a coherent collection of random statements regarding God, words and tunes

Here're a few questions for y'all....

And by "y'all," I mean "Y'ALL."

Which I suppose requires further elucidation anyway:

1) Despite the impending questions' ostensibly Christian trappings, I welcome responses from anyone who wants to answer these, regardless of faith or the lack thereof (yes, I'm looking at YOU, byrnes -- although "God doesn't exist and therefore these are pointless questions" probably isn't worth yr time to type ).

Speaking of which, I may regret this, but in the spirit of #1,

2) If you want to chime in on this one, Deacon Jim, y'r more than welcome to. The full spectrum IS the full spectrum. But first attack or sideways comment about anyone else's answer and y'r toast.

And thus, for #2 particularly but it applies to everyone, after all,

3) Speak yr peace, let everyone else have theirs, and we'll all get along fine on this one. If something someone says inspires something else, fine, but the key word here is "inspires." Note, I didn't say "provokes."

Anyway, I'll probably compile everyone's answers into a separate post when the time comes and/or if I get enough comments to warrant it. Otherwise I'll just leave them to the left-side gutter and those interested can check them there. But here's hoping.

SO, here's a little of the back story first: There's been a lot of talk out (t)here in Ministryland lately (particularly in the recent Willow Creek survey/book REVEAL) regarding how The Church helps people to experience God. And indications from said survey are: When people come to church, most don't experience God.

And in my particular sector of Ministryland, there's been quite the fluster about this. I have my own thoughts/answers, which I'm going to withhold for the time being (and possibly beyond), but I want to put this out there for y'all, and/or to figure out if I'm just freaking crazy:

1) How do you, personally, experience God (or at least a sense of something "beyond yourself")?

2) For you remnant who still inhabit a church regularly: DO you experience God there? How? With what regularity?

3) What, if anything, do you think can or should be done so that church becomes (more of?) a place where people DO experience God?

I'll wait.

Thanks in advance for your input.

Posted by: burninglight at 23:03 | link | comments (4)

Seventh time’s the charm…. or so it sounds….

Back to tuneage. And we's gonna have some fun today, kidlings....

**********

Steve Earle’s had quite the life. Probably not the type you’d want, but quite the life nonetheless. Go look it up, but suffice to say it includes six marriages, a crapload of addictions, and an impressive criminal record. Basically, in the race for Most Talented Folk-Rocker Who Really Ought to Be Dead By Now, there's Steve, David Crosby, and no-one else even close. (And FWIW and less-than-coincidentally, they’re both also neck-and-neck in the Pretty Folk-Rocker Who Got Really Prematurely Old and Oogy competition as well -- look at Steve even five years ago, then look at the back of Washington Street Serenade. Wow. Which makes the fact that he scored Allison Moorer as Wife #7 a couple years ago that much more impressive. But that’s getting ahead of our story…)

One little thing, though: Post-rehab (about a dozen years strong now), there’s only a handful of songwriters who can touch Steve’s catalog. All (or at least much) of that self-destructive hubris was channeled into the albums rather than back at himself, in increasingly brilliant fashion. I Feel Alright was declaration of just that – an artist reborn, but just getting re-started. With Mi Corazon came the first of three albums that pinned you to the wall and didn’t let go until they were done with you. Transcendental Blues continued that trend, and it’s a toss-up between the two which was his best album to date.

At least until Jerusalem. Let’s just say that Steve was more than a little upset at our response to 9/11 (in that it clearly became less about righting a wrong and more about that nation-building we were promised back in 2000 [pre-election, of course] would never happen). The result was a fiery masterwork that still resides on my Top 10 list for this decade thus far. The title song is an impassioned plea for peace (“But I believe there'll come a day when the lion and the lamb / Will lie down in peace together in Jerusalem”) which nonetheless doesn’t overlook the irony of where and who are responsible right now (“I woke up this mornin' and none of the news was good / And death machines were rumblin' 'cross the ground where Jesus stood… / Well maybe I'm only dreamin' and maybe I'm just a fool / But I don't remember learnin' how to hate in Sunday school.”). The eery “Conspiracy Theory” suggested that maybe we SHOULD be paranoid about what’s going on around us: “What if I said you were only dreamin' / What you wanna bet that all you gotta do / Is open up your eyes and you will wake up screamin'  / When you realize that it's all come true.” Given the ramped-up dismantling of the Constitution in recent years, one might even call this (and a whole lot more here) downright prophetic.

Then there was (ahem) THE song that got the most press, “John Walker’s Blues,” re: the American Taliban. While being called a traitor for choosing not to scapegoat its subject, neither does Steve make a hero out of him, as was suggested by a whoooole lot of ignorant people. Instead, it takes a long, hard look and says, “yeah, I see how this could’ve happened": "I'm just an American boy, raised on MTV / And I've seen all those kids in the soda pop ads, but none of 'em looked like me / So I started lookin' around, for a light out of the dim / And the first thing I heard that made sense was the word of Mohammed, peace be upon him.” It’s chilling but dead-on.

The live album of that tour, of COURSE called Just an American Boy (never say Steve doesn’t share some of the responsibility for stirring his own pot), takes the political edge out even further, but doesn’t quite cross cross the line into sloganeering. Plus, it has some great performances of both old and new material – the guitar blasts in “Copperhead Road” will get the hairs on yr neck standing; the quiet death-penalty songs “Billy Austin” and “Over Yonder (Jonathan’s Song)” will make you cry AND think; and “What’s So Funny About Peace, Love and Understanding” as a closer was just the right touch. Not to mention the rant that directly precedes it, “Remember: It is never, EVER, unpatriotic – or un-American -- to question any f---ing thing in a DEMOCRACY." Enough said.

Unfortunately, Steve disagreed that enough had been said, and rushed out his next album The Revolution Starts… Now in time for the 2004 election (gee, that worked well on every possible front), wherein songcraft, passion, and just plain right-mindedness were sacrificed for sloganeering, general pissed-off-ness, and perhaps most surprisingly, some good-old-fashioned liberal smugness. That’s the only rationale *I* can come up with for the Tex-Mex come-on song, “Condi, Condi” (and yes, it’s about who you think it’s about), anyway. That’s really all I have to say about it, except that I was willing to chalk it up as a stupid misstep and hope he got back on track next time.

 We’d have to wait three years to find out. In the interim, Steve got re-married (yes, again, but arguably standing up straight at the altar for the first time), and moved from Tennessee to the heart of Greenwich Village. And the initial result is Washington Square Serenade.

So, Steve’s mellower and happier. And good for him. Although, as byrnes recently mentioned here, that doesn’t always make for great music. (Although again, it’s worth noting that the vast majority of Steve’s great music came POST-rehab. So I’d argue that it’s more a question of passion than messed-upness. Granted, it’s harder to maintain an edge when y’r happy.)

Bottom line: The passion here is fueled (mostly) by love rather than anger. Therefore, if you can deal with listening to someone who’s happy and wants YOU to know it, dammit (because, after all, this IS still Steve Earle, people), you’ll be fine here. It’s not on the level of Mi Corazon-Jerusalem, but it stands with I Feel Alright just fine – and arguably has even more in common with his 1999 excursion with The Del McCoury Band, The Mountain, given its general feel.

Also, this is one of those every-once-in-a-while albums where the official track sequence hinders one’s access to the treasures within. (R.E.M.’s Automatic for the People comes immediately to mind.) This one isn’t as guilty as Automatic, but it suffers at first listen for some of the same reasons: The second half of this album is SO much stronger than its more “experimental” first half. Not that the first half’s bad, but there’s a point where you finally start feeling “at home” here, and the official sequence delays that moment significantly. Also, the final song here, while great, seems totally incongruous to the rest of the album where it’s at right now (especially when there’s a much better song to close this with).

So I did a little rearranging with the final three songs here, and it’s definitely maximized my listening experience. You don’t have to do this, but heck, give it a try and tell me I’m wrong. In fact, I’m gonna run through this in my order rather than Steve’s.

“Tennessee Blues,” is a wistful last look back at the place that was his home for so many years, going as far as to give a nod to the past music produced there as well. He’s grateful, but moving on, and looking forward to his new life, and he makes it hard to blame him: “Cross the mighty Hudson river to the New York City side / Redhead by my side, boys, sweetest thing I`ve found / Goodbye, Guitar Town.”

“Down Here Below” continues the tribute to his new home and is downright Bruce Cockburn-like in the process, given its terse acoustic and extended spoken-word intro (I actually checked the credits the first time I heard it), before giving way to a simple, pretty melody (and some equally pretty backups from Allison), yet not lacking for a proletarian undercurrent:

Pale male swimmin' in the air
Looks like he' s in heaven up there
People sufferin'  everywhere
But he don' t care

But life goes on
Down here below
And all us mortals struggle so….

Nice banjo bridge during that “pale male” bridge above, too. It’s also worth mentioning that Steve’s in fine voice here and elsewhere, and a fine voice it is. He's not the obvious successor to Johnny Cash's musical mantle for nothin', people.

Anyway, here’s my first change: The cover of Tom Waits’ wonderfully twisted gospel tune, “Way Down in the Hole.” I don’t know why it’s the closer here, so now it isn’t. It adds a heaviness to the first half of this album that’s sometimes lacking, particularly in the two “singles” that follow: the catchy syncopated tribute (not least of all to another new gig he’s got) “Satellite Radio,” and the sweet and breezy (yet surprisingly trite) tribute to his new home “City of Immigrants.” “All of us are immigrants” -- well, DUH. I realize that's not DUH to a shockingly large amount of shockingly ignorant people, but DUH. I’m sure the public-radio crowd will clap along on each other's backs and eat this thing up, though. (There: Did I offend enough sectors of the population with that? )

So now we get to the OTHER big theme of the album: Steve in Love. And again, while yes, these ARE love songs, there’s nothing silly about them. They’re just simple, from-the-heart songs, and they work great. “Sparkle and Shine” is about his baby, and that’s all you really need to know. Don’t mess with Steve’s baby.

Steve better not mess with his baby either, judging from the somber “Come Home to Me”:

Thought I'd survive but I was wrong….
Just as soon as you were out that door
I remembered what my life was like before
Now nothin's gonna be the same again
'Cause I'm lonelier than I was then…
The door’s unlocked
The light is on
Baby, baby, baby, please come home to me.

After this, we finally get back to the Steve Earle we’ve all come to know and love. The dark, shuffling “Jericho Road” reminds us that even when things are going well there’s a whole lot more travelin’ to do:

I met my father walkin' down the Jericho road
His back bent over from a heavy load
And he was walkin`down the Jericho road
I said "papa, don`t you know me? Won't you lay your burden down?"
He just shook his head and told me "Son, you better turn around"…

I met my sister walkin' down the Jericho road
With a babe in her arms that I'd never seen
And she was walkin' down the Jericho road
She said "it's just a little orphan child I found along the way
I'll raise him as my own and he'll forgive us all someday"
And she kept on walkin'
Walkin' down the Jericho road…

The slow but relentless, banjo-driven “Oxycontin Blues” takes the darkness up a notch from the get-go: “Well my daddy worked in the coal mine / 'Til the company shut it down / Then he sat around and drank hisself blind / 'Til we put him back underground.” Put that together with the title and you know exactly where it’s all headed. Try not to blink.

“Red Is the Color” takes that slow folk darkness, slows it down even more, and lays a ton of distorted harmonica over the top of it. Draw your own conclusions on the following: “Make way for his majesty the prodigal king / Still taste the poison when you're kissin' the ring / Don't say he never gave you anything.” I’m not saying I know either; I’m just saying there’s educated guesses to be had.

His "official" duet with Allison, "Days Are Never Long Enough," remains the penultimate song of the album; it’s just that I had to skip one more to get here. It’s a pretty yet suitably strong love song to one another, and a commitment to see this thing through:

Four more seasons on parade
Show their colors then they fade
But that won't happen to us, darlin'
We'll remember how it was,
Then begin again, because
Days are never long enough.

The original track 10 is now the ending. “Steve’s Hammer (for Pete)” is a stomping commitment of a different kind – the old-fashioned commitment to “three chords and the truth” (even though that’s Woody and not Pete, it’s still appropriate), complete with the “Downtown Proletarian Choir” chiming along in the background. It HAS to end this album (so why didn’t it?):

One of these days I'm gonna lay this hammer down
And I won't have to drag this weight around
When there ain't no hunger
And there ain't no pain
Then I won't have to swing this thing
One of these days I'm gonna lay this hammer down…

One of these days I'm gonna lay this hammer down
Leave my burden restin' on the ground
When the air don't choke ya and the ocean's clean
And kids don't die for gasoline
One of these days I'm gonna lay this hammer down…

Keep those promises, Steve. And thank you for getting back to swingin’ that hammer righteously.

**********

But wait, there’s more…

And here’s the bonus review, which sounds absolutely nothing like Steve Earle and isn’t even a new album, but it’s new to me and probably to you too. Plus, it’ll score pretty high on my Top 10 Discoveries of 2007 list, so here ‘tis.

First, a very brief history lesson: I saw the California psychedelic-pop band The Three O’Clock warm up for R.E.M. (them again?) back at the Capital Theatre in Passaic, NJ 20+ years ago (note to self: stop dating self). I thought they sucked. End of story. Until now.

Via emusic, I stumbled across a great sample tune that sounded like Matthew Sweet in his prime (which for me is Altered Beast – sorry, you masses of Girlfriend peoples, but while that was an excellent album too, it also had holes you could drive a truck through), so I took the plunge. The rest was every bit as good, and as I studied the lineage of said front man Michael Quercio, turns out it traces directly back to the aforementioned Three O’Clock, and that basically this was the creative half that didn’t become the big-sounding and Beatlesque Jellyfish – as always, you can visit Tuesday Morning 3 a.m. for more details on that. But as I like a little more dissonance in my power pop (see again Mssrs. Sweet, Rick Altizer, and Adrian Belew, then throw in XTC, Big Star, and heck, why not? Daniel Amos, to get my flavoring a little more exact), this one’s more down my particular alley.

So did said members of Three O’Clock grow up? Did I grow up? Or was the original band simply a studio production that didn’t translate live? Probably all three, but I’m betting most heavily on #3. You make the call, if you care to find out. I know I’m gonna go back in and get the answers. Cover me.

 And oh yeah, back to business: THIS album is The Restoration of Culture After Genghis Khan, by Jupiter Affect (2003). And it’s so peachy-keen I can barely stand it. Take said Mr. Sweet again, replace his Robert Quine (or, for you CCMers, take Mr. Altizer and replace Mr. Belew) with Lenny Kravitz, and you’re getting really close to what’s here.

After a brief feedback-laden-with-the-occasional-dissonant-horn intro “Ceremony” comes the place where you’ll know whether this album’s for you (again, go for the free Dionysus sampler download on eMusic and test-run that puppy), the rocking psych-pop of “Genghis Khan Blues Theme.” Sweet, Sweet, Sweet. And of course, another horn popping up on occasion to add just the right touch. Crank this puppy UP.

But it’s not all guitars and bopping. (A LOT. Just not ALL. ) With “Do You Remember?” Quercio shows you he can also handle big, bittersweet pop (see also “Devil With the Green Eyes” – OK, enough Matthew Sweet comparisons. It’s easier to veer away after this anyway.) “Hymn of the Steppes” ups the Lenny Kravitz factor, what with the big heavy-funky guitar. It’s arguably the low point of the album, but you won’t mind it.

Next comes the album’s epic, “The Leader of All Tribes Living in Felt Tents.” (Just wait – the titles get even better.) Pick up wherever you want to – the verse intros that for reasons I can’t quite fathom remind me of Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne,” the bridge that sounds like Man Who Sold the World-era Bowie having a knife fight with Weezer, the electronic bridge that doesn’t quite sound like anything I can identify, the alternately baroque and stomping reprise of the chorus. OhYEAHit’sahoot. You betcha.

I don’t know what “Attack of the Hair People” is about, but it sure is fun. Did I mention crank it UP? (Great drums throughout this album, by the way.) “You Are Wise in Your Conceit, O Beautiful Woman of the Tartars” (TOLD you), starts off almost jazzy and inevitably turns gorgeous, then actually loosens up the strings and jams for a while. And c’mon, rhyming “Tartars” with “Far-MARS”? OK, it fits perfectly here. It’s that kind of album.

The lovely intro “Song Dynasty Requiem” gives way to a riff Status Quo would have killed for (after which Teenage Fanclub would have killed them, and so the cycle goes….), and there we are in “Atop a Greying Sky.” Again, nice interplay between the acoustic and the electric here. Our Lenny Kravitz substitute jumps back on stage for the bopping “Damascus Rose,” and to better effect. “Above the Ground” goes minor-key on us, then pounds away at us for almost five more minutes, while giving us the line that probably sums this thing up best: “It’s a cavalcade of sound / That makes the world go round.”

Then back to another big-time Status Quo riff for the big ending, “Genghis Khan Love Theme,” with its suitably ‘60s proclamation, “Love is the answer to all I know and see.” Three Dog Night-like organs team up with Lenny to beat you senseless, before dropping down into a pretty acoustic interlude, before once more commencing the beatings shortly thereafter. And don’t spare the strings – this is a BIG ending.

As always, a good time is had by all.

Until next time....

Posted by: burninglight at 19:02 | link | comments