So I'll just come out and say this from the get-go: I was really disappointed to find out that the latest Delirious? album, the UK-based modern worship band's first since 2005's The Mission Bell, was going to be called Kingdom of Comfort. Perhaps it was because the band had been slipping down an ever-so-slight notch from album to album since they plateaued with 2000's Glo, or perhaps I was just growing weary of the whole "modern worship" movement that Delirious? helped to spawn within the "mainstream" of Christian rock music, but in either case, I fell victim to the question of whether a band that I once loved and now merely liked was relevant any more. Sure, I rated all of their recent albums no worse than a B minus, but I wondered if their formula was going to continue producing diminishing returns. A title like Kingdom of Comfort brought about a bit of mental word association that brought to mind some of the worst traits of Christian music nowadays - essentially, I was afraid that this band was going to be all comfort and niceties and "God will make everything better", and that this was effectively going to put a damper on anything more lyrically challenging, or musically experimental, that the band might have otherwise dabbled in.

Well, I couldn't have been more wrong about that title, or about the album itself. Kingdom of Comfort turns out to be a bit of a comeback for the lads from Littlehampton, mixing statements of bold conviction that call Christians to action with their usual, uplifting praise anthems, and never showing even a bit of discomfort about mingling the feel-good stuff with the squirm-in-your-seat stuff. That's not to say that they've suddenly become acolytes at the altar of Derek Webb or anything, but they're on a similar path as far as this idea of "comfort" is concerned. Look at all of the consumer trappings depicted on the album's cover (some of which will be used to listen to Delirious?'s music, no doubt, and none of which are inherently evil objects), and listen to the brazen statement that this album opens up with, and it'll become clear that they're singing of "comfort" as a thing that shackles us, that perhaps God once gave us in a time of desperate need, but now we make the mistake of clinging to the creation for security, rather than the Creator. It's a challenge that will probably go over the heads of several audience members who happily wave their glo-sticks and chug bottles of water that cost them $5 at a summer festival where they had to impolitely push and shove to get a close-up view of charismatic lead singer Martin Smith and his bandmates. But the sheep-like behavior of your typical CCM audience and the tendency of Christian radio to handle convicting lyrics with kid gloves has thankfully not managed to force Delirious? into sticking with only the happy, bouncy praise song stuff. Actually, I think it helps to give some of their most carefree and even cliched material a bit more weight when considered in context.

OK, enough about the message. How is Kingdom of Comfort musically? Well, I'd have to say that it's not as jarring of an experiment as The Mission Bell and Audio: Lessonover? could sometimes be, nor does it match the smooth-flowing but earth-shattering worship opus of Glo. Whatever experimentation Delirious? did with their sound is subtle, but it also won't leave you feeling like you've heard all 12 of these songs before. You can still hear the U2-like fervor in Martin's crooning, and occasionally in Stu G's guitar solos, but the band's tendency to mimic those guys and Radiohead is mostly gone. Tim Jupp's keys still play an important part in terms of giving added color to a lot of the songs, but there's less of the idiosyncratic, knob-twiddling stuff that we heard on albums like Mezzamorphis. Bass player Jon Thatcher and drummer Stu Smith (the latter in his swan song performance with the band) continue to comprise a stellar rhythm section, giving a handful of rockers the extra push that they need in order to soar, and contributing to the slightly moody, but highly reverent ambience of the slower numbers. There's the occasional flat melody or ballad that takes too long to get to "the good part", but the band's got their most consistent performance since the year 2000 on display here. There are no duds, no tracks that make me think, "Hmmm, this is kind of silly", as if the band's reach for a clever or compelling idea exceeded their grasp.

It took this long, but I dare say, Delirious? is just now beginning to discover its identity as a band that is less dependent on its influences and more confident in its abilities to set trends (at least within the Christian music scene) instead of just following them. That's not to say that they were ever solely responsible for the "modern worship" trend or anything, but they sort of were its flagship band, and they got there by way of making the music of rock acts they loved sound more explicitly faith-based and praise-oriented. Naturally, this was an easy thing for lots of other Christian bands to want to try their hand at, too. And there will always be tons of followers, some of them besting Delirious? at their own game, and most just sounding like bland attempts to recreate the spiritual fervor without bothering to take note of the creativity. As long as those imitator types exist, at least Kingdom of Comfort will hopefully give them something better to imitate.

Kingdom of Comfort
I rob myself of innocence with the poison of indifference
I buy my stuff at any cost, a couple of clicks and I pay the price
'Cause what I gain is someone else's loss...
This is the song that kicks my butt, and I love that they had the guts to put it right at the beginning, where it would be the hardest to ignore. For most of it, the only musical accompaniment is Stu G's repetitive but fluid picking on the electric guitar, and the quiet click and whir of an idiosyncratic, programmed rhythm, all with the intent of bringing Martin's lyrics front and center. His plea is so simple and yet so difficult to swallow - "Save me from the kingdom of comfort where I am king, from my unhealthy lust of material things." See, it's easy for a Christian band to sing about lust when it's someone else's problem, when it's those other people who are sexual perverts or have a maniacal lust for power or something that your average Joe Christian feels like he's not susceptible to. It's more disquieting to hear them sing about materialism, because who in the developed world hasn't struggled with that at one point or another? Still, despite the nearly universal sin Martin's dealing with here, his finger is clearly pointed at himself, making the song more of a relatable emotional appeal than a guilt trip. It's not that having stuff is bad - it's that having no regard for those that your society is stepping on to get you the stuff you think you need is bad. Who goes without so that you can have more, and what can be done to change that? It's beyond the scope of the song to really answer that, but it sets the tone for the album in a way that most "worship" albums wouldn't dare, by challenging the audience as Martin's pleas of "save me" get more impassioned while the drums and bass get more bottom-heavy and the song grinds its way along to a sudden, cold halt.

God Is Smiling
So we must cross the great divide of color, creed, of wealth and pride
Break our hearts and save us all
So can we sing a brand new song, where former enemies belong
It's every heart now, every soul...
And now we can worship. This guitar-driven anthem brings the tempo up a bit, with a call to unity that is classic Delirious? in some ways, while revealing itself to be more than just a rubber-stamping of their usual formula for an anthemic lead single when one listens more closely. Sure, it's a song about God looking down at His children spread across the globe, and delighting in His love for them, but it's more than that. To see the full picture of God's delight, we have to ask the tough questions - "Who is my neighbour?" - and see that God's face shines upon the poor, the oppressed, the people we struggle to love because it's uncomfortable. It's easy to miss this deeper message among the soaring guitar riffs and solos and the relatively familiar "comfortable" language of worship that Delirious? most commonly speaks. But then I don't really think it's this band's fault that others have used similar language in less thoughtful ways, causing us to think we already know the meaning when we hear such a song. I like that the band is able to reverently declare God's central role in the unification of His children, without skimping on the need to exhort the Church to model that unity a lot better.

Give What You've Got
Don't let what you own become a crown when you're old
Don't sell up your soul to the glitter and gold...
This one strikes me as mostly a "just for fun" sort of song. That sort of thing's OK with me when the song actually is a lot of fun. And this one's a blast, locking in immediately with its syncopated drum and bass groove, and layering a slinky but triumphant lead guitar line on top of that. It's been compared to U2's "Love and Peace or Else", except I'd say that this one gets right to the point, musically speaking, where U2's song (which I do also enjoy) kind of meanders and holds back a bit. For a song that's all about putting 110% into whatever it is that you're doing, the music kind of needs to be upfront and a total blast. It's got a huge chorus that just barely manages to not get weighed down by its own clichés about flying - I like the inherent contradiction in the phrase "We're gonna spread our wings and fall into the sky." The melody takes a little "turn" there that gives it just the right amount of hook value, too, just to offset the otherwise repetitive tune. Really, I can't find much to complain about here other than Martin's failure to differentiate between present and past tense - "You know I gave it all I got." (I suppose "had" wouldn't have sounded right or something.)

Love Will Find a Way
I stare in the eyes of this flesh and bone
I'm a tourist here, so tomorrow I go home
I try to make sense of the things I've seen
Between the poverty and the five star dream...
Tim Jupp's keyboards and Stuart Smith's drums are really the anchors of this song - they keep it flowing at a brisk pace, but both elements add atypical colors to a song that sort of takes the scenic route to get to a rather basic point. In that sense, it reminds me of "All This Time" from The Mission Bell - the verses find the songwriter challenging and doubting himself, and the choruses contain a much more confident, peaceful declaration. In this case, Martin finds himself wondering how to make sense of the uneasy juxtaposition between the extreme poverty he's seen in developing countries, and the cushy hotels and whatnot that he and his mates have called home while visiting those countries. That sort of whiplash is an interesting concept to explore, and it's unfortunate that the band dulls the melody and opts for such a straight-edged chorus that threatens to reduce the whole thing to a Hallmark card: "Your love finds a way to break through, this love finds a way to kiss you." It's a halfway good song that needs a little retooling for its chorus to really stand out.

Eagle Rider
I hear the spirit speak, whispering my name
Gentle as a butterfly in a violent hurricane...
This song oozes coolness with its minor-key acoustic strumming, and Martin singing the voices in a lower tone than we're used to hearing from him. It sort of subverts his usual "excitable street preacher" persona for a little bit, at least until he gets to the chorus. This one's basically a rephrase of Isaiah 40, the well-known Bible verse about those who have faith in the Lord being able to soar on wings like eagles. The lyrics make an intentional nod to "Give What You've Got", as if to connect the two songs thematically. All three stringed instruments really lock in to make this one memorable - the electric guitar's careful phrasing nicely balances the consistent, syncopated acoustic rhythm while Jon Thatcher's bass adds a lot of thickness to the groove. This one would probably be a favorite of mine if not for Martin's sometimes awkward phrasing. The very title "Eagle Rider" sounds a bit corny to me, even if I like the overall idea of adapting the verse into one's own words.

We Give You Praise
Through the avenues of time
Here You meet me where I am
We walk with glory and pain, and You've broken the chains
So there's no stopping here...
The diminutive piano intro and Martin's hushed tone at the beginning of this song should tip you off that we're back in classic Delirious? worship ballad territory here. You can predict the gradual build from one man and a piano to a full, impassioned choir of voices by the time it gets to the bridge, but that doesn't mean it's not an enjoyable buildup. It's essentially a thankful response after God answers the prayer from the album's first song - "The King of all the earth has saved us from ourselves". I find that worth pointing out because I hear a lot of praise songs about God saving you from adversity, some vague enemy, or some vague problem that was caused by somebody else or some impersonal weather system - most of the time we merely pay lip service to the idea that I am a sinner and I am the reason Jesus had to do what He did. Sorry to get all theological, but it's the little things that make these otherwise seemingly standard praise songs stand out to me a little more. All of that said, I'm kind of curious as to what Martin's exhortation, "Together we are stronger, so put your hand in mine" has to do with the rest of the song. There's a theme of unity among Christians throughout the album, but since this song seems to be more about God saving us from stuff we can't fix on our own, it seems odd to address part of the song to fellow Christians and say, "Here, we'll help each other."

How Sweet the Name
So many songs I've sung
But there's none more beautiful than You
And here I've found myself
So I'm happy to be lost in You
This track is the album's starkest moment - honestly, I'm not sure if it was wise to place it right after "We Give You Praise", because it puts the disc in a temporary rut. I can see the subtle beauty to this one, sort of resembling a piano-based version of Glo's "What Would I Have Done?" for most of its five-and-a-half-minute run, as Martin simply ponders what it means to be saved and how thankful he is and... yeah. This is your more typical "modern worship" language, and it doesn't carry the same depth that some of the other tracks on this album do. Just to subvert expectations, the band starts to fiddle with the knobs a bit midway through, as Martin, sounding wearier than ever, repeats the mantra, "Every soul needs a savior", which suddenly starts to get stretched out and digitized and overrun with thick, glitchy percussion. It's a total Mezzamorphis moment (think "Blindfold"), and it's kind of cool since the song is straightforward enough that it doesn't seem like it would be expected to fit. But it takes too long to get to the good stuff, I guess.

Wonder
Is it any wonder that You stole this heart of mine
Is it any wonder that our worlds are now entwined
Often I have wondered if I need a redesign...
The band has certainly taken a more intimate turn during the album's midsection, and here they work their way back up out of their more somber, meditative mood as the soft call of electronic keyboards establishes more of an upbeat pace, and Martin offers simple sentiments about how he simply couldn't help but fall in love with God, given the grace and mercy on display. I like the general idea of taking more of a "mid-tempo" tune and using Jupp's keyboards to add just the right amount of shading to keep it interesting, but this one has its fair share of moments where it feels awkward and cliche - most notably the repeated phrase, "Oh sweetheart, you've broken this sweet heart." I know Martin's trying to be clever there, but if I had to think about the condition of a human heart that needed to be broken by God, it would be anything but "sweet" before that intervention, so the lyrics doesn’t really make sense.

Break the Silence
We turn the page to a future just begun
If heaven is real, then let our heaven become
Peace on earth, let it flow...
More angular electric guitars and a thick, relentless bass groove are the immediately defining characteristic of this bold rocker, which once again brings us back around to the idea of Christians being unified instead of divided. It doesn't really go into specifics or encourage the same level of theological musing as a song like "God Is Smiling", but it's fine as far as CCM anthems go - a robust performance with just the right amount of "punch" to its chorus. The one idea that seems to come through here is that "heaven" is not only some faraway place where we all go when we die - it's something that can be experienced now if the Church is willing to set aside its petty reasons for being divided.

Stare the Monster Down
Eighteen weeks of chemo, six doses of hell
A family bucket of pills a day to make my father well...
Getting even more sharp-edged and blunt is this rocking ode to facing fears - a song which feels like it took everything about "Paint the Town Red" that made it sound like it was trying too hard, and made it all work. Martin's thinking out loud here, wondering how the larger-than-life, saintly Christians who we revere (you know, people in platinum-selling Christian rock bands and all that) can suddenly recoil and give into fear and seemingly forget everything they've said or sung to encourage others. He takes fear head-on in this song, taunting the Devil himself and say, "You're not gonna win". But this isn't one of those Carman-esque "beat up on Satan"-type songs; it's simply asking all of us Christians why we let fear get a hold of us when we know God is bigger than that. Martin's unflinching delivery of an example of a fearful situation - his father being diagnosed with terminal cancer - is well-timed. He doesn't try to do the broad-sweeping thing and describe the fears of absolutely everybody, he just addresses one example of (presumably) a situation from his own life where he needs to just stare it in the face and say he's not just gonna ignore it and hope it goes away. He knows we're smart enough to extrapolate to our own personal demons, and we'll take those blunt instruments forged from Stu G's fiery guitar riffs and bludgeon those monsters to death on our own. (With God's help, naturally.)

All God's Children
Hope will come to those who wait, as the heart of heaven breaks
For these are the days when the least of us all see the coming King
For these are the days when injustice will fall at the coming King...
If it feels a bit familiar to have a big, jerky rocker with a sudden, slicing ending that finds a contemplative, sprawling worship anthem slowly fading in afterwards, that's because tracks 10 and 11 on The Mission Bell performed a similar lead-in to that album's finale. Fortunately, comparison of the individual songs reveals Kingdom of Comfort to have stronger entries on both counts. I did like "Take Off Your Shoes", but this one blows it out of the water - it might be my favorite track on the album. It seems fairly ordinary at first - there's a subtle but majestic glow to it as a pre-programmed keyboard loop runs up and down in the background and Stuart Smith's gently rolling drums roll out the proverbial red carpet for the King who is about to enter. It's a simple anthem of hope for the oppressed, a passionately sung creed that puts us all in the same, equal place, all falling on our faces at the arrival of this King who blots out all injustice - even that which we, the comfortable and uncaring residents of the developed world, were the ones responsible for - and makes us all equally humble, and equally loved. You'd think that a song which simply had a chorus stating "All God's children, we will sing hallelujah" would be bone-headedly simple, but when they bring in that chorus of children, whose English sounds heavily accented enough that you figure they had to have been rounded up somewhere in Africa or Asia or somewhere that the band made a stop on some sort of missions-oriented trip, then it becomes truly transcendent, in much the same way as Jars of Clay's "Light Gives Heat". I know that sounds ridiculously cliched on paper - Oh, sure. Bring in the kids, then everyone will be forced to think it's cute. But just trust me on this one. It's powerful stuff, and the song doesn't seem to overstay its welcome one bit despite being almost six minutes long.

My Soul Sings
We're standing still in a moment of eternity
Where worlds collide, and I feel the breath of heaven over me...
The album's finale, which is also its longest song, is the kind of thing that you'd expect to be another one of those super-slow, gradually building, weepy ballads. We just had one of those, and I rather like that Delirious? sidesteps our expectations once more by actually giving us a closing track that's fairly upbeat. It's not a rocker or anything, but it starts of with this gleaming, confident guitar riff, and carries itself at more of a medium pace, as Martin sings his ode to the eternal mystery of God. If the previous song looked forward to a heavenly unity among rich and poor here on earth, then this song seems to ponder the magnitude of that final, massive chorus of voices that will be formed in the hereafter. It's not a terribly deep song, lyrically speaking, but the true depth of it is in the music, allowing the sky to open up above this simple five-piece rock band playing their earthly instruments, and in a rather striking assault of reverb and layering and miscellaneous studio effects, the chorus is heard, being echoed by that legion of saved souls freed from the constraints of time itself. It's a beautiful piece, where the band gradually gets out of the way and allows a generous few minutes for the heavenly voices to wrap up the song and the album on their own, allowing the listener to picture what heaven might just be like, and slowly allowing it to fade away into the infinite distance, the sound shrinking and finally collapsing into the singularity of an ethereal bass tone.

I like that Delirious? is the type of band who keeps pushing at the borders of their comfort zone (and the listener's) in small ways. They're not gonna generate any sort of scenester buzz when you stack them up against the latest revolutionary indie rock act, and there will probably always be other Christian rock acts who are always more "cutting edge", but I think they've remained faithful to their own evolution as a band without sacrificing that quality of being easy to join in and sing along to and relate to the meaning of the songs on an emotional/spiritual level. If you found yourself losing touch with the band after World Service and The Mission Bell, I can promise you that now's an excellent time to come back and fall in love with their music all over again. Despite the few flaws that still linger, I certainly have.

ALBUM WORTH:
Kingdom of Comfort $2
God Is Smiling $1.50
Give What You've Got $1.50
Love Will Find a Way $1
Eagle Rider $1
We Give You Praise $1
How Sweet the Name $1
Wonder $1
Break the Silence $1.50
Stare the Monster Down $1.50
All God's Children $2
My Soul Sings $1.50
TOTAL: $16.50

Band Members:
Martin Smith: Lead vocals, rhythm guitar
Stuart Garrard (Stu G): Lead guitar, backing vocals
Tim Jupp: Piano, keyboards
Jon Thatcher: Bass
Stuart Smith: Drums (left April 2008)
Paul Evans: Drums (joined May 2008)

Websites:
http://www.delirious.org.uk
http://www.myspace.com/delirious

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: At Work