There is nothing like sinking your teeth into an excellent musician’s back catalogue. The journey of discovery usually begins by falling in love with a single album, spending hours unpacking its lyrics, examining its riffs, and enjoying its virtuosity. Just that one album can be a priceless gift gift, but when you discover that they’ve released other music just as worthy, that journey is like a slow burn of Christmas mornings. An artist with such riches is one I would happily explore forever, an artist that would satisfy for a lifetime, even if the rest of your music library is removed. A desert island artist. I love lists so here are my top five such desert island artists.

Paul Simon

One day some colleagues and I got into a major disagreement over who had produced better music, Simon and Garfunkel or Paul Simon. I proposed, and was ridiculed for my opinion, that Paul Simon’s music has a depth that surpasses the youthful melodies of the famous folk duo. You could give me just his two world albums, Graceland and Rhythm of the Saints and I would have enough complexity of beat and elegance of lyrics to keep me happy for months. But even his recent 2011 album has tracks like ‘Rewrite’, which is my definition of a perfect song. Unlike his earlier efforts, Paul Simon’s best music is a certain intrinsic selflessness, which is why Sammy Rhodes described Graceland as “so full of joy it practically dares you to be sad.”

Start with: Graceland

Sufjan Stevens

One of the great things about Sufjan Stevens is the diversity of his music. Watching it progress over his career is quite a journey. His early lo-fi folk, with its almost medieval flare thanks to the horns and flutes, gave way to an orchestration, complete with choral rounds and chants. Then there is his electronic phases filled delightful, if sometimes obnoxious beats and patches. His recent offerings combine gentle electronic with a light folk that has me eager to see where it will evolve next. But it’s his lyrics that haunt and comfort me. A friend of mine describes one song, Impossible Soul, as the best song to listen to when your depressed. It meets you in your sorrow, cheers you up, and then reminds us that our depression is probably rooted in our own selfishness. And I supposes such is true of his entire discography.

Start with: Come on Feel the Illinois, or Songs of Christmas (depending on the time of year).

Josh Garrels

Josh Garrels is a songcrafter. He’s honed his arsenal of tools and what are a rare mixture they are. He is just as comfortable using organic samples and beats as he is with sparse guitar picking. His voice is equally at home dispatching hip-hop flow as he is soul-stabbing falsetto. This package is wrapped into a lush soundscape that tells stories of heartache and home, the dangers of the wilderness and the contentment of redemption. His are songs I can nestle into and live my life amongst.

Start with: Love & War & The Sea In Between

Humble Beast

True, technically a hip-hop label. But the group’s four artists, united by the label’s lush, acoustic driven production, sit on equal footing in their talents and upon my musical shelf of honour. I turn to Beautiful Eulogy when my soul is dry and my heart is broken, and they restore me in the hope of the Gospel, my cheeks often getting wet in the process. Propaganda is a modern day prophet, preaching into his culture while restoring hope in his community of Los Angeles. Jackie Hill Perry intricate wordplay produces a cracked mosaic drawing us to seek joy in the Lord. And JGivens’s depth of lyrics and intricate soundscapes tell a multi-layered story as complex and as simple as life itself. To say that their music has impacted my life is an understatement.

Start with: Fly Exam or Crimson Cord

Open Slot

I know, I know, this is cheating, but honestly, choosing this artist would depend on what I’m most feeling on the day of my island banishment. Would it be U2 (with lots to explore, not to mention two of the best albums ever recorded, The Joshua Tree and Achtung, Baby)? Might I choose Elbow, whose maundering chords and rifts I can sink my teeth into? Or would it be a perineal favourite, Jars of Clay? Right now I would probably opt for Bob Dylan. His talents remain undiminished, his back catalogue offers so much to explore, his broken voice satisfies in ways normal polish just can’t, and his musicianship and storytelling can fill a lifetime

Start with: U2's The Joshua Tree, Elbow's The Takeoff and Landing of Everything, Jars of Clay's The Long Fall Back to Earth, and Bob Dylan's Oh Mercy.

So there they are, my five(ish) desert island artists. Who would you choose? Please share - maybe your suggestions will result in the rest in a new journey of discovery for the rest of us.

A friend recently introduced me to the English band Elbow, who took the name after hearing a character on a BBC show describe it as the loveliest word in the English language. Imagine if Coldplay didn’t care about radio play, spent their evenings with Irish whiskey and watching black and white films, and dealt with breakups by drinking that whiskey alone in basements and writing poetry. Elbow’s music is dark, profane, poetic, and full of humanity.

One song off their recent album, The Takeoff and Landing of Everything has me particularly thrilled. Not only is it some of the finest songwriting you will hear this year but it also perfectly illustrates the role of the city in the Christian worldview. Click play on the video and I’ll walk you through what I mean.

The song opens with quiet chords, sneaking in like the first light of morning. The lead singer, Guy Garvey, begins by describing the power of ideas and “how there is a big one round the corner.” Right on cue the drums enter like a beam of sunrise. The city of New York is waking up. It’s towers are described in a rapidly rising crescendo, “each pillar post, and painted line, every batter ladder building in this town” singing “a life of proud endeavour and the best that man can be.” Garvey has just described the ambition that is the heart of New York and every urban Rome.

And his crescendo is not over. He continues, without pausing, describing the “million voices” of people that are “planning, drilling, welding, carrying their fingers to the nub.” “Why?” he asks as the musical line meets its ernest and earned peak. “Because they can, they did and do…” Such is the reason for our endeavouring, our modern babel of enterprise, our kingdom building.

But the line doesn’t end here, for if there was just ambition, we humans would be smothered under our own terror. The city holds something greater than achievement and the climax of this line ends by describing it. “Why? Because they can, they did and do so you and I could live together.” The heart and purpose of the city are right here, in home, in family, in love.

The lyrics in the song break as the bass and the piano wind themselves into a melody represent ing the towers “reaching down into the ground” and “stretching up into the sky.” The song than twists the three ideas it has introduced together as the voices and melodies overlap. “Everybody owns the great ideas”, “the desire of the patchwork symphony”, and the striving that is “for love, having come for me”.

The song opened with the morning light and pinnacled in afternoon ambition. It than winds to a restful end, revealing its foundation. “The way [the day] ends depends on if your home. For every soul a pillow and a window please.” In just over five minutes it has perfectly captures what we love and hate about the city but also why we must cherish our urban centres. Here is humanity. Here is the potential for home. And here is grace, family, and people, where the gospel takes root and proves its worth.

I can think of several examples. My first solo trip to London, were the city large, foreign, and exhausting. Yet I stayed with a group of Christian urban monks and because of their fellowship never felt alone. Or just last night, visiting a young couple who recently moved downtown. A car accident on Sunday left them shaken and debilitated so I went to keep them company and was joined by the her younger siblings. These kids live on an acreage and were visibly awed by the dark hot streets towering with cranes, the apartment, ancient and decrepit, and the stories of crime and homelessness surrounding the building. And yet in that home was warmth and sacrifice, family and protection. The heartbeat of life itself.