Eyeballs

My eyeballs are letting me down.

The fact is, they've never been much to write home about. They've never been functioning at maximum capacity. For me, it's a way of life.

When I was a little kid, I tried to take piano lessons. I was SO excited about learning the piano. But the teacher told my parents I just didn't have musical talent. (This was said with certainty about an individual who grew up to sing, play drums, guitar, some keys and a little banjo to boot, not to mention playing in several bands and writing hundreds of songs.)

Turns out, the real issue was my eyeballs. They couldn't see like they should if the music was too far from my face, which it was, and no one knew about it until after I was expelled from the world of the Piano-Forte. What did I know? I thought that's what the world looked like. And my physical limitation had me branded as a "no talent."

I have lived with this eye thing my whole life and I am not really sore about it. At this point, it would be like being sore because you have brown hair or green eyes. It's just the way it is.

And now my eyeballs have started a new journey of instability and insufficiency. They call it "Vitreous Detachment." The inside of my eyes are sort of falling apart. People don't seem to realize, in general, how gooey and gross the inside of an eye is. But when it starts coming apart in there and blocking your vision, well, it's hard to ignore. It's like looking through a veil of snot floating in salt water. And it's stubborn. It won't move out of the way

I'm told I will probably not go blind. Probably. And I have to admit that I like seeing things. But I will still have to adjust to the pseudosnot inside my eyes, clouding the sunniest of days. I also have to watch diligently for other signs of trouble.

Your body, it seems to me, is supposed to be your friend. It carries around your taste buds, which makes eating enjoyable. I'm thankful for that. It carries around your brain, which is certainly helpful. But as time goes by, this good friend starts letting you down a little bit at a time. You start losing your trust in this old buddy ol'pal. But what can you do?

In this case, it's the only friend you've got.




Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2015

LW Christmas Updated Update

It has been fun hearing different people talk about the songs they like on the Christmas recording. Women and young children seem to particularly like Away In A Manger. The teens and twenty somethings like O Come Emmanuel. And a lot of the 40 and 50 somethings seem to really like It Came Upon A Midnight Clear. It’s interesting to see what strikes different people.

I’ve listened to the recording now about 7.5 million times. I had to play each song over and over and over and over and over again while recording, mixing and mastering with the other guys. And I’ve had in on in the car. As of today, I think I like listening to Coventry Carol the most. It might be a different one tomorrow. But Coventry Carol turned out like a little chamber orchestra piece, in a way. It’s simple, but I think it’s cool how it turned out.

Some people have asked if In the Bleak Midwinter is an original song. It’s not. Coventry Carol and In the Bleak Midwinter are both standard carols in England/Europe. A friend of mine is from Scotland and he said he grew up singing those songs as a child. The only original music on the recording is By The Fire, which is based on a poem by Longfellow, and the bridge to Away In A Manger. Everything else is a traditional piece from the Public Domain.

It was very hard to get done, but now that it’s done and I get to sit in the car and listen to it while I do other things, it’s kind of fun to listen to it. You sort of forget that it’s your own thing. It just becomes its own thing. The music of the spheres.

Anyhow. It’s been doing well for the church. It’s helping a lot. And our musicians are pretty proud of it, which makes me happy. Now they’re talking about recording a worship set of original songs for summer, and then another Christmas one for next year. It makes me a little tired to even think of doing it, but we’ll see.

I’ll mention again that you can get the download for a donation of 10 bucks or more at the church website. If you want a CD you’ll have to contact me. We appreciate, seriously, how kind and generous everyone has been with this. You are a wonderfully amazing people out there.

Yep. This is the Link.

Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

LW Christmas Vol. 01

I know, I haven't been very vigilant with the blog. I haven't lost interest, I've just been otherwise occupied.

I've been doing my first full production job for a Christmas recording. Using my small studio set up, I and a group of intrepid ar teests have been producing a set of songs to help raise money for our church. And it's finally FINISHED!! It is a grass roots production, but not as grass roots as you might think. We've got CD's and there is a download option at our church website. It's a ten dollar donation thing.

In case you don't realize it yet, today's blog is the first of many shameless promotions that I'm going to be involved with over the next few weeks.

Hundreds of hours of time and labor and kindness have been poured into this thing at zero cost for our church (dollar wise) and every single penny we manage to gather is going to the church to help get a decent building fund up and running. An artist/art teacher at the church did the cover art for us. Some of our musicians helped me get the mastering done. A bunch of people put their voices and musical ability on it, and we even have the kids from church singing on it. If we do another one, we're going to get more people on it next time. We just ran out of time this year.


Like I said, it's to help raise much needed funds. If you want a copy on CD you'll have to contact me, or better yet, show up at church and get one there. The easiest thing would be to get the download, which you will find at the following link on our church website:

LIVINGWATER CHRISTMAS V1

I thank you in advance for your support, and I hope you enjoy the songs. Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2011

The Reckoning

NEEDTOBREATHE''s new release, The Reckoning, came out yesterday. I normally buy the CD of my favorite bands, but I couldn't resist the price and simplicity of the digital download, so that's what I went with this time. Though I'm kind of sorry that I don't have the CD insert to hold in my hands and read through. I like the details. I'm going to look later and see if they posted it on their website to look at.

One thing about the album art. If you don't know the band, I think you would easily assume that this is a band called "The Reckoning. The band name is almost impossible to see in any online image you find. It's in the bottom right corner, saying "needtobreath no.4" because it's their fourth release. They seem to have done this on purpose, but it might not be a good idea in the long run.

Anyway. I thought it would be interesting to talk about the recording after only hearing it one time. Things change after listening to it a few times. You start to get it. But I was considering my first impression, and here's what I think.

It's very good. It has a more accomplished feel to it musically and the lyrics seem more complex, both in structure and in imagery. But at the same time, these same things make it less immediately accessible. It's not as hooky or radio ready as the last few releases. That can be good because you can listen to it more and it can stay with you longer. It can be bad because it might not grab you and make you want to keep listening.

Some of the best recordings, in my opinion, are a collection of some songs that work to draw you in quick, matched with some songs that draw you in deeper. This release has that immediate draw, I think, with songs like "Slumber" and "Able" and the opening song "Oohs and Ahhs" while other songs run a little deeper. So it's there. But it's not as bright as it might have been. So we'll see how I like it in a week or so.

On the very first listen, the song "Able" was the most intriguing to me. It made me want to stop and really listen and figure it out. But the recording as a whole is excellent, which is no surprise because this band is phenomenal. 

I suppose in the end it comes down to this: It's got a good beat and you can dance to it.

© LW Publishing 2011

The Crwth

I can’t remember if I mentioned this before, and I’m too lazy to check. But I was doing some research into my last name and I found out that my last name means something close to “the player of the Crwth.” The Crwth? Never heard of it. It sounds like something made up by Lovecraft, but it’s a real thing. Turns out a Crwth is a musical instrument. It kind of looks like a lute, or a guitar, depending on how you want to stretch it. It looks like this:

According to some of the things I've read, it’s a Welsh instrument, popularly used in music for about a thousand years. It was played with a bow, like a violin, but it had a flat bridge, so you couldn't play it one note at a time like a violin. That means it was probably used primarily to accompany a singer or another instrument. It’s probably the violin that killed off the Crwth because you could play melodic lines, so it was a more versatile instrument.

I thought I’d buy a Crwth and learn to play it. Makes sense, right? But the cheapest one I could find is a box Crwth for about $500 dollars. A real Crwth, carved out of a large piece of wood, can run you about $3000, and usually has to be ordered from England.

Yikes.

If you don’t know me personally, it is fitting that my name is about a person who plays a musical instrument. I have been involved with music almost my entire life. And it’s a big part of my heritage. My grandfather was a string player. He played violin, or “fiddle” as he would have called it, as well as guitar and banjo. The story goes, in the family, that he tried out for the Grand Ole Opry in Tennessee, but the pay wasn’t enough so he refused and took a job at the factories in Detroit instead. It’s stunningly frustrating to think about. I can totally relate to his situation. Music don’t much pay de bills.

So I’m thinking about taking my name back to the original. It would be something like “McCrwther.” I love that. But I wouldn’t really change my name. Another way of pronouncing it is the last name “Crowder,” which is from the same root, so David Crowder and myself might be related. Ya know. Talent running in the family and all. Heh heh. Maybe I can use that as a cheap excuse to get him to record one of my songs.

I’m reminded at this point of sir Michael Jackson, who said, and I quote: “You keep dreamin’”


Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Motown Museum

So, as I was saying a while back, the Motown Museum leaves a lot to be desired. And it’s a downright dirty shame. It’s still a fun place to check out simply because of the history. If you admire the different artists, the history and the Funk Brothers, like I do, then going there is a very humbling experience. But the reality is that the place is deplorably lacking in funds. There is no energy or seriousness about it as an experience.

It’s inexcusable when you consider the people and the money that passed through the place. You could hand pick several individual Motown artists of the past or present who could single handedly amp up the place to something much more presentable. Not to mention the Gordy family. What about the Jacksons? Stevie Wonder? The list is huge.

The Motown museum should be a MAJOR attraction in the city of Detroit. It should have been for years. If it had been done right, and marketed right, the Baby Boomers would have flocked to it, bringing their kids. It could have been bringing massive amounts of income to the city, if handled right.

The biggest problem with the city of Detroit is not what has been done, it’s what hasn’t been done. The same is true in a lot of businesses and churches. It’s the missed opportunities. And Detroit has missed a lot with their failure to attract businesses and entertainment.

Mike Ilitch is the obvious exception to all of this. I know people have different opinions about him. I don’t know anything about him personally. But he and his wife have certainly invested heavily in the city of Detroit. They’re from the Detroit area and obviously have a personal passion for making the city shine while pursuing their business interests. It’s a great thing.

But where are the others? Are people being chased off by the city government? All of those Motown artists, producers and executives who moved west when Motown did and never looked back? I know that a lot of the artists were shafted by the payment system. Royalties were rare. But others have made massive incomes. And with a well planned effort, I think they could make even more with a carefully put together and promoted Motown.

And say none of that works out?

How about this? Find a way, whatever it takes, to move the Motown Museum, piece by piece if necessary, and set it up at the Henry Ford Museum complex. It could be a whole new section, with the history of Detroit tied into it. 12th street, with the positives of the clubs and other record companies, as well as the reality of the riots and their connection to it. Old Tiger Stadium. Sports in Detroit. Classic Jazz clubs. The theaters and Woodward Avenue. The possibilities are endless. It would draw the Baby Boomers. It would add huge value to the Henry Ford experience. And it might just help draw some people from Detroit to the Henry Ford.

What it comes down to is Motown deserves better. The historical impact of Motown records is both musical and cultural and political. It is massive and it needs to be promoted and respected.


Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2011

McCartney in Detoit

My brother in-law, Dan, called a while back to have us set aside the night because he had gotten tickets to McCartney at Comerica Park in Detroit. This is the same bro in-law that got tickets for the Rolling Stones a few years ago. Yes. Dan is awesome.

I’ve never been much of a Stones fan, but I recognize the talent and the influence.They are a piece of history from a musical perspective, so it was fun to see them and be able to say, “I’ve seen the Stones.” I can also say, “I’ve seen Stevie Ray.” “I’ve seen Queen.” (Yes, the Freddie Mercury Queen.) “I’ve seen E.L.O.” “I’ve seen Buddy Rich.” “I’ve seen Chick Corea.” "I've seen B.B. King." I could go on, but the point is that I've seen a lot of elemental, essential musical acts over the years. And now I can say, “I’ve seen McCartney.”

And boy have I. This show, I have to say, was unbelievable. Paul is in his late sixties, but he kept going and going like the Energizer bunny. It had a kind of Springsteen gung ho about the whole thing. And he took the time to talk to the crowd. He had gone to see the Motown museum during the day. Which, I have to say, is a bit embarrassing to me because the Motown Museum should be a huge, well put together, amazing attraction. Instead, it’s a bit of a dreary and uninspiring thing, almost entirely because no one seems to want to invest any real money into it. But I digress. I’ll post about that tomorrow so I can finish getting it off my chest. McCartney was kind in not saying anything bad about the museum. He just went on to play hit after hit after hit after hit after hit after...

I’m not kidding. He had a very tight band that played with a lot of energy. And I think he could have still been playing his hits as I write this the next day, but he had to stop because he had played for three hours and people had to get up for work in the morning.

It was interesting to me that people really enjoyed this show on a purely visceral level. It was an event. It was packed with, I don’t know, around 70,000 people? The atmosphere was up and expectant. And the sound, compared to the Stones a few years ago, was great. The Stones show was kind of cavernous and muddy, which I wrote off to the huge outdoor venue. But McCartney’s crew demonstrated clearly that you can produce good sound in the stadium. Not great, but good. I’m not sure great is even possible. They played their butts off and they played all these great songs that most everyone knew. People sang together and laughed at his every little joke and when he did the song “Live and Let Die,” with fireworks popping off all over the place, people were really charged up, and it was all a lot of fun.

But let me tell you what got to me.

Here’s this guy. His name is Paul. He’s a middle class kid living in a middle class town in England. And he really likes pop music. Buddy Holly. The Motown sound. Elvis. That kind of thing. One day he gets a guitar and starts to learn how to play. Then he meets a friend named John and they start writing songs together. John is extremely talented. A little more serious. Paul has better chops but he likes John and John is more of a push things ahead kind of guy. Together, they really have an ear for chord changes and the blending of different genres. They get a band together and play everywhere they can. They start putting a few of their own songs in with the covers at their shows. Eventually, some guy sees them playing, and while they’re pretty rough, not very accomplished, they have a certain energy that he likes, and their songs do have a sense of craft about them. So they get a manager, then a record deal and they release an album that in it’s day, market wise, was the equivalent of the Jonas Brothers releasing an album. They were a “boy band.” But within a few months, their song writing chops, their blending of styles and harmony, all of the careful listening and emulating, started to pay off. Their songs began to take on a very high quality of craftsmanship, lifting them out of the boy band crowd. And, for six years, they recorded those songs. Six years of massive output.

Then McCartney and the others went on to keep writing and recording. And they all had their strengths and weaknesses. But, from a craft standpoint, from the standpoint of being a dedicated and careful writer of popular songs, none of the others came close to McCartney. And the concert last night confirmed this in a huge way. People can argue about this, but the evidence is clear.

As a song writer, it is very humbling to sit through hour after hour of such craft and dedication and talent. And then, when it’s over, you realize he could have kept going with his songs, for many hours. Some lighthearted melodic writing with simple words. Some complex, movement oriented pieces with cryptic lyrics. Some very poetic things with strong counter point and thoughtfulness. All written by an extremely talented songwriter who never learned to read melodic music notation.

There is a reason Paul McCartney is the most successful and wealthy song writer in history. Some estimates are that he is “worth” around 1.5 billion dollars. Which is no fluke, it’s no accident.  It’s easy to see that, as an artist, he doesn’t care so much about the money. In the end, it’s the songs that matter to him. The man can write songs that stick to people like BBQ sauce sticks to ribs.

I enjoyed the show a lot. But, more than anything, I was moved by the sheer song writing talent. This is what can happen when a person, any person, gets passionate about art, develops it and respects it as a craft, and shares it with others.


Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Squishing Out Songs

Late last night I was in the basement mixing a song that I’ve been working on. It’s a painful process in some ways. Some people compare it to giving birth, but that’s stupid. I have watched my wife give birth and suggesting that writing a song is comparable to that effort is the height of ignorance. But there is a kind of squishing, pushing, shoving, working to get this thing out of your mind and have it “work.” That’s my word for it. Some things “work” and some don’t. They fit, they click, they fill in the missing pieces: however you want to put it. There is this element of craft that is built on discipline, but it really blooms with the heart.

As I work on my songs, I have to compensate a lot for my weaknesses, and that can take up a lot of time. But things still come together. And when I hear them coming together, it makes me weep. I’m not kidding. I know it’s pathetic, but I have been a long time getting to this place.

Crafting songs is a challenge. I don’t think I would ever be totally satisfied, no matter what. I suppose I could have a world class producer, a multimillion dollar studio and a lot more ability than I have, and I’d still find things that just aren’t what they need to be. It’s kind of a curse. But I’m trying hard to learn to be satisfied, especially with my radically low end set up.

So far, I have three church songs that are basically finished. They need to be mastered, which I don’t know how to do. I also have a country song that’s been done for a while, but I frankly am not sure what to do with it. People I play it for like it, but I know nothing about the country market. And I have about 6 songs in the pipe, being developed and chipped away at, along with about 30 demos and some other pieces of things that aren’t whole yet. And then there's the backlog of probably 40 or 50 more songs that I haven't even started getting organized. Interestingly, so far they are all very different in a lot of ways. I don’t have a “sound” but I don’t especially want one. I’m not particularly looking to perform these myself. I’m hoping to have others do that.

When I say “craft” I really mean it. Not in the Harry Potter sense, but in the skilled trades sense. Like a carpenter. Like an artist who carves statues. Like a teacher trying to shape the mind of a student. Music and writing and a lot of other arts are, at their core, a craft that has to be developed and nurtured. Which takes time and patience and massive amounts of commitment.

Even the most absolutely pathetic pop stars are usually surrounded by excellent craftspeople. They wouldn’t ever release any music if they weren’t. I’ve got some people helping me that are way more than I deserve. Very gifted and willing to be there to get things done. Without them I’d probably only have one song up by now. And even with the great musicians, few of them have it all in themselves to get great things done.

Squishing out songs is a team effort.



Peace to you.
© LW Publishing 2011

It Sounds Like...

So I was working on some songs with some musicians and one of them sent me a note saying that the tag on this one song of mine reminded him of the Raconteurs. I’d heard of the Raconteurs but I’d never heard the Raconteurs, at least not while knowing it was them. So I picked up a Raconteurs CD and he’s right, it does sound a bit like that.

Come to find out, Jack White is in this band, the guy from the White Stripes, which I am pretty familiar with. Think heavy Robert Plant influenced singer, filtered through Detroit scene, swirled around in a little punk and avant garde and there you go.

I remember the first time I saw Jack White live was on this sort of “command performance” thing that Obama put on in honor of Paul McCartney. It was different artists playing Beatles and Wings songs, that kind of thing, then Paul came up at the end and played a few things.

Jack White was way out of place in this gathering. He’s extremely talented, but not in conventional ways, except for, maybe, his guitar playing, which is pretty amazing if you ask me. But he seemed shy and uncomfortable, and his scratchy off kilter rock voice was quickly followed up by some country singer who had pitch perfect pipes. It just wasn’t a good showcase.

But, so far, I like this Raconteurs stuff. Maybe better than White Stripes. I don’t know. I haven’t listened to it enough yet.

Jack White is actually from the Detroit area. And it’s weird how that gives musicians in this area a little hope. “If he can do it, maybe...” But this is Motown, baby. That alone makes me feel part of an important tradition as a musician. And if you’re born anywhere near it, you can claim it. Stevie Wonder was born in Saginaw, but he’s from Motown. Bob Seger was born in Dearborn, but he’s Motown too. Jackie Wilson, like Jack White, was actually born in Detroit. Now that’s Motown.

And now, back to our sponsor...

Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2011

Interplay

 I’ve been listening to a lot of different music lately and have been trying to pay attention to what grabs me while I’m listening.

You’d think the words would be the thing, but the words have more potential to push me away than draw me in. As long as the words aren’t so stupid or corrupt that they drive me away from a song, I find that I’m looking for something more complex.

Even in the simplest songs that have more than one instrument, there is a combining of rhythms and tones that are crisscrossing, moving and changing. And I find that this causes a really strong response in me both emotional and, I think, physical.

It can be something classical, like Bach’s Goldberg Variations. I have a recording by Dmitry Sitkovetsky where he arranges this keyboard music for strings. It is, in my opinion, some of the best music ever recorded. Hearing it on strings is almost like hearing it move from two dimensions into three. I always go back to listening to it over and over again because the interplay in the music is endlessly compelling and profound.

But it doesn’t have to be classical. The music of James Brown or Tower of Power, Thelonius Monk or Chick Corea. The complexities of the drum programming that Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis produce. David Crowder’s melodic twists, stringing out against changing patterns. The counter melodies that some country and folk and pop artists craft between the instruments and voice.

There is a math to all of this that rises above numbers on a page or musical notes on a staff. It’s like finding the answers to questions you didn’t even know you had.

There’s an old hymn from the 1800's called “This Is My Father’s World.” And there’s a line in the song that says, "This is my Father's world, and to my list'ning ears all nature sings and round me rings the music of the spheres.”

This “music of the spheres” is a very old idea, basically that the planets and universe figuratively “sing” with their interplay throughout creation. And I find a similarity there, between how I feel when I look up at the night sky and see the stars and planets, and how I feel when I hear the interplay of music.

I don’t know if you can relate to any of this, but I felt like trying to express it. I think I have not done it very well, but some things are not done much justice with words.



Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Church Songs

I have been involved in writing music now for over 30 years. It started when I was a kid, before I had even learned an instrument. I would use two cassette decks and sing my song ideas onto them. I’d sing a melody line on one, then play it back while recording on the other and add parts as I went along, back and forth, trying to piece things together.

For many of us who are caught up in this behavior of song writing, it is somewhat pathological. When a song starts humming in the mind, you either get it out or you get a little crazy. It’s hard to concentrate on other things. It’s like having a radio playing loudly in one ear while someone tries to talk to you in the other. It really is a compulsion, and it can be a good one if properly managed.

I’ve lost track of how many songs I’ve written over the years. People ask me sometimes, and I honestly have no idea. It’s in the hundreds. I’ve recorded a few things along the way, but I’ve never been very happy with the results. Some friends are helping me do some things now with new gear that has finally become financially accessible. But it’s still very, VERY challenging to produce anything even half way decent. My talent has some pretty severe limits.

Over the past fifteen years I’ve primarily written songs for use in churches. For those of you who don’t go to church, this might seem a little odd. I know when I was a kid, I thought all those songs we sang in church had always just sort of been there. Didn’t God write those songs? But the fact is that song writing for Church use is a long and honorable tradition. Artists have done it all throughout history, people like Bach and Handel, John Newton, Charles Wesley and W.C. Handy. And Hank Williams Sr.

Hank saw the light, at least for a little while, and he wrote about it. It’s what he did.

And there are moderns still writing for the Church. Contemporary artists like Phil Wickham, Chris Tomlin, the Fee brothers, Darlene Zschech and many others who are doing the best they can to tap into melodies and song structure that clicks with the contemporary heart and mind, while still communicating eternal truth. Other artists are trying to express their hearts in relationship to God, people like John Mark McMillan and Jon Foreman and David Crowder, who are great artists and very gifted musicians.

I’ve been drawn into this tradition, and I enjoy it. Especially the music for churches. There’s a great sense of accomplishment when you write something, like a prayer set to music, and you lead people with it and they learn it and take it to heart. You become a kind of Cyrano de Bergerac between people and God. It’s very different in some ways than a performance oriented approach to music, but I love it.

It’s an honor.


Psalm 33:3
Peace to you.




© LW Publishing 2011

Cash: Bootleg Vol II

Johnny Cash’s son, John, has been gathering and releasing what could be called “historical” pieces of the Johnny Cash music catalogue. Four or five years ago they released Bootleg Vol I, “Personal File,” which was two CDs worth of demo recordings, just Cash and his guitar. And now they’ve released another two CD set called “From Memphis to Hollywood.”

The shining star of the new release is Johnny’s first recorded show, which he did for radio. They think this recording was actually made by Johnny’s wife at the time, Vivian. An amazing person in her own right. It’s a rough recording in the sense that it lacks the sonic quality of modern recordings, but it really shows how, from the earliest stages, Johnny had a very personal quality in his presentation, and his voice is a bit higher too. Plus, you get to hear Johnny try to sell awnings for the “Home Equipment Company,” which is where he worked at the time. What could be better than that?

Then the CDs goes on with some demo recordings, long lost vinyl B-sides and such. One of the “rockabilly” demos called “You’re My Baby” was actually recorded and released by Roy Orbison. Cash’s demo has the line, “you’re my sugar . . . little wooly booger.” It’s just fantastic. Johnny didn’t mind getting a little goofy sometimes, even though it’s not normative of what he did. Roy chose to leave that line off when he recorded it.

I’ve seen a few people on the internet over the past few years make snide remarks about John Carter Cash (Johnny’s son) releasing this stuff. They say the same kinds of things about Rick Rubin for the posthumous recordings he’s released. It’s that tone of “they’re just doing it for the money” thing, as if releasing music for the money is something new.

Ha.

I’m thankful they take the time and effort to get these things released. Some of us are interested in the over all body of work that Johnny Cash produced: the phases he went through as a song writer and musician, as well as the stages he went through as a human being. All of these things matter when it comes to Cash. It is a big source of his popularity that he struggled through life and tried to be faithful to God in Christ while being honest with his art. He had a certain broken nobility.

If you like roots, traditional or folk music at all, you can’t miss this stuff.




Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2011

Listening Habits (c.03.2011)

Just found out that Paul Simon is releasing a new CD called “So Beautiful or So What.” There are only a few artists these days whose music I automatically buy right when they release it. Paul Simon is one of them. If he puts it out, I get it fast, I listen to it over and over again, and I spend time wondering why the rest of the world isn’t listening to it too.

Lately, for some reason, I’ve also been listening to some things I’m not exactly sure why I like. For over a year now I’ve been listening continually to this Chinese musician named “Mamer.” Peter Gabriel sent me an email telling me I’d like it, and he was right. I’m telling you, it’s great, great stuff. I have no idea what the guy is saying, his words are just part of the music to me, but the music is amazing.

Then there’s this “band” called “Owl City,” which is actually a guy named Adam Young. It’s overly processed on purpose, electronic stuff, which I usually can't stand. I didn’t much like Kraftwerk when they started all that stuff, and I’m hard pressed to enjoy much of that kind of music. But Owl City is a very fun bubble gum version of that, with really strong pop sensibilities, and it makes me feel good when I listen to it. Also, the imagery the guy uses in his lyrics is interesting. I heard he started by recording things at his house. Like I do.

For the most part I prefer more organic music. Less processed. I get excited about music that is carefully crafted, especially with real instruments played by gifted musicians. And if it has masterful lyric writing, well, that’s even better. Which brings me back to...

Paul Simon is a unique piece of work. He has no excuse being a pop star, but there he is. Stubby little genius with the odd, slightly warbly voice. If someone said, “You could write lyrics as good as Paul Simon but I’d have to take your left knee cap,” I’d have to spend some serious time talking myself out of it.

Some things are worth a limp.




Genesis 32:22-32
Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Kitsch Me Baby One More Time

It makes me sad sometimes when I see someone apologizing for something they like because it isn’t cool or hip to like it. Just watch some people backtrack when they say they like a movie, and then someone else starts attacking, explaining why it was terrible. It’s easy to feel ashamed of liking something when others think it’s horrible or stupid. We think that means we’re stupid, because we like it, I supposed. But that’s a pile of nonsense.

I, myself, have always been inextricably drawn to some of the worst kinds of art and popular culture imaginable. And I am NOT sorry about it. It’s part of what makes me me.

Hey, I know good movies when I see them. Usually, anyway. I have spent time learning to understand the art of cinema. And I’ve read a lot of the classics. I’ve got a good sense of what makes for great music. For the most part, I can recognize the good stuff. I just don’t always know the bad stuff. In fact, a lot of the “bad” stuff just isn’t bad to me. I happen to like it.

I can watch Citizen Kane or Lawrence of Arabia or Sunrise, and enjoy every second. Then I can watch Teenagers From Outer Space or Invaders From Mars and enjoy every second. I can read masterpiece novels and enjoy every word, then immediately read some cheesy sci-fi hack piece and enjoy every word. I’ve always liked kitschy things, as far back as I can remember. Gumby and Gilligan’s Island and the Ghoul. I liked ALL of the Planet of the Apes movies. Elevator music. Donny and Marie. I even liked Elvis at his most Vegasy..

I think it’s not good that some people don’t appreciate higher or more complex forms of art simply because they don’t want to put in the effort it takes to understand and appreciate it. It’s a great loss. But it’s also not good to look down on other things simply because they lack a certain finesse, or they don’t measure up to something else.

It’s not that I don’t think there are bad novels or movies or music. I can't stand certain things. But sometimes we like things and it doesn't matter that it's bad. What makes something “bad” to me is not that it’s made cheaply or that it’s stupid or cheesy. Sometimes it's "bad" simply because it's corrupt. Or preachy. Or obvious. Or manipulative. Or who knows what. My first reaction to a lot of things is simply an emotional one. Some things click with me, while others don’t, and I don’t always know why. Do you?

If I like it, maybe it’s because it reminds me of something my mind has forgotten but my heart needs to remember. Maybe it makes me think. Maybe it taps me into feelings of childhood. Maybe I’m moved by the artistry of some things, the innocence of others, and perhaps the audacity of others, or perhaps it makes me feel like someone out there understands me. Maybe it’s all of those things and more.

Maybe I just like it...


Peace to you.




© LW Publishing 2011

I Don't Like Mondays Either

So. You ever have one of THOSE days?

Yesterday was a Monday. It was horrible. I was tired all day, feeling down and restless. My mind was wandering all over the place. Erratic.

I tried to work on some music, to distract me from myself, but everything went wrong. Everything. Something happened that messed up all the files, literally ruined the mixes of all the songs I’ve been working on for over a year. It was madness. I was starting to panic and I had no idea what to do.

So I did what I do when I don’t know what to do.

I prayed.

Then I called my friend Tom.

Tom fixed my songs. Tom was patient with me. Tom was kind. It took a lot of time that I know he doesn’t really have. It was sacrificial. An act of grace.

He’s just that kind of guy.

I don’t know what I’d do without friends like Tom. I have some others like him too, who give and give to get me through. I don’t deserve them. I know it. I feel bad because there’s no way I’m as good a friend to any of them. I just do what I can and hope it’s enough. And remain thankful for my friends, who get me through.

Good friends do that, I guess. They get you through Mondays.

Let me just say: Thank you. You know who you are. All of you who help me get through Mondays, whatever day of the week they happen to happen.

Thank you.



Proverbs 17:17
Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2010

Honest Christmas Carols

In keeping with the Scrooge mind-set I struggle with on occasion, I’m thinking of starting a new trend. You could call it “honest Christmas carols.” Perhaps you could think up a few too. See if you can figure out the melodies. They would go something like this:

I’ll have a bland Christmas with or without you
It’ll be so bland just doing what we always do
Decorations and food
Bought with money galore
It’s always the same dear
But we keep buying more

Or the should-be-a-perennial-classic:

Dashing through the snow
In a beat up Chevrolet
Through the slush we go
Sliding all the way
Horns are ‘bout to ring
Making people fight
Everybody’s going crazy
It just isn’t right
(sigh)
Push and shove
Push and shove
Your way to Christmas day
Hey, that parking spot is mine
So, get out of my way   hey!
Push and shove
Push and shove
Your way to Christmas day
Hey, that shopping cart is mine
So get out of my way!

And then there’s the simple but meaningful:

I want to wish you a nondescript holiday experience
I want to wish you a nondescript holiday experience
I want to wish you a nondescript holiday experience
From the bottom of my politically correct hearrrrrrrrrrrt!

Okay. I’ll go back to being merry and bright now.

Maybe.


Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2010

Distracted

I’ve read that author Stephen King listens to heavy metal music while writing in the morning. Why is that not surprising?

Sometimes, I listen to music while I do other things.

But it occurred to me that most people would says something like this: “I listen to music while I work around the house.” For me, it’s more like this: “I work around the house while I listen to music.” I know they seem kind of like the same thing, but they aren’t.

When I listen to music, I listen to it. In fact, I have a really hard time not listening to it. It is a genuinely compulsive response. If I’m driving somewhere with people and they have music on in the car, then I can have a hard time keeping up with the conversation because I’m listening to the music. And I’m not sure how they are managing to not listen to the music.

When music is playing, I’m compelled to listen to it, which makes it hard to focus on other things. So while I’m doing things that take very little thought, like driving or working in the yard, I like to listen to music because I can really listen to it. But if I’m doing something that actually takes some thought, like my work, or reading, or talking to people, I can’t stand hearing music in the background because I’m not supposed to be listening to it, and it becomes a major distraction for me.

Imagine you love chocolate cake. It’s your favorite dessert. And while you’re having a conversation with someone, they have a freshly made chocolate cake suspended with wires between the two of you as you talk. You have to look over it slightly to see the face of the other person. It’s still slightly warm, so the aroma is floating in the air. And the frosting is just perfect. You haven’t had any chocolate cake in a long time. In fact, you missed dinner, so you’re really hungry anyway. And there is this cake, right in front of your face, while they try to talk to you about something important. You feel guilty, because you’re trying to listen, but you can’t help it. You are distracted by the cake.

Your cake is like music to my ears.

I want to pay attention. I want to listen. I want to focus on the people around me. I want to have empathy for people and really understand them. But, for me, that can be challenging sometimes. And it’s not just the music. It’s life. The wants and needs of one person can distract us from the wants and needs of another. The needs of one child can keep you from seeing the needs of another. Our own wants and needs get in the way too. Good things can keep us from seeing other good things.

I have no resolution for this.



Proverbs 4:20-22
Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2010

Jouir de la Musique

Hearing the keyboard player hitting blue chords with his right hand, hammering with his thumb and pinky. Left hand walks. Or Chick flowing on the keys like a cool stream in the desert.

The words, flowing from the likes of Chris Martin and Jack Johnson, from Sting, from Paul Simon and Jackson Browne, from Dylan.

How do we account for Bob Dylan or the soul in the deep rumble of Johnny Cash or the gliss and light of Stevie Wonder or the genius of Ray Charles? Louis Armstrong and Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday are unexplainable. Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra and Thelonious Monk, stepping from one to the other around brilliant corners.

From Stanley Jordan to Geddy Lee to John Patitucci, almost underground, laying tracks for the trains to ride. Stevie Ray Vaughn eating his strings, pulling life out of them. Hendrix and Clapton and B.B. King, Van Halen, and Johnny Lang and Satriani, their picks and fingers like butterfly wings grazing the strings, ringing. Elvis Costello, singing his vibrato, shaping his phrasing, aiming true, or the Elvis Brothers stomping the downbeat all over the stage, trying to touch a piece of what made that boy from Memphis sing like he did.

Pat Boone did his best, but, you know: “hold it fellas, that don’t move me,” like Elvis Presley looking to get real real gone for a change.

Lock into the pocket of Weckyl and Kunkel and Colaiuta. Pop.

Hey. Hey. Hey. I may know what’s happening here. If not knowledge, then feel. I feel it...

I feel the band, playing behind me, falling right on the beat, rock solid, right in line, giving me a notion that the world has some sense to it. Oh, the big E chord ringing out, shouting at the world.

I feel the right phonemes, piecing together the right words in the right sentences, with the phrasing exactly as it somehow should be. I feel the contrary motion, the harmonic lines, making peace with the melody in a weary world. The feel of guitar strings under my fingers, resisting enough to sing. The back beat strikes and pulls back, strikes again, through my heart.

There’s something about the first chord of a song. Finding it. Playing it. Using it to get to the next chord and the first word that leads to the rest until an idea is formed, certain syllables rolling off the tongue, attached to other, just right, certain syllables, shaped into words and phrases, resting on patterns and changes that carry not just ideas, but emotion.

It's like puzzle pieces, falling into place.
It's like tasting destiny.
It's like knowing the answer to an obscure and cryptic question.
It's like being just where you should be. When you should be. And knowing it.




Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2010

No Nonsense

Hey diddly high diddly high dee high dee hoooooooo.

Sha na na na na sha na na na na.

Oooooooooooweeeeeeoooooo.

I happened to notice the other day, for no particular reason, that in all of my song writing, I don’t think I have ever used nonsense syllables. I have written a lot of songs over the years. I couldn’t even tell you how many anymore. But, for some reason, I have not engaged in the common practice of nonsense syllables. I have never zip a dee doo dah’d. I have never bop sha bop’d or sh’boom’d on one of my songs.

Could there be something wrong with me?

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with nonsense syllables. Where would Doo Wop have been without the Doo or the Wop? The Beatles would have never koo koo ka choo’d. The Beach Boys would have had a lot less to say in the parking lot. And I don’t know how many singers and song writers still na na na and la la la their way through song after song.

But these things are conspicuously absent from my music, and I don’t know why. I have no idea. And I had not noticed until recently that it was the case. And I don’t know what to think about it. So I thought I’d just share it here, because what else do you do with such observations?

It all makes me wonder, who really did put the dip in the dip da dip da dip? Perhaps they could tutor me or something.


Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2010

Small Talk (Circa 07.18.2010)

The other night the better half and myself watched Cirque Du Soleil’s “Quidam” with our kids on DVD. If you aren’t familiar with Cirque, you should try to see them sometime. It’s a circus that was started by some French Canadians in Quebec, and has since become a worldwide thing. The songs are in mixed languages, sometimes with words completely made up, as the “story” of the show is conveyed more through pantomime, imagery and movement than concrete thoughts. The composers seem more interested in the sounds of the words than the meanings of the words. You will hear English, French, German, etc., sometimes all in a single sentence. But it doesn’t keep you from enjoying it at all. It’s kind of just the flavor of Cirque. My wife and I saw a live performance of their show “Mystere” around ten years ago and it was amazing.

Quidam was pretty cool, with the usual mix of acrobatic circus acts, performance art and music. For some reason it made me feel like I was watching a Jim Henson movie, like Labyrinth or The Dark Crystal. But our movie night with Quidam led to a short conversation the next day with two of my kids. It went something like this...

6 Year Old: Dad, can we watch the circus again? What’s it called?

Me: You mean Quidam?

6 Year Old: Can we watch it again?

8 Year Old: If we do, I’m going upstairs!

Me: Why would you go upstairs?

8 Year Old: Because it was freaky!

Me: It’s just a circus. It’s meant to be different to keep it interesting.

6 Year Old: Yeah! And it teaches you to speak Chinese!

Me: Well, yes, I hadn’t thought about that aspect of it, but learning Chinese is certainly a plus.

8 Year Old: But it was freaky!

Experimental mosaic by Greek Artist Charis Tevis,
inspired by Cirque Du Soleil.
You can see some of his work on Flikr.

Peace to you.





© LW Publishing 2010