Zeitgeist

"For God and country I'll fight/For God and country I'll die/For God and country my soul is so alive/My soul is so alive/Lay down your arms to me/Lay down your arms for God and country"—from "For God and Country"

"And God is empty, just like me."

So declared Billy Corgan in his song "Zero" back in the mid '90s at the peak of his career fronting Chicago band Smashing Pumpkins. At the time, the mantra was a fitting synopsis of Corgan's outlook on faith and himself—a theophobic whine that, coupled with the singer's trademark nasal tone, gave the group one of the most distinctive voices in alternative rock. Yet despite their pop glory, dysfunctions plagued the band. Drug use, infighting, and Corgan's micromanagement of anything Pumpkins-related ultimately fractured the foursome, leading to its inevitable disbandment in 2000.

Not long after the breakup, something happened to Corgan. His tune began to change almost overnight. If the album with his short-lived super-group Zwan was any indication, he was no longer writing angst-ridden anthems and faithless manifestos, but rather the opposite. Mary Star of the Sea was brighter and more optimistic than anything else Corgan had ever done. All of a sudden, he was now singing about love, sunshine, and surprisingly, even Jesus.

Corgan didn't exactly have a road to Damascus experience—though raised a Christian, he doesn't necessarily consider himself one today. But he did at least become more acquainted with Christ. "I didn't find Jesus," he told Paste in a 2005 interview. "He's been there the whole time."

This awareness permeated TheFutureEmbrace, Corgan's solo outing after Zwan's premature demise. Without skipping a beat, the beleaguered Corgan pressed on without a backing band, paying homage to the sounds of the '80s while continuing to expose his newfound hopefulness. Though the album bombed commercially, there was no question Corgan was at a different place personally.

The ever-resourceful alt-rock pioneer also had a contingency plan on the very day TheFutureEmbrace released: he took out full-page ads in two of his hometown's biggest papers to announce he wanted his band back. A misnomer, for sure, since he was the real reason the Pumpkins disbanded. But that brings us to Zeitgeist, the much touted "return" of Corgan's original band, even though drummer Jimmy Chamberlain is the only other member to rejoin the fold.

Such flights of fancy help explain why Zeitgeist isn't all it could be. The title suggests a snapshot of the times—perhaps a socio-political commentary, judging from the album's cover art and song titles such as "United States" and "For God and Country." But the disc isn't nearly as momentous or historical. It's simply Corgan trying hard to make a Pumpkins comeback.

In doing so, the art suffers. Aesthetically, there are shades of the classic Pumpkins repertoire, but it's too contained, forced, and calculated to be exciting. Yes, Zeitgest is dark and moody, noisy and textured—very much the way we remember the Pumpkins. Yet at the same time, it's too aimless and self-serious. Try as it may, the album never quite reaches the grandeur and pageantry of the group's best moments.

This attempt at reclaiming the past spills over into the lyrical content as well. Corgan continues to reference faith and Christian imagery, but these mentions are buried under dense layers of sound and an underwhelming mix. "Doomsday Clock," for example, is a warning of the end-times, but it's never stirring enough to inspire spiritual reformation: "Apocalyptic means are lost among our dead … Apocalyptic screams mean nothing to the dead/I'm guessing I'm born free, silly me/I was meant to beg from my knees."

Interesting allusion, but it doesn't quite move the soul the same way as previous songs from Corgan's more optimistic post-Pumpkins period, like "Jesus, I" or "All Things Change." Even "For God and Country" (excerpted above) seems more a tongue-in-cheek swipe at the government than a hard-line stance on faith and patriotism. Not that we should expect Corgan to deliver right-wing invectives, but these anti-establishment tunes are too indulgent to incite a revolution—they lack populism to be embraced by today's middle-class rock.

Still, a number of tracks do stand out for their jubilant spirituality, even when they sag musically. "Starz" is one of them: "Born of love and cast in light/Don't you know we cannot die/We are stars, we are the stars above, stars of grace/Shining down what's left to face/You hurt so bad/This knowing, this fallacy/I want so much to follow as I lead/For love I keep, silence I weep/Dead suns rule dead air/But heaven is everywhere/Stars … Torn from God and flung towards night."

More illuminating is "Bring the Light," a call to shine in the world's dark spaces: "A son of God you know you must arrive/In the light, bring the light, let's bring the light … It's yours not mine/If you just want to survive/Go grab a glimpse of any star in heaven's high/I never felt so real and loved and alive/No shadows follow me unsung/In the light, bring the light to me."

It's a reassuring glimmer of Corgan's new perspective in life, even if it doesn't quite jibe with the album's iconoclastic façade. Could it be Corgan is interested in a different type of fight, one more in line with his new convictions? Album closer "Pomp and Circumstances" may provide some clues: "When I was born I lost/When I was freed I fought/Now that I'm loved I'm caught between the rest and this tragic mess/An invited guest/Torn, broken, and frayed/Oh don't we face/War, sunshine, and grace?"

Wherever Corgan is at with his faith these days, Zeitgeist represents a mature summation of his early steps in a faith walk. It suggests that Corgan has it in him to leave behind his own childhood dreams—yes, even the Smashing Pumpkins—and embrace the new man inside him.

Unless specified clearly, we are not implying whether this artist is or is not a Christian. The views expressed are simply the author's. For a more complete description of our Glimpses of God articles, click here