Reflection’s stunning version had the streetwise urgency and attitude of groups like the Shangri-Las or the Velvet Underground – spitting out the repeated line of “were you there?” with a snarl  accompanied by a homophonic rhythm.  It offered a route for positive change, reminding us that small actions speak louder than big words.

Reflection weren’t a band per se, but rather more of a collective - a private press record label and publisher as well as a loose group of musicians coming together. The genesis for the concept of Reflection came from guitarist and composer Michael Lehr.  As a student at Cambridge University, he joined the Cambridge 20th Century Church Light Music Group in 1963.  At the same time, he was playing in rock and folk bands and was keen to fuse together the two seemingly disparate approaches. In an interview, published a couple of years before his death in 2010, he recalled:

“The year after I had left Cambridge (1966), I re-joined the group for a long weekend trip to the Anglican chaplaincy in Brussels, where I met some of the then current members.  That's when the idea of Reflection was born, as we wanted to carry on the kind of work that 20th Century had started.  Reflection would be a Christian music recording and publishing partnership, devoted to contemporary musical styles.”    

 

Michael Lehr

With a wealth of musicians and singers to draw upon, Reflection were able to tease out musically the twists and turns of Carter’s inquisitive and restless poetry.  The nativity themed "Standing in the Rain", for example, which railed against contemporary hypocrisy, was delivered with an intensity that seemed to almost pre-empt the folk-punk movement of the 1980s, particularly Violent Femmes' "Hallowed Ground" album.  Reflection's sound never appears to have been derived from the safety of a sanctuary, rather it gives the impression of them being perennial outsiders, never complacent.

Carter’s songs managed to avoid being sanctimonious - humour, self-doubt and despair in the lyrics kept that at bay, whilst Reflection's music could  be raw,  visceral, folksy or playful – a Christianity of thorn and flesh. Highlights of the record included the classic anti-war song "Crow on the Cradle", the controversial, "Friday Morning", the beautiful "Every Star Shall Sing a Carol" and the sensuous and loving "Said Judas to Mary".  That song retells the story of Mary of Bethany who anointed Christ’s feet with an expensive, perfumed ointment, which Judas questioned.  In common with several of Reflection’s songs it has a mysterious psych-folk sound with wonderful female vocals reminiscent of contemporay groups like Pentangle.  A sound that managed to evoke ancient folk origins whilst also being bang up to date for 1968.   It provided compelling listening that both asks important questions and offers some thoughtful direction.

Reflection worked as a voluntary collective for several years, releasing a wide range of different music, involving themselves in theatre and collaborating with other musicians and groups.  Perhaps their most extraordinary album was the 1974 "Sounds of Salvation", arguably one of the most experimental and immersive Christian records ever released. They never took the easy route, but continued marching forward.  As such, they never stopped considering and reflecting the times, ensuring their faith and music remained very much in the present tense.

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