with some answers to a question I asked here recently:
I listen to a lot of what you could call “Christ-haunted” music. Your Mountain Goats, your Weakerthans. Not music made by believers necessarily (although sometimes, unexpectedly, yes), but music made by people who can’t quite escape the stories of Scripture and the language of Christian faith. Cain, resurrection, David, sorrow for sin; a desperate rosary or a hospital vespers. You could add to this list stuff I don’t personally quite grok, but which is clearly in the same ramshackle choir loft: Sufjan Stevens, the Hold Steady. You could add Youngest Son, whom I’ve reviewed for TAC.
But I realized recently that I couldn’t think of any women who work that weedy hallowed ground. Women who pray with their voices cracking, who kneel when they’re angry and offer praise when they’re in pain—whose personal relationship with Jesus is fraught. Where were they?