In This House, We Will Praise
Sounds From Above - Alice Otieno
My 2025 has been shaped by a lot of things. New experiences that came with travel, a three day rendezvous with the Holy Spirit, Clarice Lispector novels, and Alice Otieno’s Spotify playlists.
I came across Alice right here on Substack. She was writing for Common Discourse, and I appreciated the themes and conversations that took place. As God would have it, she emailed me to say hi, and we hopped on a call shortly after. We hit it off right away. I loved her ability to put words together, her fresh perspectives blending faith with creativity, and how she absorbs what life teaches her and pours out what she can in return to it.
More specifically, I have been shaped by her excellent taste in music. I discovered her Spotify account after one of our conversations, and I started listening to her playlists right when the year began. What started as curiosity quickly grew into obsession. There is never not one of her playlists playing in the background at any given moment.
Women of the Wind when I’m getting dressed to go out, PSALM23 right when I wake up, le spirale when I want to romanticize reading, and Sunday Service on a long drive with my husband.”This is Alice, isn’t it?” he’ll ask when there’s an obscure but gorgeous melody playing on the speaker. He knows my music taste doesn’t go that far. The answer is always yes.
When God gave me the idea to expand what this Substack could be, she was one of the first people to come to mind. A monthly playlist curated by her seemed like the perfect addition to this publication, and I am so honored she said yes. And with that, I present to you our new joint segment: Sounds From Above.
In This House, We Will Praise
Sounds From Above - Alice Otieno
“Quiet, in this instance, is something different altogether: it is presence, fullness, it is motion; it is ritual, it is frenzy, it is ecstasy.”
— Solace, Caleb Azumah Nelson
This meme circulates often across my various feeds. When I initially stumbled across it, I didn’t realise that it was actually inspired by lyrics from the song God is a DJ by the British band, Faithless, and later track by P!nk.
Viewed from a faith context, I perceived it as a funny way to describe the absurdity of life and a times, God’s way of orchestrating things. On the dance floor we let loose, we become someone else, something else, carried by the music. It’s a dialogue between audience and the the DJ, a process of mutual trust and understanding.
“Forget about house music, forget about techno, forget about club music – it’s about the spiritual connection I’m making.”
— Last Night a DJ Saved My Soul
I’ve lately been reflecting on the similarities between House music and Praise Breaks. When listening to songs such as Praise Break by Norman Hutchins, it would take me back to instances where I would be at a live DJ set, rave or gig and feel moved by the music, and how parallels to instances where worship music inspires us to take actions in faith, deepen our trust or expand our capacity to live freer lives.
Music and dancing by extension are often a form of prayer for me. When my words are insufficient, I turn to song and movement instead.
At least once a year, I return to this essay by Elohosa Osunde, who pens this idea more succinctly. She writes about the song Tomorrow Silver by South African musician Msaki, noting how the lyrics take shape as a form of prayer for her too, transforming into verses and psalms in their own right. When listening to this song, I am always moved by the lyric “you’ve been my friend on days that I prayed and nothing has changed for me”.
Another song by the same artist, that not only inspired this month’s playlist but feels like a prayer to me is Ubomi Abumanga. It’s one of those songs where though it isn’t sung in my mother tongue, the spirit behind it is understood. One day I was listening to it and was moved to tears and had to look up the lyrics. The main theme is a friend speaking to another, reminding them of their God given gifts and that the light will come despite the momentary period of darkness they are in.
This Month’s Playlist:
Reading:
I have been thinking about the relationship between silence, noise and how an environment informs our relationship with music or sound, specifically, the politics behind sound and how it exists beyond entertainment or mindful escapism. As this month’s playlist and theme inspire bold expression and a liberation, it has been an interesting exercise to witness silence as a contrast. Silence can often bring about moments of surrender, respite and contemplation. Alternatively, silence can also be mis-used as a weapon, to erase and suppress the essence of a people or place.
so you wanna get into... kate carr, by Tusk Is Better Than Rumours** - “I learned about the role of Brixton as a centre of Black British culture, resistance and musical production, as well as a location once known for its anarchist squats, and left wing activism. I learned about how, as Brixton has become increasingly gentrified, some of the sounds associated with Brixton's history and communities were being lost from this area. I began to hear some of the new silences of Brixton.”
Last Night A DJ Saved My Life by Aaron Gonsher
Watching:
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How I wish I was currently dancing at a NYC block party!
Black to Techno, by Jenn Nkiru documents the origins and history of techno music, marking it’s trace from Detroit to Berlin.
Sounds From Above is a monthly segment by artist and researcher, Alice Otieno. The series explores how God speaks to us through music, and more broadly, sound. It aims to present the expansiveness of the medium; as something that can be heard, felt, experienced and embodied, drawing us into a deeper relationship with God, ourselves, and world around us in unexpected ways.
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