U2 on Grace and Karma

I haven't really kept up on my music collection over the years; I'm still several albums behind on such greats as Vigilantes of Love, Over the Rhine and U2. But I love, love love, reading an interview with Bono (lead singer for U2). He preaches, he meddles, but man, he gets the point across. Go read this. All of it. Would that we could all articulate it so clearly.

Because I Can't

Music is not one of my talents. Yes, this might seem odd coming from a guy who has five guitars, but it's largely true: I have very little talent for music. I've got a tin ear, can't read music to save my life, and Deborah has been so baffled by my sense of rhythm over the years that she doesn't even comment on it anymore.

So why am I doing this?

I publicly committed myself to playing an offertory with Paul. Why? Because cello and bass sound so cool together? Yes, but also, because it's the only way I'll get better.

I'm not normally one to sit down and practice every day, just for the sake of practice itself. I need a reason. I am told that mountain climbers will occasionally put themselves into positions where the only way they can go is up. "When the only way you can go is up," I read, "you jolly well go up."

Same deal: I volunteer for public performances precisely because I'm bad at it. It might take me a month, I might have to painstakingly figure out each note, and practice until my fingers bleed, but I will get it. I will play.

And, in the end, play I did.

I forgot to bring the camera to record our final performance together, which in many respects is just as well. The fact that I made it through a difficult piece (well, an easy piece I'd made difficult by trying to play two parts at once!) will have to be the reward — learning, stretching, climbing that mountain, not because it's there, not because I can — but because I can't.

A Little Christmas Cheer

Just for you, a live-on-location recording of "Jingle Bells" with Miss Fiona Kerr, accompanied by Deborah. It puts a smile on my face; it might put one on yours, too. :-)

Throw Towel Here

I've started this message four times now, each time with a different intention — putting this blog on hiatus, quitting everything, rebooting life, running away — just to say something, or to say why I haven't said anything, to to rail against the need to say anything.

I'm not doing well. I feel an acute lack of time, energy, and creativity. It's no help as I'm heading into the most intense time of the year at work, with demands for daily manic creativity.

And now, I'm going to tell you something strange about myself.

I can tell roughly how bad off I am by the song that runs unbidden through my head each morning. As I am now, it's Third Day's King of Glory:

Who is this King of Glory that pursues me with his love
And haunts me with each hearing of His softly spoken words
My conscience, a reminder of forgiveness that I need
Who is this King of Glory who offers it to me

Who is this King of angels, O blessed Prince of Peace
Revealing things of Heaven and all its mysteries
My spirit's ever longing for His grace in which to stand
Who is this King of glory, Son of God and son of man

His name is Jesus, precious Jesus
The Lord Almighty, the King of my heart
The King of glory

...which isn't a bad song, not by any stretch of the imagination. (Video here, if you're curious.) It's just played in a way that sounds like a deep breath of longing, and restoration that is so desperately needed. And it is.

When things are truly awful, Leslie Phillips starts running through my head. Now, I normally wouldn't admit to even knowing anything about '80s Christian pop (*shudder*) but somehow this song still sticks with me:

I open my eyes to the sound of morning news
And wish for ten more minutes left to sleep
and as I get into the shower the thoughts of facing one more day
Overwhelm me and I begin to weep
And I've never felt like I've needed Your help, so bad

Bridge 1:*
And every day I look to you
To be the strength of my life
You're the hope I hold onto
Be the strength of my life

Chorus:
Be the strength of my life
Strength of my life Be the strength of my life today
Be the strength of my life Strength of my life
Be the strength of my life today

* It's been 25 years since I've heard this, any my mind has simplified it a bit by deleting a few verses. If you can stand the sound of a 1985 camcorder ported to YouTube, you can get an idea of what the song sounded like here.

What I find remarkable is the unbidden nature of it, its consistency, and the fact that it's usually just what I need. And what I need, apparently, is to be drawn back to Jesus — who is this King of Glory, pursuing me with His love.

Heart Beat

Deborah had another birthday (yes, yes, I know, I'm more than a month behind here...) and here shows off two of her presents:

1. A light-up heart-shaped graphic-equalizer T-shirt (consider the hyphenation!) from May, and;

2. Said shirt interacting with a CD of Muse, from me.

That's all. Just too cool not to share. :-)

Deep Bass Sunshine

A side effect of our "Gingerbread in June" party was that the back room (a.k.a. "The Everything Room") got a very thorough cleaning — so much so that it's now the emptiest, neatest room in the house. Deborah even cleaned her desk. The empty space is inspiring, as is the afternoon sun shining in the window.

Sunday afternoon, while waiting for my internet connection to return, I realized that I could be doing something instead of sitting there being frustrated. My bass amp sits beside the computer; why not keep the bass there, too, and just practice a bit while waiting for other things? For that matter, why not just sit there and play? As I've discovered again, you really do play a lot more if your instrument close at hand, and not sitting in a case halfway across the house.

* * *

Somewhere along the line, I discovered that Fiona has a way with words for music. The Call's Let the Day Begin — one of my favorite driving songs — is "Happy music! It makes me want to jump around!" while a soft, moody piece I wrote for the bass is "a song for relaxing outside, sitting under a tree in the sunshine!" I've started trying to find new and interesting bass lines to play, just to see what she'll say about them. (The theme to Inspector Gadget, incidentally, is pretty much all accidentals. How appropriate.) It's fun to watch her stop, and listen to each new riff, as she tips back and forth from foot to foot, just drinking it in and smiling before she starts dancing around the room, a different dance for every song.

This kid is made of music.

Under the Blankets, Over the Rhine

Let’s spend the day in bed
On our very own bed spread
A pajama holiday
Catch a black and white matinee
Spoon-feed these new daydreams
And just stay home

We’ll read Shel Silverstein
Where The Sidewalk Ends
Smile about old friends
Try to comprehend
One single day
No work and only play
Kick off your shoes
I’m gonna spend the day in bed with you

If there was a song for Sunday, that would be it. Paul called early in the morning to let us know Church had been canceled due to the ice storm. And with that, we flopped back onto our pillows and reveled in our laziness — or, at least, until the kids claimed to be hungry. I don't think I even changed out of my pajamas until late afternoon, and that was because I had gotten us tickets to go see Over the Rhine up in Goshen that evening.

It seems strange to think that we could drive all the way to Goshen when we could barely stand up on our own sidewalk, but the main roads were clear and smooth all the way there. We found that plenty of people we knew had made the journey, too, including half a dozen people I know from work. The Goshen Theater was a lovely place to have it; small, cozy, with much character, some of the latter due to some much-needed renovations. We got seats just a few rows from the stage and acted like teenagers on a date. Which we were, aside from not being teenagers anymore.

They claim this is their favorite time of year to tour. It shows, doesn't it?

The opening song set the bar high:

I don’t wanna waste your time
With music you don’t need
Why should I autograph the book
That you won’t even read
I’ve got a different scar for every song
And blood left still to bleed
But I don’t wanna waste your time
With music you don’t need

And I certainly didn't feel like my time was wasted. They had just released two albums in the space of a few months, neither of which I'd heard yet, so it was a treat to hear them live for the first time. The title track off of Trumpet Child was electrifying:

The trumpet child will blow his horn
Will blast the sky till it’s reborn
With Gabriel’s power and Satchmo’s grace
He will surprise the human race

The trumpet he will use to blow
Is being fashioned out of fire
The mouthpiece is a glowing coal
The bell a burst of wild desire

The trumpet child will riff on love
Thelonious notes from up above
He’ll improvise a kingdom come
Accompanied by a different drum

The trumpet child will banquet here
Until the lost are truly found
A thousand days, a thousand years
Nobody knows for sure how long

The rich forget about their gold
The meek and mild are strangely bold
A lion lies beside a lamb
And licks a murderer’s outstretched hand

The trumpet child will lift a glass
His bride now leaning in at last
His final aim to fill with joy
The earth that man all but destroyed

Of course, If you only listened to the albums, or read the lyrics, you'd think the band was all sadness and longing and poetry. I hadn't counted on was the humor. Linford Detweiler, (keyboardist/songwriter) has a sense of humor so dry it could be used for kindling. The drummer — aside from having the worst haircut I've ever seen on anyone — comes off as the irrepressible prankster who you need to keep an eye on lest he run away with things. The singer, Karin Bergquist, would just shake her head in a way that said, "Boys!" ...and that was part of the joke, too. Possibly the only person on stage who was playing it completely straight was the bass player — but one can't help but suspect that the corners of his mouth were twitching.

All too soon, we were calling for an encore, and all too soon, that was over, too, and we were on our way back home, the tires hissing in the quiet night.