How Vampire Weekend’s Modern Vampires of the City Helped Me Navigate My Faith.

If I’m born again I know that the world will disagree
Want a little grace but who’s going to say a little grace for me?

Vampire Weekend’s Modern Vampires of the City (2013) was honestly one of the album that defined my life — a soundtrack of my high school life, if not my entire life so far. Even with Father of the Bride coming out last year (after! Six! Fucking! Years!), I still think about, and listen to this album from time to time.

Compared with their older albums, Vampire Weekend (2008) and Contra (2010), we can really see how much Vampire Weekend has developed, both musically and as a band. Vampire Weekend symbolizes youth, the sounds of Columbia dorm room — preppy and catchy with obvious African influence. The lyrics are fun and pretentious, kinda like college. With more sentimental songs like I Think Ur A Contra, Contra symbolizes adolesence, the confusion of growing up — how hard it is for young adults to get their shit together. Here, they toned down their African influence and explored deeper, more melancholic tunes. Modern Vampires, on the other hand, is musically diverse. We still have bright fun sounds like Finger Back and Worship You, reminiscence of their older works, yet here we’re presented with something as grim as Hudson — something we’ve never seen before.

One particular feature of Modern Vampires not present on Vampire Weekend’s older albums (and the reason why Modern Vampires remains my favorite) is heavy religious imagery troughout the album. I grew up in a religious Muslim household, and although I’m not religious by any means, being “forced” to practice all my life in a Muslim majority country made Islam play a huge role on my life because it influences the way I think and the way I act (I’ve written about this before), it really is hard to find a balance between faith and modernity — especially with Islam, a religion which teachings often dubbed as “backwards”. As a confused high school student who had recently discovered Beauvoir, Nietzsche, and Marx without the luxury of academia (yet) to fully understand their texts (and ideas that counter their ideas), it was really hard for me to make peace with my own religion. How I looked like back then expressed my confusion — I wore the hijab to school but I took it off during the weekends revealing a short-but-not-yet-pixie-hair underneath.

Modern Vampires understood, as if they listened to my confusion and put it into words. Written by the band’s vocalist, Ezra Koenig, a Jewish New Yorker, it’s as if he understood me, a Muslim Jakarta girl. In Unbelievers, Koenig wrote:

I’m not excited
But should I be
Is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me?

I know I love you
And you love the sea
What holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me?

The song tells the story of an atheist man — an unbeliever — whose girlfriend is religious, faithful — a believer. Combined with catchy guitar tunes, this song tries to a) navigate the relationship between the unbeliever and the believer and b) pose the question am I, an unbeliever, still worthy of salvation? — an idea that I too — and I’m sure a lot of people do — often ponder about.

In Hannah Hunt, Koenig wrote:

A man of faith said hidden eyes
Could see what I was thinking
I just smiled and told him
That was only true of Hannah
And we glided on through Waverly and Lincoln

In this particular verse, it’s as if the writer denies the existence of a higher power. Instead of having faith in a deity, the writer chooses to have faith in Hannah (which reminds me of John Lennon’s 1970 track, God.)

In Everlasting Arms, Koenig explored yet another idea; fear — showing that although in previous songs he seems sure of God’s (in)existence, deep inside he’s actually never really sure of it. He wrote:

I took your counsel and came to ruin
Leave me to myself, leave me to myself
I took your counsel and came to ruin
Leave me to myself, lead me to myself

This repetitive verse shows that at one point in his life, he did have faith in God, but it wasn’t really his thing and decided to stop believing. He’s unsure of God’s existence, but he wishes that He doesn’t exist, as he wishes to beleft alone. In the chorus, Koenig wrote:

Hold me in your everlasting arms
Looked up full of fear, trapped beneath a chandelier
That’s going down

Contrary to the previous verses, he’s visibly scared (possibly of the eternam damnation) this time and wishes for an everlasting arms — the Everlasting Arms. Furthermore, Koenig wrote:

If you’d been made to serve a master
You’d be frightened by the open hand, frightened by the hand
Could I have been made to serve a master?
Well, I’m never gonna understand, never understand

Here, Koenig challenges the idea of destiny. We can see that he’s is confused, questioning why must he live in constant prayer, religious customs, and rituals. In this line, it’s as if he accepts the fact that he is indeed made to serve the master, but still wishes for free will.

Another distinct feature of this album is constant references to Judaism and the Israel-Palestine conflict, especially on the later half of the album. In Finger Back, he wrote:

Sing “Next Year in Jerusalem”
You know, the one at 103rd and Broadway?
’Cause this Orthodox girl fell in love
With the guy at the falafel shop
And why not? Should she have averted her eyes
And just stared at the laminated poster of the Dome of the Rock?

And then blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood
And then blood, blood, blood
And then blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood
And then blood, blood, blood, blood, blood

The Israel-Palestine conflict is probably the most divisive conflict in contemporary world after the fall of Soviet Union. Koenig’s reference is crude and sweet. At first, he uses love — a universal language— the idea of an Orthodox Jewish girl falling in love with a Muslim (possibly Palestinian) guy at the falafel shop, then continues with blood blood blood blood blood, a reminder of how brutal the conflict is.

In Worhship You, Koenig wrote a direct message to God:

We worshipped You, Your red right hand
Won’t we see You once again?
In foreign soil, in foreign land
Who will guide us through the end?

Using the phrase “red right hand”, Koenig portrays God as a ruthless king directly responsible for the violent deaths of millions on earth, and later explores the idea of Israel— the foreign, chosen land. Although he recgonizes God as a ruthless king — instead of the benevolent being He’s so often portrayed as, he still needs His assistance, not only in discovering the chosen land, but also in life.

Modern Vampires isn’t a stereotypically religious album (you know, those about worship and praise), but it is an album about religion. The lyrics presented an everchanging view about religion, his resentment, fear, anger, and, above all, love towards God, enforcing the idea that faith is not fixed. It fluctuates. It helped me to navigate what religion means.

At this point in my life, I no longer see religion and the modern world in black and white. To live as a non-conservative and not-always-practicing Muslim — to keep up with iman is tough. It is a struggle, but it’s not impossible. In the end, this album helped me to navigate what religion means to me back then to help me view it as it is today. For which I am thankful.