Secret of the Easy Yoke

David Bazan writes theology the way a doctor describes a diagnosis — precisely, without sentiment, with an undertone of genuine concern for what the information means. "Secret of the Easy Yoke" takes its title from the Gospel of Matthew, where Jesus promises that his burden is light, and the song turns that promise over slowly, examining where it catches. The music is dry indie rock, the kind that Seattle and its surrounds produced in the late nineties: guitar with a clean, slightly bright tone, a rhythm section that marks time without drawing attention to itself, no production ornament that might distract from the words. Bazan's voice is baritone, slightly nasal, delivered with the careful enunciation of someone choosing each word on purpose. He does not resolve the tension the song sets up. Faith is presented as something wanted but not quite arrived at, earnestly sought and genuinely questioned, and the song refuses to tip in either direction — toward comfort or toward dismissal. This is what makes Pedro the Lion's early work so distinctive: it takes Christian belief seriously enough to be honest about its difficulty, which is rarer than either devotional sincerity or reflexive skepticism. You listen to this driving alone, or late at night when the thing you believe — whatever it is — doesn't feel as solid as it did in the morning.