Thoughts and Musings

Apparently I'm a "guitar virtuoso" whose voice "isn't there"

It happened this past Tuesday night.  I was playing an evening gig at a restaurant/tavern in nearby Winston-Salem.  It was a small crowd - it was a Tuesday night, after all - but there was one guy who sat right in front of me the entire night.  He had his back to me, facing the bar, but there he sat until 10:00, when I wrapped up my set and began packing up.

He turned to me and said, "Nice job there.  Enjoyed it."  I thanked him.

He continued: "Do you mind if I offer some constructive criticism?"

It's pretty rare, but every now and then I get something like this.  I'd say maybe five times out of 100.  Usually it's something along the lines of song selection or "you-should-really-play-at-such-and-such-place," etc.  I really don't mind hearing about ways I can improve what I do, so I told him sure.

He began.  "Well, first off, your guitar playing was fantastic.  I could listen to you play guitar all night.  But your vocals..."  He paused for a moment, as if to think about exactly how he wanted to put it.  "Your vocals, they just aren't there."

Huh.  I said okay and asked him what specifically about the vocals "wasn't there."  Was it my pitch or my tone, or something else?"

He responded, "Oh no, those things were fine.  I just don't think you're meant to be a singer, that's all. 

Let me intervene here for a second and say that I've never considered myself a first-rate vocalist.  Sure, I sang in my high school's show choir, as I chronicled in this post.  Sure, I've had voice lessons where I learned all about control and singing from your diaphragm and not your throat.  I know how to prepare my voice before I sing, and I know how to take care of my voice, which is part of the reason I'm not coaching swimming anymore (too much yelling).  But I'll never be mistaken, in my opinion, for being one with a truly great, marketable voice.  I know this.

Still, I consider myself a fairly decent singer.  In fact, of the two I think I sing better than I play guitar.  I know the types and styles of songs that work well with my voice. I think I have a good range.  So to be told that my vocals "just weren't there" - well, that was a new one.

I was gracious - the tip jar was was still out there, you see - so I thanked him for his thoughts and went back to my packing.  I figured that'd be the end of it.

I was wrong.

Because apparently this guy wasn't sure I got the point.  He continued: "I hope you don't mind me saying, man.  Like I said, you're a guitar virtuoso.  Your guitar playing is great.  Just not so much the voice."  He thought for a second.  "You know what you'd be great at?  You'd be great at playing lead guitar in a band and singing backup.  Yeah, that'd be it, right there.  Your voice is perfect for not being heard as much."

Ouch.

Be gracious, Steve, be gracious.  I didn't tell him that I play keys and sing mostly backup in a band called Mediocre Bad Guys.  I didn't see the point.  So again, I nodded my head and thanked him for his thoughts.

He wasn't done.

"I mean, it's not like everybody can be good at everything, right?  One out of two ain't bad."

Wow.

"Besides, like I said, your guitar playing - amazing.  I could listen to you play guitar all night."

Now he was repeating himself.

Which anyway, let's talk about that guitar playing, shall we?  If there's one thing I've never mistaken myself for, it's some stellar guitar player.  And that's easy in general for guitar players to do.  You get someone playing a few chords, maybe learning the "Stairway to Heaven" lick, and they suddenly feel like they're the next Jimmy Page.  If they're smart they eventually come back to earth and realize they are barely scratching the surface.  In fact, that's the secret of a successful musician, I think - it's not just being good at your instrument, but knowing your limits on it too. 

This happens with even seriously good guitar players.  Take the movie It Might Get Loud that came out last year.  Three renowned guitarists: U2's The Edge, Jack White of White Stripes fame, and the aforementioned Page.  They came together with their guitars and pedals and amps and such, ready to collaborate.  All three were mutually respectful of the others and seemed genuinely interested in the sharing process.  But when Page ripped off the opening guitar riff of "Whole Lotta Love," the faces of Jack White and The Edge said it all.  They looked like kids in a candy store, smiles of awe and wonder slowly spreading across their faces, realizing they were in the presence of true guitar greatness that existed on a planet other than their own.  Good guitarists know their limits.

I know my limits.  I know I am a pretty good guitar player that was born to play rhythm and in no way was ever intended to play lead.  I've tried, and it's not pretty.  I know I play in a band of three guitar players (including me when I'm not playing keys), and that I'm third best.  And you know what?  I'm fine with that.

So how this guy could see me as some stellar guitarist after listening to me for two and a half hours, I have no idea.

Back to the conversation.  I was getting kind of tired of him repeating himself, so I thought I'd try to change it a bit.  In a way that I hope came across as genuine and not accusatory, I asked if he played any instruments himself.  Well, he was coming across as the expert.  "Oh no, no no no.  I have no musical talent whatsoever."

I see.

I asked him what he did for a living.  He was in town on business, he said; a New Yorker wondering why mid-town North Carolina didn't have a night life to 2am every night.  He kept talking.  He said work was kind of rough for him "because our government isn't worth a *#@%#."

You can see where this conversation went.

I was all packed up now.  He offered to help me take stuff to the car.  For the first time ever I would've been perfectly happy not having any help.  Even so, we carried stuff to the car.  I thanked him for his help, he told me no problem.  We shook hands and turned our separate ways.

"Like I said, man, keep up the guitar playing!  Just find someone else to sing for ya.  You'll be alright if you just keep up the music!"

I certainly will.

One last cup of the Good Life

When my family and I moved to Mayberry a little over seven years ago, there were three things I required of the community in order to make it my home: an indoor swimming pool, a good Mexican restaurant, and a coffee shop.  I was just kidding, of course, except that I wasn't.  Coming to this place I took comfort in the fact that two out of three wasn't bad and that I could get by without a place to enjoy my beloved java.  Mercifully, the coffee house gods took pity on me; and within a few months of our arrival a local entrepreneur (and fine Presbyterian, I might add) chose to dedicate a chunk of the first floor of his Main Oak Emporium retail store in the heart of downtown Mount Airy to a brand new coffee shop.  And that is how the Good Life Cafe was born.

The thing is, the Good Life has been so much more than just a place to drink coffee, as it is with most good coffee houses.  It's where my young family would lunch on Fridays, my day off, munching on scrumptious chili and toasted jalapeno pimento cheese (still the best I've ever had).  It gained fame as a live music hotspot; a comfortable home to many an Acoustic Blend and Mediocre Bad Guys show, as well as the place where Abbey Road was brought back to life this past fall.  Every second and fourth Wednesday mornings the window loft area of the Good Life - what we affectionately labeled the "Upper Room" - was home to our church's Bob Chilton Bible study, providing a place for us to meet outside the church walls in the heart of our community.  A few years into its existence the coffee shop introduced this wonderful thing called wireless internet - now as common and prevalent as cell phones but back then a cutting-edge luxury that created quite a buzz in Mayberry-land.  Oh, and it also had some pretty darn good coffee too.  It has been a large part of many of our lives; a staple for our little town.

Which is why I, along with many others, was crushed this past week to learn that the Good Life was shutting its doors.

It's not a total shock, really.  This wasn't the first time that the "GL" had been on shaky ground.  The economy's tough these days, especially for small towns like ours.  And coffee houses are in perhaps one of the more difficult businesses when it comes to making a profit, having to support hefty costs of space and staff by selling a product for just a buck or two at a time.  But each time the Good Life started to take a fall, like a cat it always managed to land on its feet and continue serving the jo.

But not this time - it's closing for good.  And this is a very sad thing, for a lot of folks.  Because in truth it never really was about the coffee, as good as that coffee was.  That may sound strange, but it's true; a well-kept secret with all successful coffee shops.  It's really about the people - the people who work there and the people who happily give it business, and how those groups of people are brought together.  Like Cheers on the iconic sitcom of the 80's and 90's, the Good Life was a place where everybody knew your name.  And even if you didn't know their name, or even recognize them, they still felt like family.

And that's a rarity in our world these days, don't you think?  I mean, we all know the landscape is changing, or has already changed.  I know I can get a much better deal on a book by logging on to Amazon.com and securing the item of my choice with a few clicks of the mouse and a credit card.  I can surf the web and get pretty much anything and everything I'd otherwise find in a mom-and-pop store on Main Street without having to leave the comforts of my living room recliner.

But there's one very important thing that I will never be able to get in this manner - a sense of community.  A sense of associating myself with a group of individuals who share the same town, same space and air that I do.  A sense of feeling that I am part of supporting a local business, one that is owned by a fellow church member or a neighbor down the street.  It never fails - I go into the coffee shop and run into my son's first-grade teacher, and the guy who lap swam two lanes next to me that morning, and the Young Life leader doing his daily study, and the church member whose daughter's wedding I officiated last month.  That's what community is all about - it is rare and it is precious.

The Good Life's demise isn't the only business in early 2010 that's calling it quits - a day or two after this announcement one of our hometown newspapers shut its doors; two days later the owner of a one-of-a-kind train store decided to retire after having tried in vain to sell.  From what I hear there are more similar closings on the way.  And while my head knows that the Good Life really didn't set all those other things in motion like some sort of chain reaction, my heart can't help but feel it happened like that.

I got one last cup of coffee from the Good Life yesterday, it's final day of operation.  I'd just swum a few laps at the pool and needed something to warm me up from the sub-freezing temperatures we've been having around here as of late.  I needed a last "fix," in more ways than one.  I walked in to the familiar sound of the bell that rings when the door is opened, making my way past the retail clothing (which will now take over the Good Life space) to the main counter.  I placed my standard order: house blend, a little room for cream.  The lady on the other side of the counter (who I confess to not knowing as well as I've known many of the others who've stood in her shoes) filled my Good Life travel mug and handed it to me as I passed her a few dollar bills.  Keep the change, I said.  It was such a simple sequence of actions - pour some coffee, hand it to me, take my money, ring it up.  And yet there was a beauty and a grace about it each and every time; one I and many others will sorely miss as we stumble through the Good Life-less days that lie ahead of us.

So what's the moral here?  The obvious one: support your local businesses and restaurants whenever you can, even when you know you could get a better deal somewhere else.  There are people whose livelihoods depend on our choices.  And not only that, they are people we know.  We serve on community boards with them, we sit in church pews next to them, we coach little league soccer with them.  They need and deserve our support.

But perhaps the main lesson in all of this is simply being thankful for those places where community forms and where we are brought together.  For that is precious time, the sacred ground of human life.  For over seven years a whole bunch of us have had the pleasure of encountering this at the Good Life Cafe on Main Street in Mount Airy.  It sucks it won't be there for us anymore, but all those wonderful memories will continue to live on and remind us how something as basic and simple and wonderful as coffee can help create community.  In our segmented, technology-saturated and individualistic world today, that truly is a gift we can take with us long after the "OPEN" sign is turned off for the last time.

Yea for crystalline water ice - FINALLY - and for a good Plan B

I remember some pretty decent snows during my growing up years in Raleigh - usually one or two a winter that would enable good sledding, snowmen (and women), snowcream, and most importantly getting us out of school.  There was one that dropped a good foot of the white stuff in the Triangle area of North Carolina and stuck around for nearly a week.  Ah, those were the days.

Seven years ago, when our family moved to the foothills in Mount Airy, we figured we were guaranteeing ourselves some serious snows - the Blue Ridge mountains, after all, were right within view and get tons of snow.  So we're a shoe-in, right?  Not so much.  Other than our first winter here, we have been sorely lacking in the snow department.  Apparently when the storms come from the north down, as most of them do, the mountains act as a buffer for our little town, shielding us and sending the snow elsewhere.  Winston-Salem, just half an hour south, will get pounded; and we'll get nothing.  This has happened over and over and over again.  For the past five years.  Our measuring stick for this snow drought is the fact that our second son, born in 2004, had yet to experience a real snow - and by "real" I mean a snow that's more than a dusting that evaporates mere hours after its arrival.  It's been sad, trying to explain to your kids why they can't build a snowman with 1/8 an inch of the white stuff on the ground.  It's sad, and it's wrong.  No kid should be deprived of at least one winter wonderland in their childhood.

Which is why I am glad to say that, on Friday December 18th at around 2:20pm, they were deprived no longer.

The reports were coming in fast and furious that this was a "major storm" that would "cause significant accumulation" over the weekend.  I had heard it all before, many times.  I had since taught myself not to get excited or overly optimistic.  Despite the fact that all signs pointed to the predictions coming true, despite the fact that the area schools let out at 11am in advance of the storm (usually the kiss of death, as it were), I remained stoic.  I would be the "Doubting Thomas" of Mount Airy snowfall - I would not believe until I got to see.

When the snow did come, and when I saw it almost immediately sticking to the streets, I finally allowed myself to believe.  So did my boys, which was the most fun of it all.   The snow continued to fall late into the afternoon and evening, which was great as usually our snows come and go pretty quick.  That would not be the case today.  The only bummer about this was the fact that the second Mediocre Bad Guys gig with Rolling Stones sax player Bobby Keys had to be canceled, as the roads were a mess.  However, we got a chance to redeem ourselves - more on that later.

Saturday morning came quick, and after a big breakfast the boys and I headed outdoors.  By some freak of nature our streets were plowed at 6:30am, which is quite strange given that we live in a pretty secluded area of town.  It also messed up a good sledding hill around the corner for us, so we had to go on a hunt.  We found a pretty nice place in a friend's yard, and the boys got to hang out with one of their good school friends.  It was priceless seeing the looks on their faces as they sledded in our area's first real snowfall in five years; especially our youngest, for whom sledding had always been a concept he could only fathom in his mind.  This is the stuff memories are made of - not only for the kids, but for their parents too.

 After some time to dry off and defrost we went back out to engage in another wintry tradition - the construction of the family snowman.  Again, keep in mind that the last time we did this - the last time we were even able to do this - was 2004.  This year's snow was perfect for the cause - slightly damp, packed well.  As most snowman construction begins it didn't look too great at first.  But we persisted in our efforts, and thanks to a snowman kit the wife got a hold of we were able to complete our masterpiece in a little over an hour.  The picture to the left shows our creation - kind of hard to tell, but it was pretty tall, measuring almost even with the height of our boys.  Lots of fun.

So - back to that canceled gig the night before.  As soon as the band made the call to cancel we begin looking at other options to play with Bobby before he headed back to Nashville.  We had such a great time playing with him a year before that we didn't want to miss out on another opportunity.  After lots of phone calls, texts and emails, we finally settled on a Saturday night gathering at the band's practice space - in the basement of an off-the-beaten path warehouse in town.  Sure, it wouldn't be a full-fledged show like it would've been the night before, and one of our guitarists wouldn't be able to make the trek from Winston-Salem to join us.  But it would still be a lot of fun.  We invited a handful of our local friends to come hang out and around 30 folks turned up.  We didn't have a set list - we just called songs out as they came to us, pretty much the same songs we would've played anyway.  And while the big show would've been a blast, there was something kinda cool about the intimate feel of Plan B; just us hanging out with a pretty famous and talented dude playing some tunes and enjoying each others company.

Highlight of the evening - presenting Bobby with his birthday present: a framed poster of the original gig flyer with all our signatures, followed by playing the Beatles' "Birthday."  The plan was to give him the poster and play the tune on his actual birthday, which was the previous night, at the original gig.  But he still seemed genuinely touched by the gesture and joined us for some nice sax playing on a song in which you'd never thing sax would fit.  Which, of course, it did.  All of which goes to show that sometimes the Plan Bs can actually work out as good or even better than the original.

It's Sunday morning now and we had to cancel church because the parking lot hasn't been scraped.  Temperatures are heading upwards and the snow is starting to melt.  No one enjoys playing in slush.  It's always kind a bummer when the crystalline water ice transitions to liquid form.  But we've got pictures and memories that'll stick with us for a while.  Five years wait is long enough for a good snow and all the fun it brings.  Here's hoping we don't have to wait that long again.

Still Thankful

This past week, with the Thanksgiving holiday upon us, someone reminded me of a blog post I made a year ago appropriately titled "Thankful".  I went back and took a look at it and noticed how almost all of the things I was thankful for then are things I'm still thankful for now.  I don't know if this is a sign of a guy who is continually blessed, or a guy who lives a pretty mundane life where nothing changes all that much.  Either way, I'm cool with it.

At the risk of being redundant I thought I'd revisit last year's post.  Any instances that required updating are duly noted in red.  And don't worry, I won't do this every year.  In 2010 I'll treat you to an entirely new and original Thankful post.

Happy Thanksgiving day, folks.  Here's hoping you have much to be thankful for - and, more importantly, that you take time with the ones you love to celebrate those things.

*******************

I am thankful for coffee.  I'm drinking some right now, actually.  I wish to personally thank the individual who thought grinding up some brown beans and pouring hot water over them would taste good.  They were right.

At the moment I'm thankful for Ryan Adams.  Every time I listen to his music I hear something different I didn't pick up before, and I really like that sensation.  I like it because it stands in stark contrast to the sensation I get when I suffer through the repetitiveness of top-40 radio.  Which is something akin to eating those funnel cakes at the fair - it may taste good on the surface, but you know it's just not good for you.  Ryan Adams is kind of like the homemade ice cream - unique and worth the time and money invested.  That's also why I like Wilco, U2, Death Cab for Cutie, Nickel Creek, Radiohead, and others you don't always hear that much and who rarely get the deserved notoriety.  Which is exactly the point.

Last year it was Ryan Adams, this year it's The Avett Brothers. And Sufjan Stevens, especially his Christmas album.

I'm thankful for my boys.  I wish they could somehow know how much I love them, but I don't guess that's possible.  I'm not even sure I know how much.  Every time I look in their eyes I see my past, present and future all rolled into one, along with theirs.  It's a humbling, exhilarating feeling.

Likewise, I'm thankful for my wife.  I remember in my single days hearing folks describe their spouses as their "best friends."  I didn't get it - shouldn't you want your husband or wife to be something more than your "best friend?"  Now, having been married for just over nine years, I get it.  And I'm so glad that I happen to be married to my best friend.

Ten years.

I'm thankful for my parents, my brother, and extended family.  My life has taken all kinds of twists and turns in my 40 years, and it's humbling to know they've been there with me through it all.

Umm........41.

I'm thankful for the church I serve.  Unfortunately, this realization sometimes comes when I'm in conversation with clergy friends and hear their nightmarish situations.  And then I see that I really have it good.  It's a church that wants to go where the spirit leads; a church that genuinely cares for each other, and a church that puts up with (and even supports) my music and teaching ventures.  Most of all, it's a church that lets me be a real person, and that perhaps is the greatest gift they could ever give.

As if I needed any more reasons, my thankfulness for the church has increased ten-fold with their approval of a sabbatical for me next summer.  More on the sabbatical to come...

I'm thankful for the guys I've had the pleasure of making music with - Ken, Jerry, Les, Gary, David and others.  Acoustic Blend is entering its ninth year of existence, and Ken and I never tire of it.  And I'm more than content with being a so-so Mediocre Bad Guy, playing with some of the finest musicians Mount Airy has to offer.

I'm thankful for modern-day prophets like Shane Claiborne, Jim Wallis with Sojourners, Brian McLaren, David Beckmann with Bread for the World, Marcus Borg and many others who hit dummies like me over the head with the agonizingly simple message of the gospel.

I'm thankful for blogging.  I'd been trying for years to find a journaling outlet, but I never could bring myself to don a spiral-ring notebook and pen.  I'm too much of a keyboard guy.  Then I stumbled upon blogging, and that's pretty much been it (oh, and I'm thankful to you for reading it!)

I'm not blogging as much as I used to - it comes and goes in waves. That's okay, I still get a lot out of it.  And still thankful to you for reading!

I'm thankful for things like Facebook and Twitter.  Call me a geek, but they really are wonderful ways to stay connected with folks all over the place.  Where else can I catch up with that girl who lived down the block from me as a kid, and the friend who happens to be moderator of the denomination I serve in, and my old college professor?  The world really isn't as big as we make it out to be sometimes.

I'm thankful for wireless internet.  Free wireless internet specifically.

I'm thankful for the students in my college classes.  For actually showing up, for one thing, at 8:00 in the morning.  And then listening to me lecture for a solid hour.  They ask questions that keep me on my toes, which is exactly what I need.  And they're a lot of fun to be around too.

I'm still thankful for my students, but unfortunately it's no longer in a traditional classroom setting, as all my classes have been moved online. Not my preferred method of teaching, but we make it work.

I'm thankful for our next president.  I know I wanted Jesus, but I'm happy to settle for Obama.  I really do think he's going to bring the change our country so desperately needs.

I still think that.

I'm thankful for a good workout.  These days my goal is three miles jogging and one mile swimming, 2-3 times a week.  It wipes me out, and it's not taking as much off the waistline as it used to, but it still leaves me with a good feeling afterwards.

Something new I'm doing these days - treading water for 30-45 minutes, with weights.  I know it doesn't sound exciting, but it's one heckuva workout.  I've shed some pounds.

I'm thankful that God has never let me stand in the pulpit on Sunday morning with nothing to say.  This is the stuff of nightmares for us ministers, my friends.  I'm not kidding.

I'm thankful for football.  I live vicariously through the guys I watch on TV or read about in the newspaper or Sports Illustrated.  There's something fascinating about the orchestration that goes on between eleven players, all aimed at moving a piece of pigskin down the field; and another eleven orchestrated to stop them.

I'm thankful for that feeling when I drop the Eldest off in the car line at school in the mornings. The teacher opens the door, and I watch him gather his bookbag and any other stuff he's got.  We give each other a high-five.  Every time I tell him I love him and that I'm proud of him.  And I never, ever tire of watching him step out and walk through the school doors and into his big wide world in there.

So we're not doing the car line this year.  Our youngest is in the Pre-K program at the school and we're required to personally take him to his class.  Which means I actually get to take both boys to their classes.  I love this more than the car line. I get to hug 'em as they walk into their room and begin a day in their never-ending, lightning-fast quest that is growing up. 

I thought long and hard about something I could say to them every day, some words of wisdom to impart.  I guess I remember my mom telling me about what her father, a high school principal, used to always say to her and her two sisters: "Apply yourself."  It took a few weeks, but I finally found mine: "Learn stuff."  I like it.  More importantly, they do too.

Bringing Abbey Road to Life

Two reasons to like Vagabond Saints Society: one, it's one of the cooler band names, ranking right up there with Works Progress Administration, American Analog Set and The Most Serene Republic.  More importantly, they're comprised of some pretty amazing musicians in and around the Winston-Salem, NC area (two of whom I play with regularly in Mediocre Bad Guys). And they're not really a band per se, at least in the traditional sense of the term.  They don't really play together as much as they play around each other.

The Vagabond Saints Society comes and goes like a season: after being AWOL for a while, right around the time you're hoping to see them again, they reappear.  They play other people's songs but it must be made clear: they are not a tribute band or a cover band.  Their modus operandi is choosing some specific project - usually a stellar album by a stellar group or artist - and playing it from start to finish.  In the past they've tackled Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, The Who's Tommy, R.E.M. and a collection of easy rock hits from the 70's (don't laugh, I'm told it's a lot harder than it sounds).

But they do more than simply playing something that sounds like the original - and that's the real magic of VSS.  They learn the songs exactly as they're performed on the original recording, down to the last note.  They painstakingly plug through the minutia of a tune so thoroughly that what you hear is more than just a cover - it is a replica.  And that's something different entirely.

 Confession-time here: For all the years I've heard about VSS, I've never actually made an effort to see them play.  Until they decided this fall to tackle a little album called Abbey Road.  Perhaps you've heard of it?  Made by four blokes out of Liverpool England in the late 60's, #14 on Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums of All Time (and it should've been much higher in this blogger's humble opinion), vehicle of timeless hits such as "Come Together," "Something," "Octopus' Garden" and "Here Comes the Sun."  Yep. Seven very bold musicians from the heart of North Carolina dared to do something as audacious as replicate a true classic.

I heard about the rehearsals from my VSS friends Jerry Chapman and Doug Davis, as well as drummer Les Slate, all of whom I play with in the Bad Guys.  I heard how the bulk of it happened alone, as each performer was expected to show up at the four full rehearsals fully prepared and ready to go.  You heard right, four rehearsals.  I heard them point out things in the songs I never noticed before: intricate drumming that doesn't sound nearly as complicated as it is, the leg slaps at the beginning of "Come Together," the heavy use of the classic Moog synthesizer.  This, of course, is on top of the incredible songwriting that's whipped up on all the album's tracks, as well as the amazing performances from the Fab Four and others that brought those great songs to life.

Wow.  These VSS guys either know what they're doing or have waaaaayy too much confidence in themselves.

I caught their final show at the Good Life Cafe in Mount Airy - a welcome return of live music to this particular venue after a couple years' absence.  The place was packed.  A few B-rate solo artists opened with a post-'67 Beatles cover each to prepare the palette (I can call them B-rate because I was one of them).  And then the band took the stage: two guitarists, bass player (playing a left-handed Hofner nonetheless!), drummer and keyboard player, along with a viola and cello.  Nice!  They started from the top, and with the first few notes of "Come Together" you knew you were in for a treat.  Lemme show you what I mean:

(for those of you subscribing to this blog via email, click here to view the video).

The band forged straight through the album with no playful banter in between - after all; it's about the music, right?  They finished with a nifty rendition of "Birthday" off the White Album, icing on the proverbial celebratory cake.

As a music lover I left that night with my head filled with some great tunes that sounded as close to the original recordings as humanly possible for people not named John, Paul, George and Ringo.  As a musician I was blown away with the time and preparation that went into bringing all of this to life.  And as a father I loved every minute watching my drummer-inclined son soak up the spectacle, particularly the drum solo on "The End."

The big question, of course, is what Vagabond Saints Society will do for a follow up.  Geez, good luck figuring that out!  In the meantime we'll just soak up the moment and extend tothe seven women and men who made it happen the high praise they deserve.

Some other videos:

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What $1 Billion can - and can't - buy you in the NFL

It's Monday night in September and my wife is off with a friend of hers at the Rob Thomas concert.  Which means I'm not at band practice - a standard Monday evening ritual - but at home with the boys, who are now (supposedly) asleep in bed.  The TV is on and I'm watching my beloved Carolina Panthers taking on the Dallas Cowboys in that time-honored tradition known as Monday Night Football.  The game has a lot of intrigue - the Panthers are 0-2 and have not done much to instill confidence in their fan base so far this season.  The Cowboys seem slightly better but they, too, have an erratic quarterback and suspect defense.  Suffice to say it should be an interesting matchup.

That being the case, what is almost just as intriguing as the game itself is the field the game is being played on - the field and the millions of tons of concrete and steel hanging over it.  The New Dallas Cowboys Stadium is a sporting venue unlike any other - and that's not just a figure of speech.  It's been getting so much attention that Matt Lauer and Al Roker broadcast part of The Today Show from it a few weeks ago (no doubt promoting NBC's Sunday Night football game a few days later).

(Sweet, the Panther's defense held on the Cowboy's first possession and they missed a field goal.  My apologies for the occasional game interruption).

By now you've probably heard some of the facts and statistics surrounding this behemoth, which was introduced on opening night with a short video montage that showed the Parthenon, the Pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Roman Coliseum....and finally the Cowboys Stadium.  Nothing like setting the bar high!  Anyway, here are just a few to chew on:

• The interior of the stadium is 3 million square feet.
• Seating capacity is well over 100,000, making opening night the largest crowd to ever see an NFL game in person.
• The storied jumbo hi-def screen hanging over the field is 60 yards long, the largest of it's kind in the world.  It also has been a source of frustration for some punters.
• The interior of the stadium is so vast that the entire Ford Field, the indoor football stadium for the NFL Detroit Lions built just a few years ago, could actually fit inside it.
• In addition to the jumbo screen, there are over 3000 other screens in the luxury suites, concourses and restaurants.  Know that one concession stand at your local high school stadium?  There are hundreds of them here, along with dozens of food courts.
• The roof is retractable and can be opened and closed as the weather permits.  In addition, each end of the stadium is a huge sliding door that can be opened to let in air flow.  However, both doors must be opened at the same time or the air pressure could blow out the opposite door.
• Leases for the luxury suites range between $100,000-500,000 - and that's only for Cowboy games, not third-party events. They've got ten home games this season, including preseason games. Do the math.
• A 20-inch pepperoni pizza sells for $60 and parking goes for $75.  I think I read somewhere that a beer was $9 (which, all things considered, is pretty reasonable).
• Want to just go and hang out in the concourse areas with your friends without seeing any of the actual game?  You can, for a mere $29.  Seriously.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.  Every fact about this stadium is worth acknowledging.

(Hmm, first Panther possession was nothing to get excited about. Would've liked a little more "umph" out of the initial drive, guys.)

So time for full disclosure here: I do not like the Cowboys.  I was raised by my Dad to follow the Washington Redskins, which meant I could only hold the supposed "America's Team" with disdain and scorn.  I once met someone who swore they were both a Cowboys and Redskins fan.  I told them they needed to have their head checked. I will admit to Troy Aikman being a class act and I thought it was cool when Emmitt Smith won the original "Dancing With The Stars."  Other than that, though, there's not much I find more unappealing in the football world than that blue star on the silver helmet.  Even so, I'd like to think my uncomfortableness with this stadium has nothing to do with the team that's playing in it.

(Dang, Jake's eleventh interception in four games, dating back to the debacle in last year's playoff game.)    

I love me some football, I really do.  I suffer mightily every February as the last few seconds of the Super Bowl wind down and our world enters the 4-5 month purgatory known as baseball season.  I watch preseason games even though they don't mean a bloomin' thing (last year's winless Detroit Lions, as an example, went 4-0 in the preseason).  I know these guys get paid way too much money and there's simply no way to justify a drafted rookie haggling over whether his signing bonus should be $10 million or $12 million.  Still, I can't help myself.  I eat it all up, much to the chagrin of my betrothed.

But really - a $1 billion stadium?  Sure it's an architecture marvel and the huge TV screen is impressive.  But is it necessary?  Word is that it came with a price tag of well over $1 billion - that's with a "B" folks. And if you're in the greater Dallas area you going to feel about $325 million of that.  That's not chump change. It doesn't help matters that the instigator behind this is a narcissistic owner who unceremoniously fired a class act of a coach upon his arrival (Tom Landry) and then years later ditched his most successful coach because he'd proven not to be a simple "yes man" (Jimmy Johnson). It's hard to root for a guy like that.

But most importantly - does a stadium like this really enhance the overall experience?  When you get right down to it, everything boils down to one common denominator: the game on the field.  And despite all the bells and whistles surrounding it, the only thing that really matters is the two teams suiting up in helmets and pads, blocking, running, passing, tackling, trying with all their might to get a foot-long leather orb into the gridiron Holy Land known as the end zone.  That's why this game is a work of art whether you're watching it in a fancy NFL stadium or freezing on those horrid aluminum bleachers on a Friday night cheering for your local high school team.

(YEAH!  Touchdown, Rosario!  Nice snag!  Panthers up 7-0!)

All I can say is that I'd hate to be Tony Romo or Wade Phillips.  You don't build the Roman Coliseum of the 21st century to house a .500 football team. Talk about pressure.

Glad it's them and not me.  I'll go back to watching the game on my old tube TV from the comforts of my 13-year old recliner while munching on my $2 bag of pretzels.  It's good enough for me.

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POSTSCRIPT: Panthers lose 21-7, Delhomme throws another interception and a fumble. An ugly finish in any stadium.....

The day Prince took out Acoustic Blend

Last Friday evening after a nice little Acoustic Blend gig, Ken and I hung out at a local Starbucks and talked about the state of our two YouTube clips from the big Civic Center concert almost a month ago.  Looking it up on my Blackberry we learned that "Ants Marching" had 103 hits, while "Purple Rain" had a whopping 1,232.  It was cool to know so many people were checking them out.

Turns out that would be the last time I'd ever get a hit count on the Prince tune, and the last time anyone would ever get to see it.  Yesterday I got this email from YouTube:

This is to notify you that we have removed access to your video, Acoustic Blend - Purple Rain (Prince cover), as a result of a notification by The Publisher claiming that this material is infringing.  For more information, please visit our Copyright Tips guide.  If you believe this claim was made in error, or that you are otherwise authorized to use the content at issue, you may file a counter notice.  Sincerely, The YouTube Team

Well, at least they were nice about it.  "Sincerely" and stuff....

Seriously, though, what a bummer. And quite perplexing, as videos of people performing covers are quite aplenty in YouTube land.  If I'm trying to learn a tune for Mediocre Bad Guys, YouTube is the place to go to see how folks are playing it.  So when did this suddenly become an issue?

Turns out the issue may be more of "who" than "when."  At band practice last night Jerry reminded me of a blurb in a recent Rolling Stone issue about Prince's longstanding animosity toward his music being covered and posted on YouTube.  It appears that the eccentric (and certainly talented) artist wants to maintain full control over his image, products and music - a stiff challenge in an internet world for sure.  But the dude has a ton of money, which means he can hire an army of folks to do his bidding.  So it appears that Acoustic Blend is just the latest casualty in Prince's quest, and we will certainly not be the last. 

I hate it, if for no other reason than I felt it was a great cover.  Ken nailed the vocals, we had a real live bass player, and how can anyone ever forget Allen rising out of the orchestra pit for the solo!  Now that has been lost from the public eye forever.  So we shall take a moment to mourn the passing of the YouTube clip.......

There, I feel better now.

But have no fear, friends - I will not leave you lacking.  So I'm posting a few extra YouTube clips from the show.  Originals, of course ;-)  Enjoy the tunes.

25 Things

I'm a big Facebook fan.  I like the comment a friend of mine wrote on the "wall" of a mutual friend who recently joined Facebook - something like, Welcome to Facebook.  Now prepare for your day to be, in essence, one hour shorter.  True, how true.

If you're on Facebook you're probably familiar with the "25 Things About Me" craze that's making its way around.  The general gist is this - you post a "note" on your Facebook profile with 25 random things about you, and "tag" 25 other people to do the same thing.  I've been tagged a number of times but have resisted.  And then, after the cajoling of one of our church youth, I decided to play along.  And much to my surprise I found it to be a fun little exercise. 

So I thought I'd share these 25 things with the blogosphere - here they are. Whether you're on Facebook or not, consider doing the same thing.  I think you'll find it kind of cool.

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25 THINGS

1 - I'm not sure why I'm doing this. I'm also not sure why you're reading this, but thanks.
2 - Other than a couple of years in graduate school, I've lived all 40 years of my life in the Old North State.
3 - Oh, I did live in Hiroshima, Japan for four months in the fall of 1990, teaching English and learning enough Japanese to freak out Japanese people who didn't think I knew Japanese.
4- I have a younger brother, Brad, who is taller than me. But then again, a lot of people are. And I'm cool with that.
5 - I'm a fan of free wireless internet.
6 - I don't know that my two boys will ever be able to know how much I love them.
7 - I'm into reading Paste Magazine these days. It's got lots of great stuff about music, film, books. You should read it too.
8 - My wife has to be the most patient person on the planet to put up with me. And I love her lots for it. And for many other reasons too.
9 - I play music - solo, with Acoustic Blend, and a band called the Mediocre Bad Guys. It adds balance to my life.
10 - One time at a gig we were advertised as "Acoustic Bland." Seriously. Hardly anyone showed. Wonder why.
11 - I think I'm addicted to multitasking. I need to stop that.
12 - I was bitten by a shark when I was twelve. I started a Facebook group for people bitten by sharks, and so far only one other dude has joined besides me.
13 - I'm pastor of a church in Mount Airy and am truly blessed to work with such great members and great staff. It thrills me that they truly are seeking God's mission & vision.
14 - I love yardwork - it's my form of therapy. Cheaper than the real thing, and I can listen to my ipod while I do it.
15 - My family has three dogs.....waitaminute, it's four. At least for the moment. And two cats. And a hamster.
16 - I cried my eyes out when I saw "Marley and Me" with the family. My soft spot.
17 - I always dreamed of playing football as.....get this....a punter. Who dreams of being a punter?
18 - I was in Beijing, China with a Wake Forest group when the Tiananmen Square massacre happened.  We got out about an hour before the airport closed for a week.  Close call.
19 - My grandfather (Dad's dad) died when he fell off Mt. LeConte while hiking. I wrote a song about it.
20 - Speaking of which, I've put out two Cds of original music, but the last one was last century. Still waiting for the songwriting muse to come back around.
21 - A new routine I've taken on is getting up early on weekday mornings, before everyone else, having a bowl of cereal and reading the paper in silence. Aaaah.
22 - I feel at peace the most when I'm in the mountains or at the beach. Montreat and standing on the beach gazing into the horizon are my sanctuaries.
23 - I really don't have many major regrets, or complaints, about my life thus far.
24 - I think that sermons are a three-way conversation between a pastor, the congregation, and God. I like it when all three are communicating well together.
25 - I live by grace, each moment of every day. And I'm still learning exactly what that means. The joy of the journey.

All good things must come to an end.....even good music

Oh, email.  You can be so cruel.

My good friend Chad had the audacity to email this to me today - an article concerning a blog post from singer/songwriter Ryan Adams announcing that he is ending some portion of his music career.  Whether he's simply leaving his band The Cardinals or music altogether is not quite clear, although there does appear to be a aura of finality to it.

I've been forthright before in this blog (most specifically here) about my tremendous admiration for the guy.  As a musician he is a freak of a talent, putting out multiple albums in a year - amazing career in such a  short period of time (as detailed here).  And it's not just the quantity of music that's impressive, but the quality.  Solid stuff - everything from song structure to chord progression to melody lines.  I realize this every time our band tackles one of his songs.  This guy excels at crafting a tune, which is something 90% of the music world hasn't figured out how to do yet.

He gives a number of reasons why he wants to get off the crazy train, all of which center around a 34-year old guy facing health issues and trying to get his life in order.  I didn't realize that he'd lost a lot of his hearing and has some inner ear/balance problems - certainly a screaming electric guitar won't help that much.  He also talked about how he had given up smoking recently - always a good thing.  In his comments (which ramble on in sort of a "stream-of-consciousness" way) he expresses no love loss for the music media, many of whom were not always kind to him.  He didn't quite fit into any category.  Was he country or rock?  Alternative country?  Old rock?  Something else?  Same thing happened to Mozart in his day.  Now people earn doctorates in the study of his music and build entire careers performing it.

If this truly is a definitive decision and not just a knee-jerk reaction to a bad day, then it will be a loss for the music world.  At the same time, kudos to him for being courageous enough to chart a different course and to do it when he's on top rather than when he's past his prime.

It would not surprise me in the least if he were back in the studio and on the road in a year's time.  I have a sneaky suspicion that music's in this guy's blood.  Besides, the dude is still young and has plenty of time to make a comeback (if The Who can do it, anyone can).  But for the time being, we'll take this pause to appreciate all he's done thus far.  Thanks for the music, Ryan.  You've earned yourself a break.

*************

UPDATE - Hours later, a new blog post from Adams that simply says:

Of course everything i said got taken out of context. as always, i did not say i was quitting i said i was taking a step back…so thanks…..thanks again

The lengthy post he made earlier in the day is conspicuously absent from the blog's archive.

So - your guess is as good as mine.  Guess we'll eventually find out!

All I want for Christmas is to play with the former saxophonist for The Rolling Stones

Wish granted.

If the name "Bobby Keys" doesn't ring a bell, I won't hold it against you.  I didn't know who he was at first, either.  Then about a month ago at a Mediocre Bad Guys rehearsal, drummer/singer Les Slate informs us that Bobby Keys will be in the area around Christmas.  This is a big deal, I learn, because Bobby is a world-renowned saxophone player and is best known for his work with a little band called The Rolling Stones.  Remember the awesome sax solo on Brown Sugar?  That was him.  How about Honky Tonk Women and Waiting on a Friend?  Him too.  Turns out he played on a half-dozen of their albums (Exile on Main Street, Sticky Fingers, and Some Girls to name a few).  He's also shared the stage and studio with a bunch of other folks like George Harrison, B.B. King, Eric Clapton, and Joe Cocker (and that's just a few - lots more here.) The guy's a legend.

Pretty cool, eh?  It gets better.

Not only is he coming to Mount Airy, Les says, but he's going to spend the holidays with a friend here named Skip.  And Skip happens to be the guy who lends the band our practice space in the basement of an old warehouse he owns.  So Skip and Bobby were talking and decided it'd be cool to do a show while he's here.  Only thing is that he needs a band to play with.  Well.....  Yep, you guessed it.  Bobby Keys and the Mediocre Bad Guys in concert - December 19, 2008.

So many things about this experience to chronicle, so I'll do it in two parts:

THE REHEARSAL

The night before the show we held a special practice session with Bobby, just to make sure we were all on the same page.  Before he gets there you can imagine the extra energy about the place.  When Bobby does arrive, though, he puts us at ease.  I'm immediately impressed with not only his obvious talent but how down-to-earth the guy is.  There's an unwritten rule in the music world that someone as accomplished as a Bobby Keys has permission to act a little "prima-donnaish," if you will - and everyone happily accepts it.  I guess it's the same thing in other areas like the sports and political worlds.  From the moment he got there, though, Bobby was anything but - talking and joking and laughing with us like he's some guy in town dropping in for a jam session.  Nicest guy.  Oh, and did I mention it was his birthday too (a birthday he happens to share with a dude named Keith Richards)?  It's his birthday and he's spending it in the basement of some warehouse in Mount Airy with a half-dozen yahoos playing tunes.  Can this get any better??

Yep, because we hadn't started playing yet.  We kick things off with some songs he suggested: Brown Sugar, Honky Tonk Women, and the Peter Gunn Theme from the Blues Brothers.  Suffice to say they sound awesome.  The sax solos are dead-on - which is understandable since the guy who actually recorded them is the same guy that's playing with us.  Unbelievable.  We then segue into our standard MBG setlist, not sure how some of them would lend themselves to sax.  No worries.  Can't picture sax in Ryan Adams' When the Stars Go Blue?  You should - at least if Bobby is playing.  How about Green Eyed Lady?  It'll work.  Jack Johnson tunes?  Absolutely!  On the fly this guy is coming up with amazing stuff; and those of us in the band (and a few other observers there) are just kind of looking at each other like, ".....wow." 

One more thing about rehearsal.  When we finish running through Brown Sugar, Bobby casually mentions that they recorded that song on his birthday.  And since tonight was his birthday too, that meant that 39 years before, on this very night, Bobby laid that famous sax solo on one of the classic rock songs of all time.  So surreal.

THE SHOW

 I actually had an earlier gig that same evening; a private party in Winston-Salem that I scheduled prior to this.  Let me give a shout-out to "Hope & the gang" for working with me so I could play some music for them and duck out a little earlier than planned.  I pull in the parking lot of the brand spankin' new venue that's part of Goober's 52 Restaurant and literally walk in the door and up on stage.  Within 120 seconds of putting my car in park, we start playing. 

Like any gig there are some technical glitches here and there - but all in all it's pretty obvious from the start that this show will be rockin'.  The crowd of about 130+ is really into it.  We start off with a few songs as just MBG and then welcome Bobby to the stage.  We kick off Brown Sugar - and when he launches into that sax solo after the second chorus, you feel this jolt of energy shoot through the place.  The guys are looking at each other with that same sort of "wow" look we had the night before.  Now, though, it's the audience doing the same thing.

We play straight through for almost two hours, and Bobby gets into this routine of joining us for a few tunes and then taking a break.  He sets his own pace, which is perfect.  And anytime he takes the stage, it's a given that he's going to help us take the songs to a whole new level.  Once again, Bobby works his magic no matter what we're playing.  Ryan Adams in particular sounds amazing with the sax, as does Ain't No Sunshine.  Anything this guy touches turns to gold.

Near the end of the show we're in the middle of an extended version of Miss You when singer and bassist Jerry Chapman comes over to me and asks, "We haven't done Peter Gunn, have we?"  Oops.  Gotta do that one - Bobby requested it.  So we do this weird yet seamless transition from the Stones classic to the song the Blues Brothers made famous - different key, but somehow it works. Bobby goes off on his solo, and then he stops and starts pointing randomly at others to take a turn.  Now I've never soloed on Peter Gunn.  Never even thought about it.  But when the former sax player for the Rolling Stones looks at you and says, "Okay, Preacher Man, take it!"  you don't disappoint. Highlight of my evening (well, that and playing cowbell on Honky Tonk Women.  Because, you know, you need more cowbell...)

All in all it was a most memorable show - certainly for the band and the audience.  But the real neat thing was how memorable it was for Bobby too.  He got as jazzed about the whole thing as the rest of us.  I just think it's so cool that a guy who has seen and done all he has can get such a kick of out playing music with this little band called the Mediocre Bad Guys in Mount Airy, North Carolina.  An amazing two nights for sure.

He says he wants to come back and play with us again sometime.  I'd say he passed the audition.

 

THE BAND (L to R):
Jerry Chapman, Les Slate, Gary Manfredi, David Dixon, Bobby, Yours truly, Doug Davis




Ladies and Gentlemen, the newest member of the Mediocre Bad Guys