Bittersweet Symphony

2008-12-29T13:44:00.002-05:00

Song Assassins, 2008

The following are my "song assassins" of 2008. I don't claim that these are great songs.

Most of them are not even new.

What these do represent are tunes that just "killed" me. They made me stop what I was doing, and just listen. They made me go find the CD in my collection and play it, repeatedly, for a few days straight. They inspired me, spurred me on to (ideally) better art.

They made me believe.

As the 2008 went on, I jotted these down as they revealed themselves. Here they are:

February - Always in Love (Wilco)
February - For All the Right Reasons (Jayhawks, Rainy Day Music)
March - Stolen Car (Bruce Springsteen, The River)
April - Midnight Man (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Dig, Lazarus Dig!!!)
April - In the Morning (Norah Jones)
May - Dixie Chicken (Little Feat, Dixie Chicken)
June - La Cienega Just Smiled (Ryan Adams, Gold)
July - Mercy (Duffy, Rockferry)
August - The Sun Also Sets (Ryan Adams, Easy Tiger)
August - The Step and The Walk (The Duke Spirit)
October - Two Silver Trees (Calexico, Carried to Dust)

2008-12-11T12:44:00.004-05:00

A great paragraph...

From this book

"Later... I start to dream about all the people in the world who live bad lives -- all the drug dealers and arms manufacturers and corrupt politicians, and all the cynical bastards everywhere -- getting touched by GoodNews and changing... The dream scares me. Because I need these people -- they serve as my compass. Due south there are saints and nurses and teachers in inner-city schools; due north there are managing directors of tobacco companies and angry local newspaper columnists. Please don't take my due north away, because then I will be adrift, lost in a land where the things I have done and the things I haven't done really mean something."

2008-12-10T11:21:00.000-05:00

What's Happened to Wonder?

I can tell you...

Wonder has been mistaken for glam, for ever-increasing budgets and light shows.

The wonder of the smallness of life has been subsumed with the 50 inch plasmas, hyper-reality, and multi-tasking screen culture.

The wonder of peace and silence; the pregnant God-reality of a moment has been washed away by overly triumphant, ticketed celebrations and a parade of charades.

... I think that's what happened to wonder.

We killed it.

2008-12-04T17:10:00.001-05:00

Going Back to Babylon

100 miles from Babylon, i felt the tremble of the earth
my shoulders began to shudder, and my cough started to get worse

the earth had lost its center, i heard the voices in my head
but everything sounded different, and nothing made any sense

la la la la la la hey

we raised our bricks and mortar, built a superhighway to the sky
said, “to hell with the infidels”, turned our backs and waved goodbye

turned up the music on our stereos, feasted in the middle of the storm
thought we’d stay so happy and contented, i’m not so sure anymore

Take me back … goin back to babylon

hang all of the martyrs, hang all of the dead
hang the one’s who misunderstood and chose to sleep in instead

hang the poor and stinking, the sick and the blind
break me off a turkey leg, and pass me that bottle of wine …

2008-11-07T13:39:00.000-05:00

Adventures in incredulity, v1.0

A few months back, a leader in our faith community got up and made this cool announcement about how iTunes had lent its support to one of our CDs and we had made the charts there.

A few days later, he received an e-mail from someone who had attended the church that day, expressing their “disappointment” that he was endorsing a band that was not explicitly Christian.

Come again?

This is nothing new, believe me. I’ve heard rumors of it, but being on the direct end of it is something differently entirely. You want to scream, shake their shoulders, sit down with them, reason, but in the end all you can do is silently shake your head and keep on doing what you’re doing.

Frankly, it also hurt. I don’t quite know when faith became something you lived out and struggled with only on Sunday mornings, but it’s obviously shifted. I don’t know what this person expected to find when they listened to Maida Vale’s music: “Jesus is a friend of mine?” (either you know, or you don’t)

Somehow the expression of full-humanity, of longing and fulfillment, of love and rejection, of sin and redemption failed to connect with her. If we have to turn our backs on being fully human in order to be a Christian band, then perhaps we don’t want to be a Christian band.

Maybe we weren’t ever a “Christian band”.

But maybe if struggle, transcendence, fun, desire, and doubt can be part of faith, then, well, we’ll let you put two and two together.

2008-10-30T11:29:00.001-04:00

Fading Man (poem)

The city is desperate, fueled
By the filial dreams
Of a thousand youths.

Such audacity --

But what emerges,
Churns in the belly
Of the fading man

Forever

2008-10-23T12:45:00.001-04:00

Outside, autumn begins its cool whispers of peace and decay. Inside, Emmylou Harris rises gently above the quiet murmur of the shop. She echoes a sound from fifty years ago, splices of it mixed into the interludes of the music. The music is achy with longing; white soul for those who acknowledge neither concept.

The acoustic guitars thump and sing, fat and gray in the company of angelic harmonies and archetypal melodies. We all know this music. It is written in the celtic, anglo-saxon souls of Caucasians. We have strayed and betrayed ourselves, attempting to leverage ourselves into the gladiatorial arenas of hip-hop and "modern" music, but we need to face it.

We are mountain people. Even the most mixed breed of us is stuck with the pipes and the drums from the highlands, pounding wild and distant in our hearts. The grouse and heather cling to our thighs as we run, as we flail to flee our past.

Emmylou, and artists like her bring those pasts back to confront our empty, unanchored eyes. We have drifted, for we have forgotten who we are, and when you can’t remember who you are, it’s even more difficult to latch on to who you’d like to be. It recedes in the distance, fleeing your reaching, outstretched hand.

Emmylou touches the soul in our stomachs. She reminds of us the essentials of life, that we—like her songs—are uncategorized, brilliant as a flower, and luminous in our mortality. We cultivate beautiful deaths so that our stories can be told in their aching, seductive beauty.

She has soul. She has country. She has modern rock and roll. She has gospel. It is not “country” music, it is human music. She is a psalmist.

2008-10-17T14:48:00.002-04:00

Hey everybody (or maybe all 3 of you that might read this)...

In the interest of giving myself even more to do, and also of making things a bit more specific, I'm splitting this blog in two. This one, "Bittersweet Symphony", I'd like to dedicate to artistic matters, or art and faith.

I've started a new one, "Jerry and Ike's Pages" that will address more specifically my thoughts on church.

It will be at: http://jerryandike.blogspot.com/

Bookmark it if you'd like.... peace.

2008-10-08T11:19:00.003-04:00

The CD is Dead, Long Live the CD

I firmly agree, with most current commentators, that the CD is dead. Electronic delivery of music is now the overwhelming choice of consumers. Old news, I know.

However, there are two aspects of the current (and future) state of music retailing that intrigues me.

First, there’s the aspect of musical quality, which I blogged about a few weeks ago. There are simply things in the compression of sound that get lost. I firmly believe it. As Buddy Miller put it in No Depression, when you listen to a great CD, it can “make your heart hurt”; a similarly great mp3 often just lacks that certain something, the certain center, warm mid-range that Neil Young would love. T-Bone Burnett, producer of the amazing (and amazing sounding) Raising Sand, similarly grouses against the sound quality of iPod music. (BTW, I own a iPod and LOVE being able to take my music anywhere.) He and some colleagues are brainstorming new e-delivery formats that will enhance the quality of music, but there’s nothing in production yet.

Second, there’s the idea of the CD as “artifact”, as a piece of visual art, a piece of cultural “swag”. Frankly, I think there’s still life here. Granted it is not “mainstream market” life. It becomes “niched” life, where it will be purchased by audiophiles, artists and musicians who want to read liner notes, see who played on what, and engage the visual artistic direction of the CD’s author.

So I think we are at a very interesting time in the life of music commerce. I believe in the “economics of free”, that electronic music (content) will be increasingly freely accessible to people, who will pass the good stuff around, and delete the bad stuff. iTunes will continue to dominate the retail business, and CDs will continue to shrink as a percentage of music sales.

Simultaneously, however, I think CD sales will increasingly become appealing to the niche of people who want to hear the highest quality (note: I am not debating the quality of vinyl versus CDs here; they are different media with different tonal qualities and characteristics) they can get, AND can also possess the “artifact”.

In short, I think the most successful selling CDs in the near-term are going to be (a) really great sounding, and (b) really great looking. Iconic. Compelling. Something that makes that certain group of people true fans, maybe?) say, “I’ll buy the music on iTunes, but I want to OWN that THING, that piece of physical, visual art.”

The CD as music retail is dead; long live the CD as art.

2008-10-08T09:54:00.002-04:00

Read this last week...

"Jesus was hoping for the Kingdom.... instead, he got the church."

Woah!

2008-10-06T12:41:00.000-04:00

Suffering and Promises, Pt. 2

A couple days ago, I gave it to an atheist who was attempting to indict God because of the bible’s “inconsistent” stance on suffering.

Now, it’s the evangelicals’ turn.

First, disclosure: I consider myself, on some level, an evangelical… Let’s do it this way:

“I believe in God, the Father, Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified dead, and buried. On the third day He rose from the dead, and ascended into heaven, from there he shall come to judge the quick and dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of Saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.”

Hope that proves my membership in the club (I think I got all the capital letters in the right places); if there’s been a secret handshake that’s been introduced in the past few years, I might be in trouble.

Okay. Now what I mean by “evangelical”, unfortunately, would be more accurately understood as “evangelicalism”: the blind subscription to the set of beliefs handed down by spiritual leaders and digested without examination. I’m a bit closer to Luther, I think, and would say that we (the whole church, not just the folks who collect paychecks) need to do a much better job of holding sermons, bible studies, and—in particular—Christian paraphernalia to the light of scripture.

There’s a lot of error out there.

So my particular beef, today, is with “God’s Promises for You”, or maybe in a less sensitive light, “Little lies we tell ourselves to avoid the more troubling aspects of God’s character.”

Let me ask you: what does God promise you? Think about that. Now, think about the bible. Think about scripture, this Word of God that is useful for instruction and transformation. Think about what God “promised” His people through their history.

I would assert that the list of God’s promises for us is startling short:

1. God promises that He will take care of himself.
2. God promises that there is somehow a plan.

Don’t tell me that God wants my best. I see in scripture that he is willing to allow Joseph to be imprisoned, Moses to be left out of the promise land, Jeremiah to be mocked, Israel to be exiled, Christ to be crucified and most (if not all) of the Twelve to be executed. God doesn’t want my best, he wants me to worship him, and that worship could (should?) be dangerous.

Don’t tell me that there is “a lesson that God wants me to teach me,” (and that, by extension, I’ll be a lot happier once I learn said lesson). I’ll tell you that God says in scripture that His ways are not my ways (and who’d want to worship a deity that you could understand?) and that, in fact, he owes me no explanation whatsoever. Whatever I receive is grace—unmerited favor.

Don’t tell me that God is “for me.” Better to say that God is for himself. In fact, he must be for himself. For him to be unduly concerned about my well being would place too much responsibility on me. I’d rather have the One who dwells in unapproachable light just take care of things, rather than worry about my happiness.

What, I can only identify two promises? (It’s certainly not enough to sell a book with.) Yeah, but those two promises mean a lot, and will cover a multitude of situations. I don’t believe He is malevolent, mean, or remote, I just think that our attempts to belittle and over-simplify him are errant and misleading. Profitable? Sure.

2008-10-01T16:02:00.000-04:00

Suffering and Promises, Pt. 1

I few months ago I was in one of the big box bookstores, and I saw a book on display. It was about suffering, and what the bible had to say about it. Because I wasn’t in the Christian trinket store, I picked it up, assuming that it had some compelling scholarship and intellect behind it. I perused the inside cover to see who the author was, and the read how he used to be a Baptist minister, but as he “investigated God” more and more, he came to reject the whole enterprise, and declared himself, somehow an atheist who is now writing books about God and the bible. The intention of this book, explicitly stated, was to show how there is no cohesive statement on suffering in the bible. Therefore, God is either nonexistent, or remarkably cruel, capricious, and utterly indifferent about human suffering.

I don’t know whether it’s the thought that a minister has “switched sides” or that his publisher couched his scholarship in such a package, featured prominently in a popular bookstore. Either way, something has really bothered me and stuck with me about this. Here are my thoughts.

In a sense, he’s right: I would say that there is not a cohesive statement on suffering in the bible:

• God wipes out the whole human race (Genesis) but saves Noah and vows to never do it again

• God prohibits Moses, his chosen leader, from entering the promise land (Deuteronomy) for (let’s be honest) a simple and understandable mistake

• God allows the Accuser to strip Job of nearly everything (Job)

• God uses Babylon and Assyria to punish Israel, his chosen people (Isaiah, Jeremiah)

• God says that he knows the very number of hairs on our heads (Psalms), and that he cares for us much more than he cares for the birds of the air (Matthew)

I mean, he’s all over the place!

I’m know biblical scholar; I have no letters after my surname, but I read, and I think, and I pray. What I believe is that this author has missed the point, applying the same errant paradigm as many simple-minded, bad fundamentalists might.

The assume that God has to fit inside a box. A system.

The God that I read about in the bible is wild, personable, and infused with a powerful personality. Do we always agree with him? Probably not. Do we always like him? I daresay, sometimes it would be difficult to say yes.

Put my life into a thousand plus pages, and try to fit me into a consistent paradigm or system. Good luck. We are given freedom to act, to exist, to be angry, to be inconsistent. We are made in our Father’s image. He is not a marble statue. He is Yahweh, the living, jealous, angry, compassionate, God.

Is Yahweh capricious? I’d say no. But is He free?

Oh yes.

I’d say that this author lost his faith a long time before his intellect “caused” him to have a crisis. Most likely his doubt crept in because of a misunderstanding of what God actually promises us. More on that later, but I’d say that this man could have kept his faith if he could have just remembered a few simple things:

a. We live east of Eden; the world is broken, and we are trying to remake it, but the going is often slow and difficult
b. God does what he wants; he is bigger and more dominant than our theology
c. We are called to never stop hoping.

That’s what faith is about.

Sorry you lost your faith, buddy. But it was gone a long time ago if you – even with your PhD – expected him to confirm to your modern, linear, mirror-glass smooth concept of “biblical suffering” (as if there’s such a thing… isn’t all suffering just “suffering”? How is the bible separated from our own life?).

2008-10-01T13:54:00.001-04:00

Proof that a white person is about to say something racist:

When they say, "Now, I'm not racist, but..."

2008-09-30T13:31:00.000-04:00

Right, well, I’m in a funk, feeling trapped and isolated from my family, even myself.

I work in a job that pays me well, with influence, perqs, and a salary that would seemingly allow me to relax, get fat (or work out accordingly), and save some money (to maybe finally buy a house… at 40… hello?).

But I’m not sure I belong in my job. There are things I cannot reconcile in it. Big church talent with a small church soul. Whatever.

Sometimes I’m not sure why I’m considered good at my job. I play music, I speak words, and I suppose I “mean” them because they are said in the moment, without preconception or consideration. My actions are subjective, and very “real.”

But somehow I remain detached from them, and when I get off the stage and I decompress I feel like I have sold Jesus again.

What compounds this feeling is the gnawing suspicion that no one really cares. I’m lauded and rewarded because of these words and songs that come effortlessly out, and know one really cares what may be going on in my heart, because I feel like I often do my job without love.
I do it with maximum intelligence, maximum passion, and a lot of creativity. But my idea of a pasturing is that it should be absolutely and constantly governed by the love of the pastor.

If I was my boss, I’m afraid I’d fire me, or give me a leave of absence, or at least tell me to figure out why I feel called to be a pastor.

There are people with so many problems bigger than me. But I can’t seem to lift my head up right now and see the horizon. I don’t know no where to turn. Can I stay doing this job that I feel ambivalent about, in a town that sucks the life out of me? So many signs point to the fact that I may need to just stick it out… At least the price of beer hasn’t gone up yet. I can always drink myself to 60 or something. OH WAIT… pastors can’t do that. Hide myself away, let my soul get smaller and more remote.

I’m 40 now. Is this the way the dreams of a man die?

2008-09-09T08:30:00.001-04:00

Tick-Tock
August 2008

My mind is going
Buried under Tokyo lights
I feel it changing
Strobes flashing off in time

I want information
In my hands with no delay
Staccato thoughts
won’t stay, won’t stop
can’t seem to read a book these days

Feel your mind going tick-tock, tick-tock
Think you’re right, but you’re so wrong, so wrong
And though you try, you can’t understand it
And you never really planned it at all

Midvale does his counting
Motion measured, locked in time
Life’s mechanical choreography
Say when to eat, work, sleep, and rise

Hyper stimulation
Give me information
Transister moonlight
Subatomic spotligh
Electric perception
Divine misconception
Evolved cognition
Chrome and efficient

2008-08-29T13:57:00.001-04:00

This resonated with me...

"We got our recent custom of using individual glasses at Communion from Scotch (sic) Presbyterians and others who, in order to recover the meal at the Lord's Supper, gave a communicant a glass of wine and a small bun, seated the congregations at tables, and had a meal which looked and tasted like a meal. The custom of using individual pressed white tasteless wafers is an extension of medieval preoccupations with the bread as a holy, untouched, spotless portion of Christ's body. Over the years both the glasses and the wafers got smaller until the church seemed to have a make-belief meal without food...

I finally said, 'enough is enough; a couple of years ago when I read of a man in the West, who, believing that the Lord's Supper is time consuming and cumbersome because of the individual cups involved, has begun marketing a product for those in a hurry. He produces airtight packets which contain a crackerlike pellet in once compartment and two grams of grape juice in another compartment -- a disposable, self-contained, eat-on-the-run Lord's Supper -- sort of "This my body packaged for you." There you have it. The last hindrance to totally self-contained, self-centered religion is removed.... Now thanks to this unit packaging, we need never come into contact with or be touched by another human being again. Just when you thought modern life had depersonalized the gospel to the uttermost, we have another breakthrough--Communion without communion!" Bishop Bill Willimon, in Making a Meal of It: Rethinking the Theology of the Lord's Supper, by Ben Witherington

2008-08-26T09:57:00.002-04:00

Excerpted from Rock On, by Dan Kennedy .... Read it, and then substitute all the rock references with church, lead pastor, and worship lead/band references...

"Okay, look up at the huge screen at the end of the conference room. A ten-years-too-late Eddie Vedder look-alike stealing Jim Morrison's moves. And a bassist and guitarist who move in a way that seems to be saying, 'Yes, you learned lead singer moves in our local college's night class on how to be a rock star, but never forget that while you were doing that, we were studying how to posture ourselves properly as well, and we have jst as important a role as you. See we indicate that we're passionate about the guitar playing in the band.' There's daning, pouting, and these bored and angry mood swings that seem to say, ' We're angry. No, we're sexy. No, we're bored. Wait, we're angry again. How now we're longing! We are, in face, feeling everything you could posssibly want us to feel -- But no matter what we're feeling, we're rocking.'

I have a hunch that everyone here knows that this band's biggest problem is that they're not so much authentic as they're trying to indicate to you that they are authentic. We sit there smiling politely and watching."

Make you think a little? It did me.

2008-08-22T14:51:00.006-04:00

We deserved it.

First this...

This has been rocking my world for a few days now, and a lot of my friends as well. For some reason, it has struck a chord; it's almost worse than some kind of sexual scandal (for what reason, I'm not sure - still processing through that).

But I quickly landed on an interesting position:

we deserved it.

"We" meaning the church. Full disclosure: I'm a church worker (surprise); furthermore, I'm a church worker who stands on a stage each week, mostly with a guitar in hand, and tries to get people to remember the saving acts of Yahweh, their God. I've worked at one of the largest churches in the world, and at some of the smallest ones.

For years, church "worship culture" (does this sound like insane vocabulary to anyone out there besides me?) has been in ascendancy. Vineyard, Hosanna, and Maranatha laid the groundwork in the 1980s, and then Passion, SonicFlood, and Hillsong blew the doors off in the 1990s, making the worship of God pretty big business.

I'm not questioning motives. I've had the privilege of meeting some of the "names" in worship leading, and most of them are really great guys. But in the meantime, we -- the Christian, "Big C" church -- created a machine. This machine feeds good music to a lot of churches across the world, but unfortunately there are by-products to this that I believe are utterly unavoidable and mostly negative.

It's just this: should worship be based on the particular remembrance of a particular community of people of God's activity in their midst? Should worship be localized and intimate? Or should it be broadcast as a mirror image of pop culture, fed from the far off lands of Nashville, Australia, and Orange County?

Because if worship is going to be business, franchised out from the musical mega-centers, then the ramifications of a failure like this will spend tremors around the world. If worship music is going to be severed from relationship (unlike shepherding and discipleship, thank God), then we have to be prepared for failures.

What would I advocate in its place? Partly I'm not sure. I think in evangelical culture we've already "swallowed the pill". We assemble worship sets from iTunes "Top 10 Worship Songs" lists; from the latest release from SixSteps, most of the time without asking the deeper questions of what our community needs. Do we need this song? What about an ancient (maybe just pre 1970?) prayer?

Sometimes I fear that the "Traditional" (is that a bad word) churches may be on to something. The main line churches, who evangelicals have snickered at behind closed doors, worship in intimacy and "smallness" (some of them by necessity, as their congregations have shrunk away, stolen by the new mega church down the street). If an artist -- or even a pastor -- stumbles and falls in their community, the damage is truly no less severe, but reconciliation can occur in the way it was always intended to -- in relationship. Those who've been effected by the lack of integrity of a TV evangelist, or a youth pastor in Australia have no recourse, and God the Father takes the hit most of the time.

Years ago, we (the evangelicals) decided to dance with the devil, and decided to have our worship governed by celebrities. Most of the time, we've reaped benefits of great songwriting and new visions for musical worship. But we've also set up a system now that trades relationship for excellence, and so when one of us weak and frail individuals fall, we now shake whole systems of churches.

Can we return to smallness? Can we return to local artists struggling through "C+" songs, rather than purchasing the "A+" one from iTunes?

I really don't know. I think we like it here.

2008-08-13T11:23:00.000-04:00

It DOES make a difference…

And now a bulletin from the ultimately useless department.

A few months ago I decided to invest some money into some CDs that I really enjoy. I’d heard rumors from some respected musicians (Buddy Miller for one) that there is a significant difference in the listening experience between CD and mp3 (or mp4 or any other type of compression-focused music). I hadn’t really believed in it: to my mind, most of the folks making this claim seemed to be portly, middle-aged men with six-figure incomes who really enjoyed spending their weekends combing record stores for obscure vinyl.

But I decided to give it a try; I picked one of my favorite CDs (Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot) that I’d purchased through iTunes (note: not downloaded illegally), and brought it home.

Wow.

There were guitar parts that weren’t “there” in the iTunes version; a richness to the vocals that had completely flown over my head.

My resolution is to now keep on this course and replace my “iTunes only” CDs that I really enjoy with CD versions (not audiophile enough for vinyl… yet). For the musos out there: try it, you’ll be blown away.

2008-06-24T15:16:00.000-04:00

Familiar Pull

Familiar pull
Midnight needs
stronger as the hours get shorter
warnings unheeded

Implanted code
Genetic blueprints
To populate the land
(Or at least my hand)
A hundred thousand replicas of broken heart

Watch, watch
Watch me explode
With Iniquity

2008-06-16T10:53:00.003-04:00

In Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, the adventure is a given. We all know what we’re going to see when we go into the theatre. We are expecting a good ride, and whether or not the movie actually delivers on these expectations is up for debate. But I think there’s another interesting story that is going on underneath the surface that I think is instructive for us.

In the story, there is this young man, “Mutt”. A horrible name, really for any human. He’s given himself that name, because there was no one else to name him. He’s a typical tragic figure, doesn’t know who his father, and he behaves accordingly. He’s reckless, he’s a bit dangerous, even a little “lost.”

But the thing is, Mutt does have a father, even if he doesn’t recognize it. What’s more, Mutt is unknowingly emulating and imitating parts of his father’s personality. I don’t want to give away the story, but let’s just say that Mutt does have a father, and he’s more like his father than he realizes. Eventually, he meets his dad, and when he does, everything makes sense. His name, “Mutt” is now irrelevant, because his father now claims him, could even rename him if he was so inclined.

And so it is with us. Some of us here (this morning) know that we have a heavenly father, and we freely acknowledge him. If we claim Yahweh as our father (through Jesus), then we should obviously be continuing to orient our lives around—surprise—the things that Yahweh does. And what does he do? You can read it all through the bible. He seeks to be a blessing to the nations (through Abraham), he protects widows and orphans (Psalm 68), he seeks and saves that which was lost (Jesus in the gospels).

In fact, theologically speaking, if you really want to know what your Father likes to do, and therefore wants us to do, just read the gospels. Scripture tells us that Jesus was the very representation of God on earth. So when you want to know how your father spends his time, watch the way Jesus spends his time.

• Praying in “lonely places”
• Hanging out with his close friends
• Having challenging conversations
• Healing people
• Welcoming in people who are outside of the religious establishment

So at the very least, if you know who your father is, you should be about imitating him, like Mutt did. But what about those of us in a different category? Some of us here this morning are a lot more like Mutt, in that we really don’t know who our heavenly father is (even if we know who the names of our earthly fathers). We have no spiritual family, and would consider ourselves floating or alone in the world in that way. If that’s you this morning, I’d like to plant a thought in your head.

What if you are more like your heavenly, TRUE father than you’d care to admit or acknowledge? What if God—the creator of the universe—has left his genetic imprint on you, and that it is almost inevitable that, from time to time, the best of you comes out, and you are actually imitating God and Jesus, even while you don’t know that you are.

Woah.

As a Believer, I’d like to say a couple of things, (a) I think that God is responsible for everything good in this world. If it’s good, God made it; it’s just that simple. While I believe that we do live “east of Eden”, in a fallen world, I believe that every glimpse of something positive has as its ultimate source our Father in heaven. (b) Just because you may not believe this, doesn’t make it less true. Doesn’t mean that God doesn’t have the ability (or even the right) to work in and through your life, even when you don’t acknowledge him.

Give somebody who’s hungry some food? That’s God’s work in your life. Be there for a friend who’s in a tough place? God. A lot of time, he’s just waiting for you to acknowledge that. But whether you recognize it or not, he’s still going to do it.

So for those of you who would consider yourselves a “mutt” today, unaware of who your father is, have never learned from him, I’d like to ask you this morning, “What if you still carried around the genetic thumbprint of your Dad? What if you knew that there things that you did that were “just like him.” Furthermore, what if you knew that your dad was out there looking for you, and waiting to give you His name? Wouldn’t that be cool? There’s an image in scripture of God claiming his children, and it says that he has written, for all of us, a new name that only He knows.

So for those of you this morning who know who your dad is, keep doing the things your father does. Learn more about his nature. Imitate him. For those of you who are still searching that out, just be reminded that God is at work in your lives, whether you realize it or not. Oftentimes, it’s just a matter of learning where and how he’s at work. It’s mind-blowing to think about, but you are NOT put on the outside of the work of God just because you may not acknowledge his presence. Personally, if that were true, what would it say about the sovereignty of God? Read Isaiah and the prophets: over and over, God raises up “pagan” nations—Babylon, Persia—to accomplish his purposes. It’s not without precedent.

I think that’s so cool! God wants to work with us, through us, no matter where we are in life. We are the instruments here on earth. We are his hands and feet. A great first step this morning may be to just acknowledge for the first time that there is a God in heaven, and the Father of us all. You may need to do that through clenched teeth, or while you roll your eyes, but I’d challenge you this morning to just take a chance, and tell God that you want to know him more. That you’d like to learn just a little more about your Father. Maybe you’d even like to join his family officially; take his name on.

2008-05-13T08:58:00.001-04:00

Chicago Show video

For any of you who were unable to get to the Chicago debut of Maida Vale, a buddy of mine posted some of it ...

2008-05-08T16:49:00.001-04:00

“I hope you know,
white knights and heroes are wasted in middle America.”

So the phrase goes. “Great Lakes” was born out of watching a relationship die. Or maybe a couple. Midwestern images tumble and fly around like birds, but the essentials are: what does someone do when they are with someone who has (had?) the best “heroic” intentions in the world, but has no ability, focus, or even desire to carry them through? Years into a marriage, maybe we need more than the white knights and heroes. We need someone to take out the freakin trash and make dinner for a change; to show love in that subtle, non-Hollywood way. Someone who cares enough to argue about stuff and and fight to make a collective life better (“… imaginary fights and words not spoken…”).

This is actually the oldest song on American Sun; at least 10 months. It went through a couple different rewrites before we hit on the vibe that’s on the CD. There was some Death Cab in it at one point, some Police. We kept fiddling with it and fiddling with it until it came together, pretty much all at once. I still remember the Saturday rehearsal when it started to peak its head around the corner. The first time we hit the harmonies. One of those times when everyone in the band immediately knew that the song had “found itself.” That’s how creativity works at times, you just keep approaching songs from different angles: varying tempos, feels, radical new ideas, and then one day everything clicks into place, and there’s a part of you that isn’t really sure how you even got there (but you’re thankful that you did).

Tracking it was another adventure. It was one of the first songs we did electrics on, and then immediately started adding vintage keyboards on it in selective places. Later, we still weren’t really feeling it, and so Justin re-did a part that knit a lot of it together, and then we added the tasty (literally) percussion and—yes, you do hear them—hand claps (courtesy of the Case children, Eric and Nathan).

You can download an acoustic version of “Great Lakes” from the Maida Vale website. You can hear the full version on our CD, American Sun (on iTunes and Amazon.com)

2008-05-05T14:02:00.001-04:00

Before I go further, you can check most of the comings and goings of the band at www.maidavalemusic.com, but here are some of my thoughts...

Friday. Nashville.

Up early in the morning, take kids to school with regrettable goodbyes, load-up and take off driving.

Drive and drive and drive.

Sights seen?
• One of the more disturbing personal evangelism billboards (in Alabama, where else?)
• A gentleman’s club (who’d want to a club with all guys?) named, appropriately enough, “The Boobie Bungalow.”

Arrive in Nashville. We are 2 blocks from the Country Music Hall of Fame. Load in our copious amounts of guitars, with amused looks from sound guys and club owners. We are tired, and fighting fatigue after 3 nights of rehearsals, web redesign, listening parties and our “other obligations.”

Sound check, eat, play, talk with friends, avoid tornadoes.

Saturday: Chicago

Drive all day and get to Martyr’s right at sound check. Again a phenomenal room with a great engineer. Crowd shows up early and is engaged. We play a rockin, 12am set complete with punk rock pushing on stage and extended, uncomfortable silences. This my (our) tribe; people listening to good music and enjoying themselves.

We dispense to homes throughout the city; I end up playing guitar until 4:30 am with a good friend. Up early at 7:15am to start the long, long drive home.

Sunday: Trip Home

• Given enough time alone, grown men will surely revert to behaving like 16-year olds, including the following activities:
o Throwing food at each other from moving vehicles
o Using said vehicles as items of fun
o Off-color jokes (with much, much laughter)
o Much discussion about male genitalia (with much, much laughter).

Good trip. Great shows. Great friends. God is good.

2008-05-02T18:49:00.000-04:00

Bad day.

2008-04-27T19:45:00.001-04:00

I’ve had these dreams.

For a long time, I’ve had these dreams. Rock and roll. Music-making. Art. The Creative Life.

Things got in the way: lots of them. Got married (no regrets, but we married before we knew each other, and hence ourselves, and a lot of drama and tragedy and missteps ensued), had children, tried a “safe” career, got debt, got out of debt…

All of these couple with the fact that I was probably never healthy enough for it in the first place. As my loving sister (who will no doubt read this) said emphatically (though lovingly), “Maybe you’re just not healthy enough for success!”

On top of that, I’ve never been the most, um, driven person in my family. Lots of talent, no drive. That’s the rap on Eric. The only thing I ever had was this deep-rooted, concrete-stubborn streak to never. Let. Go. Of. The. Dream.

Well, after making music inside the wall of a church for about 10 years now, I’ve slowly become healthy (and driven) enough to venture—seriously—outside. Got a group of guys together who simultaneously push and protect me, both relationally and creatively, and we made a record…

And I started to dream.

I saw it all laid out before me: a business built, a ministry that trades in transcendance and art and music. Five guys who should have never been a band but somehow came together and even though they almost broke up once a week managed to stick it out and make some decent tunes.

I saw my dream.

And so we made a “plan,” and we started to follow it.

And now, things are starting to happen.

+ A friend of ours, who owns the place we record, has now decided to give—that’s right, G-I-V-E the studio to us because he respects what we could possibly do with the gear. Bam, into our lap. A studio worth tens of thousands of dollars. (No exaggeration).

+ In five days, we leave for a two-day trip to Nashville—where we will play a Friday night show in a good room, and then to Chicago where will play a Saturday night show in a great room. We are taking ads out on Facebook, we are pursuing media coverage.

I feel like I am getting the chance I’ve always wanted. For once in my life, everything is lining up, and I seem to able to say, “The ball is in my court.” I can show people what is in my heart, what I was “meant” for (no sermons from the Believers out there, please; I know what I was really meant for).

… And now I am nervous as hell.

What if I’m really not that good? What if I really am too old, too insecure. What if this is the only way that God could have me understand that this door in my life, this chapter, should’ve been opened/written a long time ago, and that I need to just be a family man, and raise my children and love my wife?

Ugh.

So I fight against the tendency to self-sabotage, the broken shard inside me (largely, I believe, inherited from my mother) to just see the worst thing that can happen, and then wait for it.

I fight against the tendency to just freak out, and tense up so much that it will be impossible for me to bring my strengths to the table this week (and beyond).

I fight against the tendency to overreact, to throw the baby out with the bath water, on the odd chance that we fail.

The ball is in my court.

This is what I’ve been waiting for?

2008-04-23T08:26:00.002-04:00

Interesting phenomenon going on here at our little faith community.

Like most churches, we are consumed with dollars: What's the budget doing? Why are people not giving? How can we get them to give them more? or in a more timely manner? or consistent with our budget?

Maybe that's not fair, but alas we are, indeed, behind budget to the tune of about $20k. Nobody's freaking out here (because we know there's an author in the community who regularly tithes a $10 - 20k royalty check in the spring - how messed up is it that we know that?), but we are preparing to start bringing to this the larger community's attention.

But in the meantime, a strange thing is going on...

We have a fund that exists outside of our general budget. We maintain it for people who fall on unexpected hard times. Very much birthed out of Acts 2 in the bible: all the believers sharing out of their wealth and blessings with those who had needs. If someone is in need in our community, they answer a few questions, and a few mature people make a determination whether or not the church can/should respond to those needs. For most months since I've been at this community, the fund has limped along at a couple of hundred dollars, which was enough to help someone with a car repair or something like that.

But lately, it's been growing. Mind you, it's not really publicized or pushed from the "platform". Some people know that it's there, and that's about it. Yet, week in and week out for about the past 6 weeks, as our budget has been falling further and further behind, it has grown to about $10 thousand dollars. TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS, freely given for needs.

I have two reactions to this. First, I am exceedingly proud of our community for taking initiative to take care of our own. Second, however, it forces uncomfortable questions into my mind. JESUS questions. GOSPEL questions. Like, "What does this say about people's attitude towards the church, and giving to its work?" I mean, if the measure of a a person values can be found in his or her pocketbook, it's awesome that they value helping those in need, but is it also a cautionary tale about our bloated programming budgets and hefty salaries?

What is God trying to tell us through this community's giving, and how can the church get behind it and/or join with it? To date, we've almost been talking about it like it's a problem: "Why won't they give this money to the general budget?' That's the most terrifying thing. We treat it like a problem.

I think God is trying to hint at something that he wants to do in His Kingdom.

2008-04-21T14:05:00.002-04:00

WHAT IF WE HAD A WAR?

What if we had a war, and we tore into each other for a season, only to find at the then we were more real and had a more concrete existence then we had before? What if battle had this unexpected outcome: that our masks were destroyed in the collateral damage, and we were left securely naked and approachable to each other?

What if we had a fight like cats and dogs and ripped and tore the false flesh from our bones, exposing the beautiful mess underneath, bleeding and honest?

For most, the alternative is best: a comfortable peace, an armistice born of cowardice and fear of seeing one another’s faults and failures. Most rest in this uneasy peace while our loved ones disappear and fade before out eyes, until the one we attempt to embrace is a vapor and a mist.

But what if we had a war?

Tomorrow?

Then we’d learn who we really are, our best moves and secret silences. Our sneak attacks and vicious faces, unable to conceal the raw anger and flesh that accompanies humanity.

What if we had a war?

Then at the end we’d fall exhausted to the floor and hold each other in the middle of this life alone.

Gods and generals would govern our drilling, marching us on into a field of friendly fire.

What if we had a war?

Then we’d enrich the pockets of our hearts.

2008-04-18T09:41:00.001-04:00

How to make a record for free.

We just made a record for free. No, really, for free. It doesn’t really sound like a “free” record. That’s the cool part.

We are lucky to have some really talented friends, one of which lives inside a studio. Or a studio lives in his house. Whatever. At any rate, we tracked drums there, and then we took our little computer box of files to our homes and started plugging away. Guitars at Josh’s house; vocals, more guitars, banjo and percussion at mine. After all that, we picked up our little computer box again and went back to the studio and it was mixed and then mastered.

It defies the odds: no sanitized rooms with exquisite wood paneling and bass traps (well, a couple in the studio). We just took mostly reasonable mics and stuck them in front of amps and cut loose.

You know how we did it?

We played. Just. Played.

I believe in technology; I believe in using it and abusing it for all it’s worth, bending circuits and stretching processing power (btw, it doesn’t really stretch – that’s a metaphor).

But I also believe – and this band believes – in the sheer ability and power of five people sitting down in a room together to play notes and listen to each other and capture the art that flies by. Tone comes from your fingers and your heart.

2008-04-17T15:23:00.001-04:00

It’s not cool in the entertainment/music business to admit insecurities.

We are expected to emerge as fully-blown myths, creative titans that go away and cook up intoxicating dishes of escapism that help people transcend their lives. We are supposed to be focused assholes, existing on the power of our unrestrained egos. Even those of us who choose to be vulnerable are sometimes simply wallowing in the power of their own self-pity.

But that is so far from the truth, and so I’m going to pray.

God, I really don’t know what I’m doing…

I’m almost 40 years old, and I’ve begun a band, an enterprise that most 26-year olds are already too old for.

Twelve months ago I was so sure: that somehow this was/is what I was made for. Parker Palmer says that “vocation” lives in the place where your deepest joy and the world’s deepest need meet. My world needs transcendence and pastoral music. My deepest joy is to play music and lead people.

But now, Lord, I am 10 months into this, and I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. We are about to drive 16 hours to play a 75 minute set, and though I thought I understood what the “point”—the strategy—was, but I am riddled with self-doubt.

What is this enterprise going to cost me, and can I pay it? Nights away from my family? Distraction from my “other job”. Hours of sleep (8? Puh-lease!).

So God, I am asking You to continue to lead. The good news is that Maida Vale is now bigger and more dynamic than anything I’ve ever been a part of, and it’s only the tip of the iceberg in terms of what we’re capable of. But I am spinning and drowning, overwhelmed by the multiple “wings” and arms of our business and ministry.

I need focus, and I also (selfishly) ask you to do a mighty, unexpected, undeserved work in our midst. A song in a movie, a critic who hears something, a casual mention on a music blog. Anything that would help us to “leapfrog” the levels of this business that I should’ve been navigating 13 years ago.

And protect my family. Guard my marriage and children, and keep my mind focused, alert, and safe.

I’m thankful for this group of guys; I’m thankful that we were able to make a record that represents so much of the artistic vision of the band; I’m thankful that we’ve gotten breaks already.

But I’m hopeful for more. I know it’s more than I deserve. I just wanted to be honest.

2008-04-16T08:57:00.001-04:00

Tonight I finished (mostly) two songs.

Revisited one that I’ve been working on for about a month and then hit on another one that’s been stewing for about a year. Funny thing, songs: some of them emerge like unexpected blooms over night; others buck and fight for days and months. Most of the time you give up when you can’t get the rhyme just right or (in my case) the story gets too loose and obtuse.

But you just don’t let go of them. Put ‘em down for a while, and turn aside and then come again from a different angle, a different perspective. Maybe it’s a groove, maybe it’s a new chord change. Just be patient and be aware of when to wrestle that sucker to the ground, and when to let him wander off like Sasquatch and wait for another chance to capture its secret, its essence.

How do you know when it’s done?

I know when I can sing it and I don’t get to a phrase or a line and pause and wonder, “Is that it?” I know when it just feels bulletproof, when the lyrics start to take a life of their own. They tell their own story, start to speak for themselves.

2008-04-13T11:43:00.004-04:00

Okay now we're REALLY done.

To studio on Friday night. 9:30pm start time to review tracks and prepare for mastering. 4 hours later, we are still reviewing, trapped inside the rabbit trails of guitars that are too loud and drums that have no crack and pop.

We argue.

We drink a beer (or two).

We argue some more.

We sweat.

Six hours later, we are crafting and nudging our little sonic babies until we sit in rapt silence and glimpse a shot of the glory, enfolded in cascading notes and rhythms.

This is what the kingdom is. This is why we do what we do.

Only a few more days, kids.

2008-04-13T11:42:00.002-04:00

Going back again
To the end of the beginning
Of the end

And ashes fortify
Up,
Underneath,
Beside
Twenty-five parking lots and unplanned twilights

Vacancies, vacancies
Truant children wait upon exit wounds
Pulling the chain up

Bitter green vines
Choking the illusion of new life
As a dollop of breath
Sinks into the deep brown underground.

2008-04-13T11:36:00.001-04:00

I've been stolen!

2008-04-11T13:33:00.000-04:00

A Poem...

Speak, the Voice

Did your
voice, calling from eternity
penetrate the pallid skin,
moving the tiny, dead bones
of the world of sound?

Did the
command, flying through reality
incise the shadow,
splitting the curtain
that divides?

“Come out,” you said – and still say,
coaxing us out of our freshly dug
graves,
that hold us gentle, faithful,
and insidious.

Will I wake?

2008-04-10T22:25:00.001-04:00

Why I may not be a Christian…

Who is this guy that I follow?

What does my faith mean?

What do my every day actions have to do with those pesky red letters?

He says, “Sell everything you own and give it to the poor.”

I really want a Wii

He says, “The first will be last.”

I like being first.

I was “saved” a few years back—multiple times, in fact—but I’ve always wondered, “saved for what?”

For another church’s capital campaign?

As an insurance policy?

I was saved into His Kingdom. But what do I do for that Kingdom, besides take up space?

2008-03-26T14:19:00.001-04:00

“When art comes to terms with both the wounds of the world and the promise of resurrection and learns how to express and respond to both at once, we will be on the way to a fresh vision, a fresh mission… Art at its best draws attention not only to the way things are but also to the way things will be, when the earth is filled with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the sea. That remains a surprising hope, and perhaps it will be the artists who are best at conveying both the hope and the surprise.” (N.T. Wright)

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

2008-03-26T10:39:00.000-04:00

Being in a band is hard.

Community, true community in any enterprise—be it creativity, spirituality, or a family—is so difficult. I make these SONGS in private, little 3 minute exercises of ego that hopefully communicate something to people. I labor over them, some longer than others, and try to get them to a place where they move me and yet also have some element of commonality, some mineral that speaks to the heart and ears of other people on this planet.

Then I do something that makes no sense.

I give them up. I relinquish them to four other guys, none of whom I’ve known over 18 months. I allow them to critique them, change them, break them down and rebuild them.

The process can be excruciating and frustrating.

Most, if not all, of the time we emerge with something better, and I again remember that there is strength in numbers. We are wired for this. Sometimes, the song dies a quiet death, not passing the muster of the first group of ears. It never gets its hearing in the wider world.

But still.

It’s an illusion, I know that we do much of anything by ourselves. As a Believer, I fight against this all the time. Often, my first instinct is that I can do anything—read the scripture, hear from God, figure out life—by myself. I know best. But sometimes this other voice whispers something insane: that I should open up my interpretations, my decision-making, my heart to others around me, and allow them to get in and mess with my “songs” and compositions.

This also, on the surface, makes no sense.

This process can also be excruciating and frustrating.

But just as in songwriting and creativity, I know that the harder path—the path of collaboration—yields richer results. The fields that are tilled in community grow greater crops than the small garden worked by myself. Even when the other guitarists are playing too loudly (I’m too old), even when the backbeat isn’t present enough, and even when the groove sounds too Coldplay and not enough Cash, it has to be worth it in the end.

Being in a band is hard.

But I think it’s the only way we’re really supposed to be.

2008-03-24T09:19:00.003-04:00

For once I am proud of my work.

I just completed the typical evangelical “Super Bowl” run. Well, really for church-worker types, there are two Super Bowls: Christmas and Easter. These are the two Sundays that people who don’t normally come to church may be so inclined to pull a door open and check things out.

And we live for this.

We ramp up for days, make sure the best is displayed, make sure that people can tell how happy you can be to be a Christian (especially if you go to our church), how Jesus is going to make your life so much better, just how cool it is to be “with us.”

And most of the time, I really don’t like it.

I know I’m over-thinking it, but I have never liked selling Jesus like a box of OxyClean. (what’s with that guy’s beard? He has to color that thing!) It’s not that I don’t believe in proclaiming Jesus, it’s just that most of my experiences with churches have been weighted in the extreme towards the proclamation, and not so much in the commitment. It’s almost as if we’ve inverted the iceberg. We downplay the communal commitment, the discipleship that is required—the sheer difficulty in doing this life of faith—and play up the mental ascent that Jesus died on the cross to pay for our sins and rose again to give us new life.

But I digress. A month ago, I set out to try and make this Easter different for our commitment. As evangelicals, we don’t do “Lent”, since (a) we have no idea what it means, and (b) even if we did, it smacks of high church (even Catholicism—eek!).

But this makes no sense. Easter without Lent, without Holy Week, is rootless and senseless. Before new life came betrayal, came torture, came denial, then death. Even Easter morning in the bible, rather than the plastic, toothy smiles and Easter lilies is much more textured and, well, real, then we care to try and portray.

Just read the scriptures.

The first Easter morning must have been scary as hell. Where was Jesus? Raised from the dead? Read the words: the disciples didn’t find out about the tomb and then plant some flowers and sing a Chris Tomlin song.

They freaked out.

It was hours before they began to calm down and deal with things, as Jesus began to appear and deal with them.

So the thing that pains me as a church-worker-guy is that we constantly have to over-simplify the emotions of scripture (and this while we proclaim that the bible is inerrant, and that we follow its words). We ignore the complicated reality of the stories in order to mine something to make our visitors feel good.

But I digress again; so I committed to taking our community through the pain of Holy Week as best I could. No false hope. Friday is “black Friday.” Saturday is full of doubt and confusion. No release. (A large church I used to work at actually used to celebrate Good Friday on Thursday. They saw no problem with this. Discuss)

And you know what? People went on the journey. And not only our community’s “high church refugees”. No, our new believers, our roughly hewn pilgrims. We had a gathering on Friday night that had no sermon; in fact nothing took place from the front platform. We emptied everything and forced people to just journey through the story, as best we could tell it.

And then on Sunday, we released it all (still not dealing with some of the ambiguities, but hey: baby steps). But the cool thing is that where most churches spend thousands of dollars on flowers (not the poor) and stress out about the perfect 75 minute program, we bought 10 lilies, and showed one video, and played some songs about hope in darkness.

And you know what? I think (know?) God was pleased. Pleased because we told the story—we remembered—and that’s all God requires us to do in a sense. We rehearse the salvation story over and over again, and hopefully it becomes more real over time, to ourselves and our communities.

We hype Jesus so much, and sometimes I’m afraid that it’s because we don’t think the actually simple story of scripture—of incarnation, teaching, atonement, and resurrection—is somehow not powerful enough on its own.

Isn’t that scary? More on this later…

But for now, I’m satisfied, though tired. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to say this as a church-worker-guy.

2008-03-23T11:44:00.002-04:00

That’s a wrap.

Friday we wrapped tracking for the record. Nathan was the honorary “last to give,” adding some light percussion to the tracks. However, we weren’t quite equipped with all the instruments and toys that we were envisioning, so we had to get inventive, and a little bit lo-fi. How lo-fi? Well, a large container of Lowry’s Seasoned Salt served as one shaker, a smaller container of sea salt was the other. Hand claps were supplied by the Case family children. It’s a family affair.

So what’s next?

First we sort through the five vocal tracks for each song, the 8 - 12 guitar takes for each song, the eight backup vocals for each song, and try to arrange and get all the “colors” into the right light. Then we’ll turn it over to a good friend for mixing, pick the final tracks and sequence them (critical) send it out for mastering, and then finish the art work.

All told, another 4 weeks of work.

But it’s worth it.

I know I’m biased, but these tracks really glisten and shine. I hope the heart, soul, and creativity that we poured into them will translate to everyone. There are new textures, new sounds, and we can’t wait for people to hear them.

See everyone soon.

2008-03-11T11:47:00.000-04:00

I came back from tracking a few hours ago. Today was Justin’s day, the day we were supposed to be all finished. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re done yet. A lot of the tracks just seem like they’re missing something, some kind of center that holds it all together. We were supposed to basically recording essentially our live arrangements, but as we got into it, we started experimenting here and there, and I think we drifted a bit into some more creative territory, which is fine, except that I’m not sure we have the time to do all of this and still get everything wrapped up in time.

I think we need to track some really stripped down, simple guitars just to give the tracks something to hang around.

Maybe all of this is normal. I’m not sure. I think at some point your mind definitely begins to play tricks on you and you start to second guess the way things sound.

2008-03-07T13:53:00.000-05:00

Studio Blog – Guitars, Day 1

We were supposed to begin tracking guitars today, beginning with Justin’s parts. Maida Vale guitars are going to be the biggest mountain for us to climb, since they provide most of the hooks and melodic/harmonic content in the band.

This was meant to be exciting, because we are doing a lot of this record ourselves—on our laptops, in our houses. So we had a spot all set up for doing the electrics, along with five of our collective amps, all our pedals and guitars. We wanted to establish some options for each other. We were going to do Justin first, because he had to fly out of town the next morning for the whole week. This was the one day we had to get all of this stuff done, which is plenty, considering he plays banjo and lap steel as well. Lots of things to do.

Then he got sick.

Some kind of flu virus just took him out, and we effectively lost a day. We’ll have to rethink the remaining schedule, and adjust on the fly in order to get this thing done by April or May. Stratton has us on a tight schedule…

2006-08-22T11:36:00.000-04:00

"We all run away, just don't forget to come back."

An acquaintenance of mine put this up on his MySpace page, after I'd mentioned it to him in an e-mail exchange. He was a guy I'd known in a previous ministry, and he'd really sort of "stepped off the path" since then. It was a simple phrase, but it was something he seized on, and hopefully he's on his way back to his Father now.

Be careful of what words we throw out, they can be life for folks...

e

2006-07-30T02:06:00.000-04:00

Remember that children's song that went, "Found a peanut, found a peanut..." and it had a line in there about eating a rotten one?

HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A ROTTEN PEANUT?

I think I just did. It was disgusting.

deep thoughts with eric

2006-07-06T00:42:00.000-04:00

"Transcendance" versus "Worship"

Been thinking about this for the past few days...

Was hanging out with a believing friend a while back, listening to ________________ (fill in the name of appropriately passionate and artful but "non-believing" band here), and he turned to me and said, "Why can't worship music be like this? THIS IS SO WORSHIPFUL." I nodded my head, because a large part of me really agreed with him.

But you know, as I thought about it more, I think he's actually a little bit off the mark (and so am I). I must be going through the middle-aged hardening of attitude and belief, where you start to cement and crystallize (for better, for worse) how you feel about "the big questions"...

See, this song that we were listening, while incredibly well-done and passionate and evocative, said nothing about, well, God. Nothing about Jesus or the Holy Spirit either, for that matter. In fact, it was pretty much devoid of any direct reference to anything "spiritual" except to clarify the way the write felt about his subject.

And that's why it's not worshipful, nor is it worship. It may be TRANSCENDANT, but it can never be worship, for worship is directly pointed towards God, and only Him. Ideally, our worship music should be TRANSCENDANT -- that is, it should be evocative, creative and passionate -- but transcendant music is NOT necessarily WORSHIPFUL.

Who cares?

Well, we should.

Why?

We should care because if you interact with the evangelical church at all, you most likely deal with artists -- in your bands, on your creative teams.

And artists are concerned with TRANSCENDANCE.

But not always work.

Transcendance can be "fuzzy". God exists and, while a mystery, is actually ULTIMATE reality.

Transcendance is concerned with moving people emotionally, artistically. WORSHIP says, "Though He slay me, yet will I praise His name."

A rich worship experience willl effectively tread the line between transcendance and worship, but we shouldn't give into the thought that a great pop song is worship just because it crosses over into the realm of something bigger than just notes and music.

There is always more to it than that.

2006-06-13T13:25:00.000-04:00

What the hell am I doing?

Since no one (I think) in my immediate faith community reads this, I think it’s safe to post this here.

We are leaving Chicago. We are leaving Chicago? We are leaving Chicago!! We are leaving??!!??

It’s so difficult to find the right punctuation…

What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Why am I being led this direction? I bounce back and forth between a quiet conviction and peace and a devastating heartbreak and even resentment. I am too attached to this place, this city, even this climate. I leave a land of 70-degree summer (well, at least until global warming fries us all) and snow for a place of heat humidity and 60-degree winters.

I jump ahead, already constructing my plan for returning: “Okay, in seven years I will do this…” But then I realize that in seven years my daughter will be in the middle of high school, and all the drama (trauma) that accompanies those years. I have a halting realization that it’s more than likely I will never return to this city. This thought breaks my heart.

I trust that God somehow is aware of my petty feelings and desires and will lead me to new dreams that will hopefully match my new life in the south. That’s where my life is now, however: in “hopefully” and “somehow”. I am in the land of faith and promise, but neither of those things equal “guarantee”, except where God’s presence is concerned. He ultimately promises nothing but himself. No new gigs, no new songs, no new gear, no good schools, no soul-friends, no peace, no contentment.

Nothing is thrown in with the package. He is the package, the whole deal. I know I want so much more, and I know from past experiences that He will more than likely help me out in my small faith, but I want so badly to see the end of the story now. Instead, I only get the step right in front of me. The rest is shrouded in fog and mystery (which isn’t so bad, since God appears in fog and mystery in the scripture).

So I take a step.

2006-06-08T00:30:00.000-04:00

Freaky, freaky God.

He is all over me right now. As Psalm 139 says, "He hems me in."

See, I have this problem. Not really ready to go into it in front of the 3 people who actually read this, but I have bad habits, habits that have been with me since I was in my teens. Oh, it's better now that I'm pushing 40, but they are still a very real struggle for me.

And I work nights.

So I find myself so many times alone at night, and wanting to fix. Wanting to feed the beast, the flesh, the man, the dark part of my soul, the imposter. And I do, given half a chance. When it happens, don't ask me to pray to God, because my god has become whatever is right in front of me. Frankly, at that point I'm not really interested in what God has to say. I just want what I want and I want it NOW and at whatever cost is asked.

But lately things have been different...

Cuz lately, God has been messing with me, exerting his sovereignty in creative yet firm ways. A friend calls. A friend shows up to give me a ride home so I won't be alone. He is arranging the events in my life to keep me from acting out. It's truly amazing and "awe-ful" to watch. He is so in control, and he is helping me when I truly cannot help myself. It's sobering and humbling. He cares so much for me.

One day I will be strong.

I think it's Psalm 23 or 25 that says that God forgives us not for OUR sake but for HIS NAME'S. That's a comforting thought. His mercy is for HIS glory and he fiercely guards that.

I'm amazed. "I created the world in seven days... all this... watch what I can do in your life..."

yes.

2006-06-06T11:26:00.000-04:00

2006-06-06T11:15:00.000-04:00

"One Habit of a Semi-Ineffective Person"

Ever read Covey's SEVEN HABITS... ? One of his big things is this idea of your "circle of influence" or "control". The thought that you can't control your circumstances, but you can ALWAYS control your response to them. Most days, I really like that thought: I can control my emotions; I can exert my will over my response to a given day. It's a good feeling.

But then there's today...

Where did I get this morose tendency to wallow in -- even love (?) -- my anger and depression? I wake up and it takes one misstep and not only am I in a foul mood, on some strange, pathological level, I LIKE IT!!! My thinking goes all wacko, and I begin to think that Stephen Covey is way off the mark (as Spike Lee would say, "Stephen Covey, stop smokin that crack!"). I start to think, "No, it's GOOD to be angry, it's good to feel this way; it makes me human." But that's a crock of s*##, isn't it? When I see the little damage I inflict on my children with my little verbal assaults to just try and get them out the door for school, I realize THAT can't be right, either.

I wonder when my thinking went this way. It is a genetic handoff from my mother, a piece of the emotional brokenness that has ranged through her family? I don't remember when things began to turn. I'm mature enough to know that I can't shrug my shoulders and claim, "Well, I'm an artist, and that's just who I am." No, who I AM is a busted up sinner who can't get it together. But this MUST come from somewhere.

I see this "To Do" list, and I don't want to do it, whether it's in my Circle of Influence or not. I just want to go back to bed, but I know that the solutions won't "just happen."

I.
am.
stressed.

2006-04-25T12:59:00.000-04:00

Where’s My Sacrifice? Thoughts on Worship Leading in the Modern Church

A story from the bible that has always haunted me occurs at the end of the 2nd Book of Samuel. King David wants to build an altar to God on some land that belongs to a guy named Araunah. Either because David is King, or because Araunah is generous, or some other reason, Araunah offers to give the land to David, but he refuses, saying, “I insist on paying for it. I will not sacrifice to the Lord my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing.”

As I survey my own worship ministry, I am convicted and challenged by David’s words. What I often hear (and feel myself) is musicians desperately wanting to express themselves in worship: “How can I inject a little of my personality into the music we are playing on Sunday morning?” “Where do I come in to the music we are playing?”

It’s the artistic drive, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I believe that God honors the arts and enables people to produce beautiful and moving creations for His glory and to tell His story. Two early instances come to mind, when He chooses Bezalel and Oholiab to design and craft the many items around the tabernacle in the desert (Exodus 31), and also the early assignment of musicians to Solomon’s temple (1 Chronicles 23). I’ve been blessed to participate in a few ministries that carry on this tradition of craftsmanship and musicianship, and those experiences are dear to my heart. I think they’ve blessed God’s heart as well, and they have helped many of His children to come home to their heavenly Father.

Moreover, in many of our churches today, there is a strong desire to become “more creative”, to present the Gospel in new and exciting ways, to keep pace with this culture that is increasingly becoming oriented toward the visual and symbolic. There are vital ministries that are determined to redeem the arts for God, and to show the wider culture that Christians can be creative; that worship of God is alive, dynamic, and compelling. I also think this is a good thing.

However, as an artist and a worship leader, and in light of the previous two facts, David’s statement troubles me. When you combine the drive to be artistically relevant with the sometimes highly individualistic and personal nature of Western Caucasian Christianity, I think it’s entirely possible to miss the aspect of “sacrifice” in our worship (from a worship team/worship leader perspective). While we acknowledge that part of our sacrifice as worship leaders is our time and preparation on our instrument, I’m afraid that the benefit of playing music at times far outweighs the cost of rehearsal time. We get more out of worship than what we put in, and I’m not talking spiritually. I’m taking for granted—assuming—that the spiritual blessings God gives us in worship are richer than anything else we could find. I’m talking musically, artistically. In its mission to make the arts more compelling and exciting, we are in danger of cultivating attitudes of personal artistic fulfillment and reward. Lately I’ve been feeling like one of our ministerial responsibilities as worship leaders is to mitigate these attitudes, to head them off as we see them emerge on our teams, as we hear people say, “I get frustrated when I don’t get to put enough of me into our music.” Or “When can we play a song that we get to rock out on?”

Even if we are not hearing overt frustrations, I think the question for us is, “How am I leading my team towards attitudes of willing sacrifice? How can we say, as David said, ‘I will not offer to God that which costs me nothing.’”

For those of us who are in ministries that are blessed with some exciting musical/artistic happenings, I think we need constantly find ways to lead our teams to sacrifice. Cultivate a willingness to lay down – not just our “selves”, but our “artists” (which is considerably more difficult). Needless to say, it begins at the “top”, with me.

2006-03-24T18:26:00.000-05:00

I believe in something called “transcendence”. I believe that the eternal is out there, desperately trying to get our attention as we go about our busy lives, trying to get us to pause long enough to appreciate moments of great beauty. Most of the time we’re too busy walking with our heads down and our eyes focused on the road right in front of us, but if we slow down long enough, we may be apprehended by the eternal and blessed by the life we are experiencing.

I had such a moment tonight. On my way home from a gig… standing on the El platform at Belmont, just reading. Dozens of people around: some touristy family, some people out partying, and a bunch of Hispanic men and women on their way home from work. I’m reading a book, listening to Spooky Ghost. As “A New Promise” begins, I pause, and I look at the light snow that’s beginning to fall. God, it’s a beautiful moment, pregnant with possibilities and beauty. A. Perfect. Freakin. Moment. Transcendance. How I wish that I could write the words that would more adequately convey what I was experiencing in those few minutes, but words fail.

The drunk guy and his girl who was trying to steady him on the platform, the hipsters around me, all seem to be in perfect alignment with the song and weather. The orange street lights, the haze and mist. I’m standing there with a stupid grin on my face.

Who would ever want to leave here?

“I guess I’ll see you after…”

Yes, I believe in transcendence.

2006-03-11T21:51:00.000-05:00

Pharisees.

If you interact with the Christian church, as I do, you hear a lot about these guys. We mock them for being so clueless to Jesus' "secret identity." We rail at them for being so legalistic and moralistic, for loving to judge and condemn. Let's face it, they're big, easy targets in the gospels, and it's not difficult to take the evidence there and pass judgment.

However, I cannot. I can't because I see too much of myself in their story. My legalism, my disdain for "sinners"anyone who challenges my idea of what "acceptable Christian living" isis all too evident to me.

I find it troubling as well, that so many of our "biblical" teachers blindly join in the chorus of ridicule and condescension of the Pharisees (a group that, strangely enough, shared more key beliefs with Jesus than the other major competing religious groups of his time: the afterlife, holiness, engagement with the world, etc., etc.). I'm afraid that what it produces is a kind of spiritual arrogance in our churches' congregations that laugh at the (often unfunny) jokes and thank God that they're not like the Pharisees, all the while living a life unexamined, and missing the pointing fingers, the narrow walls that govern their own lives.

It seems to me that one of the Pharisees' mistakes was that they had reduced God's work on earth to too many rules and regulations. But don't I do the same thing? Do this thing and God will like you. Communion must look a certain way. God can only work in churches, and furthermore churches that are subscribing to certain doctrine.

Christ (and Godread the Old Testament, really) came to blow open the doors of our perceptions about how God works, about who can come to Him. The Psalmist declares that only those who are righteous (perfect) and those who don't engage in any form of moral nastiness can come to God. Christ says, "Yeah, right, but guess what: God's stance towards you first is love. Take a step towards God in faith, and he will take steps towards you (indeed, He probably already has, we're just blind to it). As you draw near, God begins to bring that righteousness into fruition through faith in Christ's work on the cross

Wow, did that end up sounding theological. Preach, preacher!

I believe that God is active in the world. We become "Pharisees" whenever we come to believe that He will only work in ways that are acceptable and understandable to us.

I believe that we all stand in need of a savior. We become "Pharisees" whenever we come to believe that somehow our sins are "not as evil" or "better" than others' sin