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

Some Things Speak for Themselves

Although I'll likely speak more of it later, or at least after the fact.... http://www.fowlertribune.com/news/x108141316/Reunion-is-25-years-in-the-making

For now: Hoo-hah.

Update: We're still all processing, but in the meantime: http://www.fowlertribune.com/entertainment/x1931068079/Reunion-concert-rocks-Fowler

Posted by: burninglight at 00:48 | link | comments (6)

A Tale of Two Books

Although I've mentioned various books I've read here from time to time, I'm pretty sure I haven't taken the time to review any of them here to any degree. But a couple new ones I picked up recently have dovetailed neatly together to blow my mind - one set me up, and the other knocked me down. Or, one knocked me down and other picked me back up. I'm still trying to figure it out.

Anyway, a few words (for me, at least), if I may....

Skye Jethani -- The Divine Commodity. For the uninitiated, Skye's managing editor for Leadership magazine, as well as the bloginator for the reasonably well-known Our of Ur (and, as it turns out, an Alliance guy, so I have a soft spot for him there too). This is his first book, and in it he uses Vincent Van Gogh as a fixed reference point to tear the modern American church a new one. Trust me, it works. (If y'r not familiar with Vinnie's bio, it's worth recollecting that he was a missionary before he became the world's most successful unsuccessful artist. Thus, Vinnie's theology gets a significant amount of play here, especially as it affects his art and the symbolism within.)

Anyway, Skye's stated appeal here is to bring the imagination -- and especially a sense of wonder - back into the church. And how the commoditization - or the Disneyfication, if you will (and I'll coin whatever I danged well want) -- of the church has largely destroyed sense of imagination and wonder. (Dang, T-Bone Burnett's "Hefney and Disney" was a good 25 years ahead of the curve on that one -- and one should well recall that T-Bone's grandfather was general secretary for the Southern Baptist Convention.)

Anyway-er, for me that cut both ways. Emphasis on "cut." My copy of the book's out on loan right now, for reasons that will be revealed soon enough, so I may come back and add to this later. But for now let me say that I find a lot of his accusations dead-on. There's a lot of talk about the use of "branding" here, and how that has not only seeped but become a full-blown flood in the church today. Chapter 3, where this is dealt with most explicitly, actually made me feel physically sick at times.

This conflictedness only got worse as I went on. Particularly as Skye launched into his invective about how much of the modern church -- or at least its best-known sectors -- have become preoccupied with "creating an experience." Megachurches are an easy target, and he takes his fair share of shots at them, but he doesn't hesitate to point out that the emerging church (and smaller churches copying certain popular "growth models," for that matter) is largely just as guilty and only gets off easier because it appeals to a smaller (yet no less targeted) market share.

OK, so let's come back to where this hurt personally. I work at a place where "experience" is a HUGE word. And in fact I think Skye's sense of imagination wouldn't object to and would probably very much advocate experiential learning (our very deliberately stated objective - and one I go out of my way to focus on in my own stuff). When Skye returns my e-mail, we'll know for sure.

That said, we HAVE often been guilty of trying to "create an experience" here. I know of projects right now entirely dedicated to that, in fact (and am thankful to not be involved with them). It doesn't help that Skye actually calls out one of our existing (albeit older) products by name.

Hopefully the above is evidence that, as Billy Martin used to say, I feel very strongly BOTH ways. Thus, I felt compelled to circulate this book at the executive level. While the jury's still out (it's still being read), the reactions so far have been both somewhat predictable and to an equal degree discouraging. And to the degree my suspicions turn out right, that's a shame.

That doesn't mean that Skye gets everything right here. Like the emergents he sometimes takes on here (and dialogues with to a much greater extent on Out of Ur), Skye's long on well-placed criticisms but a bit short on solutions. I won't give away the epilogue, besides saying 1) he nicely brings the book full-circle with it, and 2) I really wish he had brought more of that sensibility and attitude into the rest of the book, rather than pounding away at the problems, however justifiably and pointedly.

Nonetheless, even though it's way more arrows than healing balm, these are well-shot arrows. I came away both convinced and convicted. And wanting to do something about it. But WHAT?

And thus, The Divine Commodity only set the table. I needed the next book to deliver the meal. More than a little literally.

Christopher L. Heuertz -- Simple Spirituality. Forgive the ho-hum-how-many-more-books-can-we-TITLE-like-this-anyway-FCOL? title. And because of that, it didn't look that appealing when we picked it up at NPC, either. Nonetheless, Marion insisted we buy it for Amy because it's got an intro from Shane Claiborne. And as you may have already noticed, Shane has a lot of street cred in our house. (We even got him to sign Jesus for President while we were there, so we could give it to Amy for her 18th birthday.)

Anyway, Amy hasn't read this book yet, but now I have. And suffice to say, while the common adage around here is "Amy is her father's daughter," it's probably worth remembering that the reverse is true, too. I.e., I'm my daughter's father. In short, in God's twisted sense of humor, we probably DID really buy this one for me.

Basically, this book would be in near-complete agreement with The Divine Commodity, but it takes the exact opposite approach in addressing the problems. The criticisms, while occasionally underlying, are replaced by many, many stories of the author's visits to the "Majority World" (nice turning of the term "Third World" on it ear) countries, and his extensive work with his organization Word Made Flesh, which serves the poorest of the poor worldwide.

As Christopher Heuertz tells his stories, there's very little altruistic or noble in the accounts. Over and over, you see someone who's broken by what he sees - and who never gets used to the suffering he encounters -- and yet presses on, finding his own salvation in it. As he quotes Mother Teresa (whom both him & Shane had the opportunity to work side-by-side with at Nirmal Hriday), "The poor give us much more than we give them. They're such strong people, living day to day with no food. and they never curse, never complain. We don't have to give them pity or sympathy. We have so much to learn from them." This book brings that message home over and over.

Another quote of Mother Teresa's (in Shane's intro) sets the tone early on, "It is very fashionable to talk about the poor. Unfortunately it is not as fashionable to talk to the poor." This book is filled with that "talking to." In fact, despite the considerable work being done, more times than not we see more examples of the poor sharing their meals (if not giving them away) to Christopher than the reverse. And it never fails to devastate each time I read it.

And while the mission is toward the poor, it starts with the self. The overall structure of the book in fact revolves around five "simple" disciplines: Humility, Community, Simplicity, Submission, and Brokenness. And if you've already surmised that simple isn't easy, you're on the right track. This book reduced me to human rubble on a number of occasions. And hopefully that rubble can be used to build something better.

And again, this all has to start on a personal level before one can truly be of any greater use. And thus, the toughest part of all to read (but hopefully it will be obvious why I choose to reprint it openly on a personal blog) was this:

 "I would say that I'm a fairly transparent person. Ask me just about anything you want and I typically have no problem opening up the tender parts of my heart... But transparency isn't vulnerability...

For me, being vulnerable is much more difficult than being transparent. I have a hard time exposing the parts of me that can be wounded. Sure, I can share my feelings with someone, but it's tough for me to trust people with my feelings. It's not easy for me to put my needs out there and give someone a chance to reject them. And so what I usually do is work toward transparency as a distraction from my lack of vulnerability.

There's no submission in that. Submission is giving up oneself to the power of another; transparency isn't an act of submission so much as it is a preemptive strike - a self-protecting attempt to keep people at a safe distance. Transparency in this way becomes an attempt to protect and control. Submission is a celebration not of insipid acquiescence but of confident surrender. Submission is an opportunity to affirm our deep trust in God by allowing God to be in control as we resist the urge to assert ourselves as God."

Crap. (And not as in "That's a load of...." either.)

It can be easy to read all this and walk away. I don't want to do that. I think I have an idea where to go with this now. I don't want to get ahead of myself just yet, but I think things will begin unfolding big-time in the next month or so.

And I LOVE the way next month will start out. Although you've already gotten context clues on that, more to come soon. And perchance, some more music talk before then.

But right now, I'm feeling like the jerk from Jersey who couldn't wait to go on men's retreat (even though I'm heading away from the mountains this time around). I know that's not enough context, but it's enough to say that there's a HUGE sense of anticipation. And that's it's not just about recreating great music with old friends. Although I am (to employ a Dr. Cox-ism) re-he-HE-he-HEEEEEEEEEEALLY looking forward to that, too.

Posted by: burninglight at 20:31 | link | comments

These three albums have very little in common.

I know, a more prosaic title than normal, but that's about my energy level right now. Literally an hour before I left for the trip detailed in the last e-mail, I was informed that I had to make another trip the following week, to interview a fairly well-known figure for a study and event kit we're writing around his latest book. (Hint: He's a recently retired football coach who was very gracious and well-spoken, and indeed exhibited the quiet strength he's known for.)

Still it's time to update, so two promised reviews and one I didn't promise but I want to throw in 'cause I find it so spiffy (and 'cause I'm on a major roll with these guys right now, which should tip you off a bit up front)....

So, let's start with the new and slightly disappointing one, and work our way backwards in time and upwards in quality....

Robyn Hitchcock and the Venus 3 -- Goodnight Oslo. There's really only two things you need to know about this follow-up to Ole Tarantula (again with the backing of Peter Buck and two other part-time R.E.M.ers): 1) It's Robyn Hitchcock. 2) Every interview I've read suggests he's in creative transition right now.

Which is also to say, ergo: 1) You gotta like Robyn for being Robyn. 2) Transition albums, while they often set the plate for greater things later on, are seldom great in themselves. And this one follows the rule.

It's not bad; it's just not terribly memorable. It's catchy while it's on (and in the rockier vein that Ole Tarantula reignited), and forgettable when it's not. The two potential memories here are the jaunty "Saturday Groovers" and the long title tune at the end, which carries a bit more musical heft and drive to it. But by that time it's kinda too little too late.

Ah well. It's not the first "off" Robyn album in his 30-year career. And I still think he's got it. Just not so much here.

Sparks -- Plagiarism (1999). I'm going back and rediscovering Sparks' late-middle period, as it were -- post-popularity-resurrecting Number #1 In Heaven/Angst in My Pants/...in Outer Space, WAY post-glam-rock stardom (in the U.K., anyway, even though they hail from SoCal), and pre-21st Century artistic renaissance (which has given us so far -- in increasingly dazzling fashion -- Lil' Beethoven, Hello Young  Lovers, and the CD that STILL hasn't left my rotation nine months later, Exotic Creatures of the Deep).

(BTW, Russell might have actually looked something like this <---, if the cover of Big Beat is any indication. Ron, yeah, not so much. )

Granted, the period from roughly 1988-2000 is a mixed bag, but there's gems to be found -- the much-maligned Music That You Can Dance To, for example, is indeed half-insipid but also half-brilliant (the latter most notably found in one of their universally recognized best moments, "Change" -- and the sonic-symphonic blasting they first revealed on that song served them well on a few other songs here, and would continue to do so henceforth).

Plagiarism, which dates from near the end of this period, is Sparks covering... Sparks. And really, who else could handle it? As with the rest of their career, the musical iconoclasm extends to themselves, and they're clearly having a blast. And as always, there are moments that are laugh-out-loud funny (especially the covers of "This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Both of Us" and "Something for the Girl With Everything" with Faith No More), as well as moments of the sublime (the version of "The #1 Song in Heaven" with Jimmy Somerville, who sings even more angelically than Russell Mael, and the Francophiled remake of "Funny Face" that brings the true poignancy of the admittedly amusing lyrics front and center). Even the amped-up house mixes for "No. 1..." and "Angst in My Pants" are enjoyable. And then there's the now-full-length operatic version of "Propaganda." Yeah, that's fun, too.

My most consistently favorite moments, though, are the baroqued-up remakes, which sound like they're already trying out their 21st-Century personas here. The redo of the aforementioned "Change," in particular, leaves me grinning like an idiot every time, and the remake of the then-recent Euro-hit "When Do I Get to Sing 'My Way'?" pretty much fixes everything that didn't quite hit me the first time around and then some. And it's hard to go wrong making "Never Turn Your Back on Mother Earth" even more orchestrally gorgeous. And then making it your closer on top of that.

Not that this is gonna get them any more fans. But I'm gonna keep digging on it, and try to get you in on the party, too.

And finally (and I mean FINALLY...)

Willie Nile -- Beautiful Wreck of the World (also 1999). Finally found this, and I'm REAL glad I did. As advertised with his most recent album, Streets of New York , Willie's a longtime NYC musician whose saleability, like that of so many before him, collapsed under the weight of the "New Dylan" moniker.

I've checked out a bunch of his other albums since, but this is his best. Sure, there's a Dylan vibe here, but it's more felt via (as mentioned in that other review) "all Bob's chillun" -- specifically, the ones who survived the "New Dylan" appellation: Ian Hunter, Bruuuuce (of course), and especially for this album, The Waterboys. Use those reference points and you'll already know whether you want it. But I sure do.

And there's no better place to start than the Mottish opener, "You Gotta Be a Buddha (in a Place Like This)." This has been my "get pumped" song for a couple months now, and for good reason: Great guitars, great lyrics, great attitude, GREAT refrain-to-chorus coming off the world-weary "Subterranean Homesick Blues"-ish verses:

You laugh, you cry
You live, you die
You wake up in the morning and you don't why 
Yr flesh, yr bone
You piss, you moan 
As you stare into the vacuum of the great unknown 

Yoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooou -- gotta be a Buddha in a plaaace like thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissss 
Yoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooou -- gotta be a Buddha in a plaaace like thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissss 
Every now and then, there's a momentary bliss 
You gotta be a Buddha in a place like this.

"Black Magic and White Lies" keeps the rock factor up, but busts out the Mike Scott voice for not the last time here. And there's something about the line "Grab yr poetry and run" that I just love. And I'd swear the forlorn ballad "The Man Who Used to Be" is a Jayhawks song -- it's that spot-on. "Brain Damage" is another fun, Hunterish rant. "The Black Parade" and "Somewhere It's Raining" don't sound like anyone in particular, which must mean they sounds like Willie. The first is a nice pulsing elegy of a song; the latter another great straight-up rock'n'roll song. "Oatmeal Box" is a sweet Waterboys-ish reel, and "Tiorunda Surprise" is a just plain sweet closer for the album.

A few other songs deserving of special mention:

"Bread Alone" appears to be emerging as this album's "sleeper song" -- i.e., the one that comes out of nowhere 50 listens in a whacks you on the head all over again. Like another song I'm gonna get to later, there's definitely more than a few intimations of spiritual rebirth here, as well as some smokin' guitar on the bridge. Can't ask for much more than that.

On the other end of the spectrum is the title song, which is what piqued my interest when this came out (and just as quickly disappeared years ago). If I were still a drinking man, I'd HAVE to raise a glass to this song. Again, think Waterboys, only totally wiseass and VERY mock-apocalyptic. And it only gets worse as the song plows along.

Oh the young and in love won't dream on the moon
And the month of December won't come until June
All the heroes will cry, and the gays will love girls
It's the beautiful wreck of the world...

All the raindrops that fall will rise in the air
MTV rock-and-rollers will lose all their hair
You may think I'm kidding, but I mean it, I swear
It's the beautiful wreck of the world....

All political prisoners will be set free
Every one of their jailers will slide in the sea
Old rivals will shake hands, flags will be furled
It's the beautiful wreck of the world

All the bankers in town will give money away free
And Jennifer Lopez will make love to me
You may not believe it, but just wait and see
It's the beautiful wreck of the world

And then the verse that put my on my butt 10 years ago and made me resolve that I wouldn't rest until I finally had this album:

The preachers on TV will find true romance
And the world's politicians will shut up and dance
And Madonna Ciccone will put on her pants
It's the beautiful wreck of the world

On the decidedly more serious side is the song I'm almost certain I'll play next time I have a solo gig (and word has it that might be the weekend after the long-heralded Tension Envelopes reunion), "On the Road to Calvary." Beautifully folkie, and yet so much more majestic, with just the right touch of Springsteen:

I saw St. Christopher walking downtown on Main
With Black Madonna fingers holding a flame
I saw an eagle rising out of the blue
I heard a car crash, it reminded me of you

I saw a baby starve in North Africa
Too weak to cry, her tears fell down on the straw
I saw this orphan lift her vagabond eyes
Right at that moment I came to realize that

You carry me across the mighty river
You lift me up above the raging sea
You give me all this love you deliver
Straight to my back porch, on the road to Calvary

I saw this rich man with his bracelets of gold
Four cars, yacht and a mistress I'm told
Somewhere a restless wind blows out to the sea
Somewhere there is a place for you and for me

Now if you're wondering where I was last night
With Black Madonna, yeah, she gave me a light
I guess there's not a whole lot more I can say
Just tell St. Christopher we're all on our way

And You carry me across the mighty river
You lift me up above the raging sea
You give me all this love you deliver
Straight to my back porch, on the road to Calvary

And there you are. Good luck finding it, but good pickins if'n you do.

Posted by: burninglight at 07:39 | link | comments