We who are committed to theology can only theologize in and from our particular and even peculiar situations. Here’s a situation: a dance club or party. Here’s a song and video: “Freedom.” And here’s the artist: George Michael. Over the past several years at clubs or parties, I have noticed the role this song and video plays in giving at least momentary joy to many kinds of people (including me), and not only at the gay clubs one might readily associate with this music (but certainly there as well). Since its appearance two decades ago, this song has been in the background soundtrack for our culture, but I have been noticing how easily this song takes charge in party atmospheres once its synthesized high-hat opening greets you so politely. (Note: the video is not for kids.)

Here is a live version that plays up the gospel atmosphere of the tune:

I will repeat for the umpteenth time that one need not endorse everything possibly associated with this (or any) music to be curious about its power for holding interpersonal moments, whether club floors or basement bars. Some interpreters hear this song as Michael’s declaration of independence from the corporate music industry represented by MTV. Others hear a meditation on relationships. But what seems clear to me is that in the lived party moment, almost all are focused on that rousing gospelly declaration of “freedom” in the chorus. Does it hurt that it can also be heard as a gospel of resistance to codependence? “All we have to see is that I don’t belong to you and you don’t belong to me.” All who hear the message of freedom and live it beyond Michael’s music, with or without the assistance of theologians, are going to already transcend the limits of his particular struggles and the way the video positions the song, however many significant identifications there may be between fans and these fantasized elements of life and art. And would I be so wrong to praise the happy and happening bassline as a key reason this song succeeds musically? It leads the jive and groove all the way through, including laying down the staccato landing lights during the bridge (“I think there’s something you should know…”) most deliciously.

Like a good deal of popular music, “Freedom” is situated between sacred and profane: “It looks like the road to heaven, it feels like the road to hell.”

Tom Beaudoin

Hastings-on-Hudson, New York, United States

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