HELM’S DEEP: The Soul of a Song for the Battle We’re In

What is it about the Battle of Helm’s Deep that so captures the imagination? A small company facing an overwhelming army. Darkness gathering. Hope fading. Every reasonable calculation pointing toward defeat.

And yet, they stand.

Not because victory is assured. But because some things are worth defending, even at the cost of everything.

That’s the heart of a song I’ve carried in my imagination, now brought to life through AI-assisted music production. And while I understand and respect concerns surrounding AI in art, I keep returning to something the late, great Neil Peart of Rush expressed in The Spirit of Radio:

“It’s really just a question of your honesty.”

Consider the genius of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings films. Without groundbreaking computer-generated imagery, how would those extraordinary battles have come alive? Technology didn’t create Tolkien’s imagination or Jackson’s vision. It enabled something once unimaginable to be experienced.

Which brings me to my story.

I grew up with extraordinary regard for the musicianship of Rush, The Who, Styx, Foreigner, Journey, Triumph. Their music was the soundtrack of my adolescence—not merely while tossing Frisbees, playing hacky sack, or shooting hoops in the driveway, but accompanying me on long runs.

And somewhere along those miles, in my imagination, I was creating entire songs and cinematic sequences. Vocals. Guitars. Arrangements. Soaring crescendos. Fully produced, radio-ready masterpieces!

Of course, nobody else could hear them.

Until now.

Through AI-assisted production, I’ve been able to give those imaginings a voice through Shatterglass Scallywags and Grant Collective. My stories, writing, vocal phrasing, musical direction, chord progressions and instrumentation, shaped through an iterative process into songs I once could only hear in my head.

But here’s the much more important point.

The music isn’t ultimately about the music. It’s about what the music can carry.

Plato understood something profound about the capacity of rhythm and harmony to reach the deepest places of the human soul.

And what do I most want to reach those places with?

The things that have animated my life: Christ. His Kingdom. The dignity of every person. The terrible cost of pride. The beauty of forgiveness. The battle between darkness and light. The extraordinary, eternal significance of seemingly ordinary human choices.

A rock soundtrack accompanying my novel about a Columbus rock star (Primal Fire). An album honoring Chesterton, connecting popular fairytale “lessons from the crib” with Christian faith (Forged by Fairytales). Two estranged siblings reunited at their mother’s funeral after years lost to pride (What’s It Gonna Take). A classic-rock album exploring the defining stories of our American republic (Heal Our Land). A heartfelt ballad accompanying my children’s book about the fleeting adventure of family life (Ride of a Lifetime). Here’s the page with all the music.

These are not simply songs I want people to hear. They’re stories I hope might move someone to live differently.

In the deepest sense, I believe we’re all worshipping something. Worship is worth-ship: giving worth, declaring through our lives what ultimately matters.

And for me, these songs are expressions lifted up. Of gratitude. Conviction. Longing. Love. A desire that someone, somewhere, might be blessed, awakened, encouraged, or drawn closer to Christ.

Does the process matter? Absolutely.

Our six children grew up surrounded by music, with my guitar and piano always nearby. Each explored instruments in their own season; one has gone on to become a successful recording artist with Provident/Sony.

I’ve witnessed the beauty of real musicianship, the discipline and sacrifice it demands. Nothing quite compares to a gifted musician performing live, especially unplugged. That profoundly human encounter deserves a premier place.

And AI-assisted composition is not the same achievement. Let’s be honest about that.

But neither should we dismiss the human imagination, intention, or expression simply because technology made its realization possible.

The instrument matters. But so does the soul reaching through it.

Which brings me back to Helm’s Deep.

Because what I most wanted to capture wasn’t merely the thunder of battle, the pounding drums, or the triumphant horns of dawn.

It was the why beneath it all.

The moment when darkness seems insurmountable. When courage isn’t the absence of fear, but fidelity in spite of it. When standing for what is true and good and beautiful seems almost foolish.

And yet, we stand.

Isn’t that something of our own spiritual landscape? The battles within ourselves, our families, our culture. The temptation to surrender, to compromise, to believe that darkness has already won.

But as Christians, we know the dawn is not wishful thinking. The victory belongs to Christ. Our calling is to remain faithful.

That’s what I wanted this music to communicate. Not merely an epic fantasy battle, but something of the battle we’re all living—and the hope by which we stand.

And thanks to a technology that has given voice to an imagination I carried for decades, I can finally share it.