The Great Disconnect In The Sky

THE FIRST-EVER BOTG JESUS WEEK
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Post #3: The Great Disconnect In The Sky

The Reivers--"He Will Settle It" (mp3)
Warren Zevon--"The Indifference of Heaven" (mp3)

One day a week or so ago, my wife and I were driving downtown to a restaurant when I said, kind of out of the blue, "Do you think that everyone is just practicing various levels of self-deception about God?"

It was a slow day on the radio, I guess.

She agreed with me. We kept driving, both trying to figure out in our own minds what I'd just said. Don't worry; this is not going to be an argument in favor of atheism or agnosticism or nihilism or the Yellow Deli. It's just a public wondering about how we interpret a higher power.

Here's what I think: there is a great disconnect about what happens up there in the sky or at least in that place where it's most convenient to look when we want to ponder things greater than ourselves. It all depends on whether you are inside of a situation looking out or outside of it looking in. F. Scott Fitzgerald first talked about "the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function," and it is this schism that we daily struggle with. Because, let's face it, our two basic views of God, or at least mine, do not reconcile, even in the slightest way.

FIRST VIEW: If you have a loved one in grave circumstances, say, in the hospital, then you are likely to see, or at least to wish for, God's presence and oversight in every yawn, every blink, every shift of a muscle. You talk to God, at least in your head. More likely, you beg and plead for anything, even the slightest improvement. You believe that God can and may or even will act. Even something as obvious and predictable as a rally after a powerful dose of antibiotics is ignored in favor of the power of prayer.

SECOND VIEW: If, however, you are not emotionally engaged, then on some level, you know that this is a silly, even dangerous, kind of understanding of God. You start with why a single swing, a lucky punch, puts a young man in a life-threatening situation. From there, you reject the oft-heard notion that this is somehow part of a divine plan that we mortals are not blessed to understand. Then you intuit that the God you think you know would never do any such thing, would not allow the random to rule more powerfully than his will. Furthermore, you know that He would not tease or dabble in a family's pain and upheaval. And then you conclude that God is not involved or even that whatever higher power there is doesn't have that role or ability.

I have certainly been on both sides of this one. When Robin was near death after a misdiagnosed appendectomy, you can bet I was talking in my head and praying, and even the note from Moms in Touch, a group I might have made fun of, was one of the most comforting messages I received. At the same time, I agree with Robin when she talks about her social work years with child sexual abuse cases and how no god could ever have a glorious plan that involved the kinds of things that were done to those children.

Musically, I suffer from the same dichotomy. Ever since John Lambert first introduced me to the Reivers' song "He Will Settle It," it has remained for me one of the most spiritual pieces of music I've ever heard. And, I've continued to make the assumption that the "He" in the title was a reference to God or Jesus, but there's no concrete evidence, just three verses of various kinds of despair and struggle and getting by, then the resolution of the refrain: "But I know, [H]e will settle it."

At the opposite end of the spectrum, Zevon's "Indifference of Heaven" seems equally appropriate to our condition most of the time:

Gentle rain
Falls on me
All life folds back
Into the sea
We contemplate eternity
Beneath the vast indifference of heaven

When things go badly, as they always do eventually (though in the song, Zevon ramps up the pathos even more to create some grim humor), it's hard not to think that whatever force is there that guides us is benign at best. At best.

And so, yes, I conclude, that we typically add our conceptions of God to our many other daily self-deceptions and that this is what we need to do, have to do, want to do, suffer from, take comfort in, and otherwise juggle with all of the other balls we have in the air. Which conception is the more deceiving? I haven't made that choice yet. I expect I'll try to keep both up there at the same time.

The Reiver's "He Will Settle It" comes from a mix cd known only in our family as "John's Greatest Mix." Perhaps he can tell you which CD it originally came from, but it is now out-of-print. Warren Zevon's "The Indifference of Heaven" comes from his perfectly-legitimate-to-download-from-archive.org concert of 1/12/96.

Praise & Worship THIS!

THE FIRST-EVER BOTG JESUS WEEK
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Post #2: Praise & Worship THIS!

Too Far Out - John Davis (mp3)
Undo Me - Jennifer Knapp (mp3)
The Pilgrim Song - Josh Bales (mp3)

There's this guy sitting at his computer with Last.fm playing random stuff through his speakers. A Newsboys song comes on, and instead of skipping to the next one, he listens. He's never gone to church. Wouldn't know Jesus from Shinola. But he listens. And something about the words and the music, they move him. A seed has been planted. This dude will become a Christian.

I'm sure the above or something like it has happened. But then, I'm pretty sure people have spontaneously combusted. Neither are events I expect to witness in reality.

I was in this cheesy church children's musical recently, and the woman who directed it offered the "Break a Leg" prayer for us before we went out there. "Dear Lord, if there's someone in the audience who's never heard of You, may we be the vessel for You to reach them...."

This isn't a unique prayer. It's muttered a lot before church events. And I'm, like, scratching my head, wondering when the last time a purebred Heathen stumbled into our Gothic religious monstrosities without the slightest clue about Jesus. It's not like you could accidentally mistake most churches -- even the newfangled warehouse-lookin' ones -- for a Wal-Mart or a carpet store.

That's how I feel about Christian music. It's not made to seek lost souls. It's comfort food for Christians. Anyone who sees it differently might as well expect another Spinal Tap drummer to spontaneously combust.

In spite of that, once every year or so, I'll dive in and buy an album by an artist whose work is expressly Christian. Musical Tithing, maybe. Like much of my Christian existence, I tend to keep this act to myself. I don't generally go bragging about it or asking my fellow music lovers, "Hey, have you heard that new MercyMe album? It totally kicks Christian ass." ("It really kicks Cross"?)

I'm more apt to discuss my admiration for Hanson than I am for Christian music. Where's the kitschy fun in Christian tunes? That kind of fun left once Stryper and DeGarmo & Key fell into obsolescence (which was, to be fair, roughly 30 minutes before they finalized their first albums). D&G's funniest/best/worst song was "Boycott Hell." Dude, I listened to that thing allll the time. It was the Deathstalker II of Christian music. I couldn't tell if they were serious or making fun of their own genre.

Amy Grant's rise to crossover recognition -- with plenty of help from U2 -- made it so Christian music in the 21st Century really isn't very different in instrumental quality and composition than all that good Satanic stuff.

Sure, the lyrics still frequently struggle. But that's only 'cuz Christian Rock is limited to coloring in the lines, while Satan Rock can go anywhere, say anything. John Davis' "Too Far Out," which musically could have come straight off a rollicking Superdrag album, still struggles with a chorus of "Thank you Jesus. Abba, Father. All things are possible with you."

I specifically chose the first two songs because they are in-your-face Yay Jesus songs. The final song I chose because I play this song many times over everytime someone I know dies, and I'd love to know it was played one day at my own funeral. I don't know a single song that has evoked more private tears from me, driving down the road in the strange privacy of my car, than this one has.

This isn't my Secret Sinister Plot to convert anyone. Not sure I could listen to lots of Yay Jesus music if it merely reminded me how I was going to Heaven while the rest of you bastards were headed on that Great Downward Spiral with Trent Reznor. Fortunately for me, I'm pretty confident we're all going to the same place. Christian music merely reminds me of a destination for which we're all bound. Whether you like it or not, dammit.

Nevertheless, if you ain't Christian, I don't see you downloading those first two songs and hitting Repeat until Jesus returns. It's just decent comfort food for us mostly-obedient sheep.

Baaaaaa.

"Too Far Out" is from John Davis' eponymous solo CD and could in theory be purchased in CD format on Amazon. "Undo Me" is from Jennifer Knapp's first CD, Kansas, available on iTunes. Josh Bales' albums can be purchased via iTunes.

Missed Hits #3

Martha and the Muffins--"Echo Beach" (mp3)

I'm weird about the '80's. First of all, because in spite of the cheese and the synthesized drum beats and all of that, I believe that some great, lasting music was produced during that decade. Secondly, because most of the best music was rarely, if ever, played on the radio. I'm thinking bands like Guadalcanal Diary, the Db's, Let's Active, and several one-hit wonders.

Case in point: Martha and the Muffin's "Echo Beach." Thematically, it parallels the Brian Wilson-penned Beach Boys hit, "In My Room," which also argues for isolation as the most desirable state of affairs. Musically, it out-riffs the Police with an otherworldly guitar signature. Rarely, in pop music, has a guitar signature set up a tone so well. You know that it is taking you to a place you've never been before. Lyrically, the song is straightfoward:

I know it's out of fashion
And a trifle uncool,
But I can't help it,
I'm a romantic fool.

When I first heard "Echo Beach" on the radio, briefly, in Chicago, I hadn't yet entered the world of full-time work, and so its full impact wasn't clear to me. But now, oh yes, I clearly get it:

From 9 to 5 I have to spend my time at work,
My job is very boring I'm an office clerk,
The only thing that helps me pass the time away,
Is knowing I'll be back at Echo Beach someday.

Where is your Echo Beach?

As you can tell from the snap, crackle, and pops, this version comes from an old 45. However, the song is available at Itunes on a Martha and the Muffins greatest hits compilation. Even though this was the only thing close to a hit, and a regional one at that.

WWJS - What Would Jesus Shuffle?

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Post #1: WWJS - What Would Jesus Shuffle?

Poor Man's House - Patty Griffin (mp3)
Calling All Angels - Jane Siberry (w/K.D. Lang) (mp3)

If Jesus had an iPod... I'm inclined to believe Jesus wouldn't care much for songs about himself. I've never believed in a God whose ego needed stroking, and the only thing worse than an egocentric Old Man is a self-centered Son. Just ask the Bushes. Or, if you prefer, Daedalus and Icarus.

Seriously, can you think of anything less appealing in a hero than someone who sings songs about themselves? The thought of Jesus, walking on the other side of the street, whistling "The Old Rugged Cross" or "Nothing But the Blood" should nauseate.

So while Jesus probably shies away from Praise & Worship stuff, he hopefully enjoys ditties about the human condition, about how most of us hunger for spiritual food, about how our notions of the post-death future shape so much of our present. If Jesus didn't love Patty Griffin, I'm just not sure I could like the guy. I could love him, but not like him. Like my Aunt Belinda.

Doesn't seem like Jesus had much time for music while he was down here, actually. J talked and talked. And talked. It's possible that, being perfect, Jesus didn't need music. Perhaps Jesus was music. The perfect song taking human form, blood coursing through notes. A perfect glissando chord progression.

David, on the other hand, was the epitome of Biblical humanity. David wrote music, danced, sang, played instruments. He fed on music like a vampire on blood. It was the only way he found, other than prayer, that connected him to God.

I hope we all get iPods in Heaven, but they're probably obsolete. We prolly just think of a song and get to listen to it, much like Trinity learned to be a helicopter pilot in a matter of seconds in "The Matrix."Heavenly Rhapsody, or something. Dear God, I hope Cheap Trick isn't banned in Heaven.

Of this I am certain: Without music, I would have no soul.

Lambert, one of our regular visitors, passed along a blog by a man named Daniel Radosh. Intrigued by his writing, I followed his links down the rabbit hole until I discovered a highly amusing "debate" between him and another man on the topic, "Does Christian Rock Suck"? Like all debates, the sides are on the extremes while the reality lurks somewhere in the middle, but the debate was valid and enjoyable nonetheless, particularly for those of us who find ourselves drawn to religion and music in almost equal portions.

Can't rightly say where on that spectrum I fall. I get the guy who thinks Christian Rock sucks. I get the gal who thinks Christian Rock is the end-all be-all of music. I get the old lady who loves Elvis' gospel albums and the young lad who leaves the church parking lot cranking up some Eminem.

What spooks me is people who love music but feel nothing spiritual about it. Likewise, I can't comprehend people who are religious but don't enjoy music. Not sayin' these people don't exist. They do. In spades. I just don't get 'em.

My notion of Hell -- and I'm not being glib -- is life without music. Life without music is life without God.

My most selfish fear is of going deaf. How could I not, between my genetics and the abuse I've rendered on my ear drums these last 36 years, eventually lose my ears? Deaf feels more inevitable than death. If this seems unreasonable, 'tis precisely the unreasonable nature of this certainty which defines fear, right?

When preachers decry music as Satanic, I can't help but laugh, since even the crappiest of music still contains proof of heaven. Maybe some music is truly evil, in that it was created with the worst of intentions and the most dire of ambitions. But enough about Clay Aiken (ba-dump-kssh!). Even in the darkest of music lives the light of creation, and in that light, spirit. Jesus lives in AC/DC, although I suspect Angus Young might vomit black blood from the depths of his chest if he read such a thing.

I hear my religious beliefs echoed in every song I hear, even if sometimes it comes through more clearly than others. Sure, I feel closest to God when I hear a bagpipe band play "Amazing Grace." Something about that song, emerging from a chorus of those instruments, that vibrates through every fabric of my tissue. It doesn't matter if it's being played in the sanctuary of my church or on a street corner outside Ryan's Irish Pub in the French Quarter. Even soulless rock has soul, this distant beacon from a lighthouse buried deep in the fog of overproduction and slick black pitch.

Although I am occasionally attracted to gospel music and even "Contemporary Christian" music, the songs which draw me closest to my faith tend to be, technically speaking, anything but.

There's the scene from "Children of a Lesser God" where William Hurt and Marlee Matlin dance, and she's feeling the beat as it surges through the floor and into her feet. Although it frightens me to think of life with the Mute button stuck, I cling to the hope that even those without hearing still find ways to feel music.

So Hell is deeper than deafness. It's the absolute absence of tune, note, treble, bass. It's Will Ferrell with Voice Immodulation Syndrome.

and every day you gaze upon the sunset
with such love and intensity
it's almost...it's almost as if
if you could only crack the code
then you'd finally understand what this all means

but if you could...do you think you would
trade in all the pain and suffering?
ah, but then you'd miss
the beauty of the light upon this earth
and the sweetness of the leaving

When I hear Jane Siberry sing these lines, I hear sonic aftershocks of Genesis (the book, not the band). I feel a power bigger than the entirety of humanity, offering tiny drops of revelation to songwriters all over the planet throughout all of time.

I even feel God's aftershocks through Kevin Rowland. Or, well, I imagine I would if I ever had to listen to him... although I'd prefer feeling God through Patty Griffin.

"Poor Man's House" is from Patty's first album, Living With Ghosts. "Calling All Angels" is on Jane Siberry's When I Was a Boy but is also on the soundtrack for Wim Wenders' "Until the End of the World." Both songs can be purchased on iTunes.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Wall of Voodoo--"Mexican Radio" (mp3)
Los Lobos--"Peace" (mp3)

I seem to add more holidays every year. This year, it's Cinco de Mayo.

Why? The reasons are really pretty simple. Because I power-washed my deck. Because I planted some dying pansies. Because there is leftover wood in my rusty outdoor fireplace. Cinco de Mayo now becomes a reason to rub some chipotle powder on some country-style pork ribs, to mix up some guacamole, to roast some tomatillos, garlic, and jalapenos, to soften up some tortillas, to fancy up some black beans, to chill some Mexican beer. In other words, to celebrate the season and the weather and a Monday with some food and fire under the pretext of broader celebration.

It is pretty silly for there to be a holiday and not to celebrate it, isn't it?

Holidays are special days, and to dismiss them with an "I'm too busy" or "I'm not into ______" or, silliest of all, "I'm not even Irish" borders on lunacy. I'll tell you what--stumbling through a packed Bourbon Street in between parade floats with a beer in one hand, a rubber duck dressed like an Irishman in the other, and two pounds of various green and white beads around my neck, I felt pretty damn Irish!

Even this morning, a guy was sitting in my office questioning why we even celebrate Cinco de Mayo. Let me put this directly: what kind of a people are we becoming if we are questioning the reasons for holidays? Or, does Cinco de Mayo somehow fall in the same category as MLK's birthday, where some of us give it tacit acceptance, but don't see what the big deal is?

Admittedly, I didn't know much about Cinco de Mayo before this year. I knew it was a kind of an "independence day" for Mexico, but the history is a little more complicated than that. But so what? Add it to my ever-growing list of holidays.

My own history with Mexico is brief. About 15 years ago, while at a conference in San Diego, we decided to take a brief trip into Tijuana. We had a convertible from the rental car company and a "guide" in John L., who assured us that the best way to visit was to park and walk over. But, he didn't see the turn and so all of a sudden, three ignorant-of-the-language, scared shitless gringos were cruising the street of Tijuana in a Chrysler LeBaron convertible. We immediately turned around and got back into the customs line to reenter the United States. But, it's quick coming in and slow going out. So we sat and sat and sat in a long line of cars while "entrepreneurs" of all kinds approached our vehicle, trying to sell anything you can think of, from flowers and trinkets to cases of that Mexican gum you see at Amigo's.

Holidays are on my mind for another reason. This year, for the first time, I'll be out of the country for the 4th of July. I'll be teaching in Korea, and on that day, I'll be walking the streets of a city of around 12 million people. Very few of them will give that day a second thought. But I will, and I'll do it through music: I'll have my Aimee Mann's "Fourth of July" and Dave Alvin's "4th of July" and Lucinda Williams' "Firecracker" and Bruce Springsteen's "Sandy (Asbury Park 4th of July)" and Neil Young's "Hawks and Doves" and "Rockin' In The Free World" and Paul Simon's "America" and a host of other songs. Perhaps I'll be able to locate a Budweiser or two, put on my Old Navy shirt with the American flag, and maybe, we'll have a little holiday over there after all.

Happy Cinco. Eat a jalapeno. Get crazy.

Wall of Voodoo's "Mexican Radio" comes from my brief foray into the original Napster. Los Lobos, which is the only Hispanic-flavored band I listen to with any regularity, seems to have peaked, but once put out a terrific series of cd's in the '80's and '90's. This version of "Peace" comes from a radio station's compilation, Rare on Air, Vol. 1, and is a live, in-studio performance.

If I Had A Mountain (My 10 Commandments for the New(ish) Century)

Bob Weir--"The Greatest Story Ever Told" (mp3)
The Long Winters--"The Sound of Coming Down" (mp3)

I'm not God. I've never played him on TV, nor have I been asked to assume the role in a bad Steve Carrell movie. Nevertheless, I've been pondering those commandments brought down from Mt. Sinai lately and thinking that if I had a mountain and someone came up onto it looking for a 10-point list of supreme knowledge, I would, by all the laws of divinity vested in me by the State of Tennessee, have to deliver.

The beauty of my list (and of not being God) is that my list is much friendlier than the original. Oh, I'd like to think that my dictums are serious and important and worth following. And most of them don't offer much wiggle room. But because I am just one of "you people," as I was called today, I can use the First Person Plural instead of the Second Person, formal or otherwise. Any commandment I issue forth unto you I also issue forth unto myself.

And so:

1. We should not take credit for something that we didn't do.

2. We should be generous. Being cheap, especially in our treatment of other people, is offensive.

3. We should not let economics dictate our ethical standards.

4. We should no longer fully embrace capitalism. It is based upon ever-increasing consumption in a world where resources are finite.

5. We should be godly people and so should not lose touch with our planet. I'm not talking about recycling plastic bottles; I'm talking about getting in the dirt, the grass, the forest, the stream, the ocean, the snow, the hills, the mountains, the mud.

6. If we are men, we should treat women equally; if we are women, we should help our men to be men, thus ending the simultaneous gender wars.

7. We should find the boundaries of gossip. Zero gossip is impossible, but pointless gossip is manageable. If it has no impact on us, why should we seek to know about it?

8. We live in an information age; therefore, being uninformed is a sin. Especially about the workings of our government and about the conditions of the rest of the world.

9. We should seek to be enlightened beings, and so should put away barbaric things--the spanking of children, misogyny, racism, waste, entitlement, and anything else that corrupts us through the dual seductions of power and force.

10. If we say that we are going to do something, then we should do it. If we are not going to do it, then we shouldn't say it.

I would enjoy hearing your feedback, your additions, your deletions. By the way, "Bob" spelled backwards is "Bob."

Bob Weir released his first solo cd, Ace, back in 1970, and like the early Jerry Garcia solo cds, it's really just an extended Grateful Dead record. Not that that is a bad thing. "The Great Story Ever Told" comes from that release. "The Sound of Coming Down" is from the Long Winters' second CD, When I Pretend To Fall. Both are availabe at Itunes.

Missed Hits #2

Alejandro Escovedo--"The End" (mp3)

Alejandro Escovedo has really flown under the radar. Songwriters know him. Fans in the Southwest know him. Even Hank Bramblet knows him. But that gives you a sense of his relative obscurity. There are probably any number of his songs that would qualify as missed hits, but this one was actually released as a single. To add insult to injury, I only bought the CD single because it came with a bunch of bonus songs, live acoustic covers of things I like, including Peter Case's "Two Angels," V.U.'s "Pale Blue Eyes," and Mott the Hoople's "I Wish I Was Your Mother." I had heard of Escovedo at that point, but hadn't actually heard him. But maybe it isn't really an insult, since those cover choices hipped me to his hipness.

"The End" is available at Itunes on the CD, Thirteen Years. Those cover songs are available, too, as part of the expanded edition.