Tin Pan South 2007 (Friday, 3/30)

Having a day off from the day job on Friday helped me rest up for the remainder of TPS, a vital part of any attendee’s plan for survival. My best friend Bob, a lifelong fan of country music, was in town on business and up for the combined challenge and delight that is Tin Pan South. We headed for the Rutledge, a great new nonsmoking venue on 4th Avenue, to see “Radicals in The Round” featuring a couple of my favorites, Don Henry and Craig Carothers, in the round with Angela Kaset (“Something In Red”) and rocker Michelle Malone (a new Nashvillian).

Bob & I found good seats on the wooden benches (apparently recently made, so they had that nice lumber smell). I put in a request with Carothers for “Open Mike” (“Open Mike, Open Mike, sang the songs that no one liked”) and he nodded and smiled; no doubt this is a standard for their shows…but a good one. Whether the song is a redemption story of a lousy songwriter turned hitmaker, or a comment on the unfairness of the music business, it’s a brilliantly funny song. Malone’s song and accompanying back story of meeting an inebriated Tanya Tucker was amusing and relatable, but it was her intense bluesy guitar and her formidable voice that left an impression on the audience.

Bob, who was at the end of a work day, enjoyed all he could stand for one night so as he departed to find food and rest, I ventured down to the Bluebird to see if I could at least find a place to stand to check out the show. Skip Ewing ("You Had Me From Hello," Kenny Chesney; "Love, Me," Collin Raye), Hugh Prestwood ("The Song Remembers When," Trisha Yearwood) and Aaron Barker ("Love Without End, Amen," George Strait) were on the roster and my friend Dani Carroll was slated to do a song as a special guest of fellow California native Ewing. I’m always glad when more people get to hear Dani, and she demonstrated why she belonged behind the microphone, as everyone obviously agreed. Unfortunately the volume was too low for me to catch most of the between-song patter (my favorite part of these shows, really) from where I was standing; this was unusual given the intimate nature of the club.

Tin Pan South 2007 (Thursday, 3/29)

Thursday saw the traditional round featuring Gordon Kennedy, Wayne Kirkpatrick and Phil Madeira, with special guest, Aussie Melinda Schnieder, joining them under the lamp at Douglas Corner. I skipped the early shows just to make sure I had a good seat for this one, and the plan was a success. The usual genuine air of camaraderie among the three men (GK: “Wayne, do you have any…songs?”) was extended to include Schnieder. Having a mother was a yodeler and a father who was a cop has given her a unique take on life; she shared one song that included just enough yodeling to be fun without being obnoxious. Two things that are sure crowd pleasers at the Grand Ole Opry are yodeling and patriotic songs; this is at least partially the case at Tin Pan South (though for the latter the politics seem to lean the opposite of the Opry crowd).

I shared a table with Jim and his daughter Alyssa from Wisconsin. In town to check out Vanderbilt University for Alyssa, they had come to see Michelle Shocked in the early round, and since they had missed it they stayed for the late show. I told them they were about to have the quintessential Nashville experience. Their nods and smiles throughout the show told me they were far from disappointed.

Madeira played his song “Come On Out With Your Hands Up” (a metaphorical reference to surrendering to a higher power), and shared the story Kennedy’s introduction of the song while performing at a women’s prison: “I guess most of you have heard this phrase before.” And of course, there were the hits; Kennedy led the group in his and Kirkpatrick’s Eric Clapton cut “Change the World” and Kirkpatrick played a solo rendition of “Boondocks” (Little Big Town). I was ready to help out on the last bit (“You get a line/I’ll get a pole…”) so he could add the harmonies for the big finish…no such request was made. Maybe next year.

Tin Pan South 2007 (Wednesday, 3/28)

Since I was unable to get reservations at the Bluebird Café for the late show Wednesday to see my first choice of shows (Mac Davis always offers lots of laughs and familiar songs), it was “lady’s choice” for my friend who accompanied me. She chose well; we saw Jennifer Hanson, Mark Nesler, Blue County, Tim Johnson and “special guest” Blaine Larsen at 12th & Porter. The precious few seats were taken so we headed for a good standing spot.

The congenial and laid-back Nesler comes across onstage as the strong, silent type, but his songs spoke well for him. He presented some of the smash hits he’s written for Tim McGraw (“Just to See You Smile”) and Darryl Worley ("I Miss My Friend”) kicked off the proceedings with “Living and Living Well” (George Strait).

His wife Jennifer Hanson could easily be confused with Jennifer Garner of “Alias”… except I’m not aware of that other Jennifer writing and performing such impressive songs. Tonight’s offerings included “Leave The Pieces” for The Wreckers (Michelle Branch and Jessica Harp) and “Beautiful Goodbye.”

Tim Johnson was next in line and provided solid country songs all night, some serious ("To Do What I Do," Alan Jackson) and some, not so much: his list of “Things That Never Cross a Man’s Mind” included “watchin all this football is sure getting old/Wish I was workin this weekend/Not on the lake reelin’ my line.” That American Idol contestant Kellie Pickler had chosen to record the song seemed to be a pleasant surprise to him.


Musical duo Blue County (Aaron Benward & Scott Reeves) joked among themselves and the rest of the writers enough to dub themselves the “bad kids” of the round. Their rowdy hit “Good Little Girls” would seem to support that (“Good little girls make some mighty wild women”)…but on closer examination (MUCH closer) it’s actually supporting a traditional approach to romance that even a Southern Baptist like myself can say “amen” to: “She's waitin' for a gold ring, before she tries her wings/That's what I'm waitin' for.” (Not that I'd expect to see them play this or some other songs in church; I'm affirming the positive here, not offering an unqualified endorsement). They also showed a serious side, in what I hope will be a “serious” hit: “I Get To,” a song by Sherrie Austin that is about choosing a thankful attitude toward things we easily complain about, such as hugging dad, going to church, etc. (“I don’t have to/I get to”).

Tin Pan South 2007 (Tuesday, 3/27)

On my agenda for Tuesday’s early show, the official kickoff for the Tin Pan show schedule, was a benefit for the New Orleans Songwriting Community. Dr. John, best known for his 70’s hit “Right Place, Wrong Time” was the featured act.

I arrived at the Mercy Lounge venue early to find a relatively short line of pass holders (I was uncharacteristically early), and quite a few planning to pay admission. To add to the potential confusion there was also a contingent of fans in line to see Jon Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora, Jewel and Big & Rich play a benefit at the adjoining venue. As we were sorted out and admitted, I had the thrill of saying hello and choking out “I appreciate your music” to Ray Stevens (“Gitarzan,” “The Streak”) on the way in.

Before the show I met Curtis Anderson, proud father of Brent. This was the first TPS show I remember that was not performed as a round, which put young Anderson and Grayson Capps in the position of opening acts. Not a positive change in my opinion.

Anderson’s voice and songs demonstrated why he was on stage at his first TPS show, though his first song, a ballad, was a less-than-electrifying way to begin the set. Capps, exuding the persona of the hillbilly hippie fresh from his cabin in the Loo-siana swamp, was well-received as much for his politics as for his backwoods-folky songs.

Finally the big blue Baldwin grand was pushed into position for Mr. New Orleans himself. Dr. John’s familiar voice, a jambalaya of funk, growl and gravel, along with his jazzy piano stylings, kept the crowd entertained through a humor-injected and understated performance.

Tin Pan South 2007 (intro)

Tin Pan South 2007 is done and so is the article I submitted to “Country Music Scene,” the newsletter of the New Jersey Country Music Association (motto: “We play everything in Aaaaaaaay!”). Always good to have friends in Northern places (assuming I still have friends anywhere, after that joke).

Anyway I’m posting the intro and then each day separately. We can pretend I did this like an actual daily blog, as I had intended. But my memory hasn’t totally broken down yet, so it should be fairly reliable. Also, I've made some edits and additions here and there, so consider this the "extended remix" version of the story.

For the full TPS 2007 slideshow (and others), see http://picasaweb.google.com/markkellyhall

Tin Pan South 2007

CLICK FOR MORE PICS


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Tin Pan South 2007


Tin Pan South, the annual “songwriters festival” in Nashville presented by the Nashville Songwriters Association International (NSAI), is a study in opposites. It is not unlike what happens in Nashville nearly every evening of the year, since it features groups of professional songwriters taking turns playing their hits and their “hopeful hits” to attentive audiences (often also made up of more songwriters) in nightclubs and cafes. On the other hand, it is a special time because it is part of a week that includes numerous industry events, luncheons and seminars, and a lot of dedicated music fans from all over the U.S. forming friendships; a week that generates real excitement even among the over-hyped and often jaded residents of Music City.

As writer Phil Madeira (“If I Was Jesus,” Toby Keith) points out, Tin Pan South “raises consciousness and money for NSAI and the concerns of that wonderful organization. The fact that every [TPS] performance in every club across town is a benefit speaks volumes for NSAI.”

Canadian native and now Nashville resident Victoria Banks also had high praise for NSAI. “As songwriters, we are a notoriously disorganized and insecure bunch. It comes hand in hand with being creative. We don't tend to stand up for ourselves, and we can easily be taken advantage of in the industry. That's where NSAI steps in and plays a really important role - they stand up for our rights, lobby on our behalf, and keep tabs on changes in legislation that can profoundly affect our ability to make a living.”

For an attendee, especially any who are songwriting enthusiasts or aspiring professionals, Tin Pan is like drinking from a fire hose. The following is a summary of my experience of TPS 2007 (scroll up). See www.tinpansouth.com for more related info.

With a little help from Danielle Peck and friends

Saw a "stellar lineup" of artists last night, at a benefit for Safe Haven hosted by Danielle Peck. Ms. Peck gives the words "lovely and talented" new meaning, and it's always encouraging to see "the beautiful people" (ditto on the giving new meaning line) doing worthy things with their share of public platform. She was obviously taken aback by the packed-house turnout, and confessed that she was nervous for the first time in a long time. But we all got over it, as she introduced Blue County, Carolyn Dawn Johnson (recorded "Complicated," wrote "Single White Female"), Deana Carter ("Strawberry Wine"), and others. Danielle also introduced the mother of eight children (some more shy than others) who had benefited from Safe Haven's help; this woman had the most difficult job of all, given the situation and her presumable lack of stage experience. But she apparently had some church in her background, and used her story to do a little preaching to the relatively attentive crowd. Even got an "Amen."

Danielle made it clear she was genuinely interested in the cause of Safe Haven, and more than just a famous face for hire. This is consistent with what I know of her. She's a friend of a friend, and both she and her mom are very nice in person, even discounting the "Nashville nice" that is a professional necessity--you never know whether or when the scruffy looking person you're sitting next to might hold the reigns of your music career.

Of course, it's difficult for anyone to do anything from a 100% pure motive, given our fallen nature and the moral gravity of the world in which we live. Phoebe explores this idea on a particularly thought-provoking episode of "Friends" (not a phrase you hear every day, right?). And benefits featuring celebrities are especially prone to ego-tripping. Ricky Gervais of the orginal British "Office" sitcom makes this point in his typically uncomfortably funny way in this video, featuring some suprisingly familiar faces (and voices):
Saving Africa Made Easy and Profitable

This is a link to the video in a blog by a friend of mine (I echo his caution about the not-so-family-friendly word here and there, and with his brief commentary on it).

I'm at the top of the Tin Pan South slide, looking down on a week's worth of shows to attend, people to see, pictures and notes to take, cards to hand out, and the songcrafting to be enjoyed. Save me a seat, willya?

Sports, men...and the women who love them

A friend of mine posted a blog about her family’s enthusiasm for that basketball phenomenon known as March Madness and how she and her sister—even though they’re women—fully participate, keeping up with the tournaments, cheering favorite teams, making up brackets, etc. She made a remark that got me thinking, and writing too much for just a comment. She said:

“I know I'm the oddball girl who actually gives a rip about sports, but I can't help but wonder what's wrong with all these men who know nothing about them!”

This isn't technically a question, much less one that demands a response, but for the sake of her (and anyone else’s) further education in the World of Men, I decided to respond anyway. [I started out using a professorial tone as a joke, but it kind of fell apart at some point, I realize. Oh well. Not like I'm being graded on this, right?].

Easy answer: nothing. Meaning, not caring about sports that much does not indicate a deficiency (in testosterone levels or anything else). The expression of manliness takes many forms, some more obvious than others, some more productive, some more alien to the feminine mind (and some even men find pretty gross). Not caring about sports does indicate an availability of resources (time, money, emotional energy, etc.) that can be put toward other activities, such as model shipbuilding, woodworking, auto mechanics, home remodeling, taking trips to Home Depot, and other productive and creative endeavors. In extreme cases and when necessary, for some men it also may leave more time for speaking to their wives or girlfriends, children, extended family members, pets and neighbors. I would think this would be a reason for celebration for any woman, rather than doubt. But there are exceptions to every stereotype.

More in-depth answer: An equally valid, and more compelling, question is "why does anyone care about sports to begin with, especially to the manic level some do, if they're not playing or betting or potentially deriving a direct benefit (financial or otherwise) on the games?"

From what I've seen, for many folks (and especially for females) it's a device for bonding with the father or father figure, whose relational avenues are typically relatively limited due to the inherent quality of men to prefer relating via indirect & external vs. direct & internal means (i.e., they'd rather say stuff like "hand me that wrench" or "how 'bout them Vols" than "I feel like you're upset with me; let's talk it out over an espresso"). For some family members it's their only channel to relationship with that father figure; for others (happily) it's one of many, but a cherished one nonetheless, and the positive associations between sports and "daddy love" can last a lifetime as a normal and very healthy thing.

Same principle, different arena: I know two young women that really liked an alternative Christian rock band called the 77's, though both leaned more toward the style of Amy Grant and Point of Grace. Turns out both liked/loved guys who listened to the 77's. "Fanatics" by association are everywhere.

As for why men like sports, my theory (cobbled together from sources of varying credibility, including John Eldredge, Dr. Phil and my own experience) is that it has to do with the need to belong to a "tribe", and the need for a champion--someone to struggle to victory on behalf of the tribe. The more invested a man is in the tribe (emotionally, temporally, statistically), the more empowered he feels by his inclusion, and the greater the feeling of accomplishment at victory, even if all he did was sit in his easy chair for 3 hours and shout at the TV. And even the "agony of defeat" is tempered by the knowledge that at least he is not facing it alone. Sports is a safe place for a man to express his emotions, his aspiration to greatness, and even his affection for his fellow men (hence the butt-patting that would be completely unacceptable off the field--at least among the men I'd want to associate with).

"Man is never so manly as when he feels deeply, acts boldly, and expresses himself with frankness and with fervor.”
Benjamin Disraeli

Personally, though all the above motivations apply somewhat, and I do like watching football for the game itself, my interests in sports are mostly secondhand. I take a fair amount of interest in Tennessee football, but mostly because I live in Tennessee, I'm a UT grad and I attended games at Neyland Stadium, so that's a direct association to my own experience. I graduated in the then-new basketball arena, and shook Lamar Alexander’s hand (curiously, he didn’t seem to remember this when I met him again not long ago). And I also watch from a professional broadcaster's point of view. During an internship at a local TV station I followed the plays with a camera, up and down the field, for a high school football highlights show. It was long ago, and only for two games, but I've watched the game differently ever since.

But then, as I realized years ago, I had other ways to make sure I was within my dad's viewing range; those included our shared interests in religion and humor, and an enthusiasm for TV. I remember one time how, after I had gone to bed, the irresistible sound of the audience laughing at a comedian on the Tonight Show brought me back to the living room to check it out. My dad started to resist, but gave in pretty quickly when I told him I was just there to hear the jokes, then I'd be off to bed again. He probably sensed I was there not only for my own enjoyment, but also to continue my self-guided course in the art of comedy. And no doubt he could relate. He wasn’t exactly the class clown, but he does enjoy creating a laugh. This is a man who made a “sponge cake” using actual sponges and took it to a church social. I’ve seldom been more proud of him. So who needs to memorize meaningless sports statistics? Or has time? There are important comedic principles to master.

The world of sports has a lot in common with music. They both have their fans who range from the casual to the truly obsessive/compulsive. Each has been elevated to having its own place among "legitimate news" (especially sports) and some even speak as if the related events are "history"...as if the Normandy and British invasions of 1944 and 1964 (respectively) had an equal impact on the world (OK, that's not completely implausible). Ultimately, in the absence of some compelling motivator such as the bonding I've referred to, both music and sports have their useful metaphorical applications to life, but really only matter as much as a person chooses for them to matter. It doesn't affect my life one way or the other (any more than anything else in the world of cause & effect) who wins any national championship, but of course I'd rather Tennessee win. Otherwise, to paraphrase the Preacher, it's all vanity (of course, the Preacher could’ve been the ancient equivalent to the Vandy football fan, I don’t know).

So…how ‘bout them Vols?

Whose leg is being pulled now?

I stepped into my time machine and went back 40 years (I'll save you the math: that's 1967). I found myself in London where--not surprisingly-- I met a Beatles fan, who was fortunately also a science fiction reader. He seemed to have no serious problem accepting, pending further questioning, that I was from the future. He was naturally curious about, among other things, what the Beatles are up to in 2007.

After I gave him the bad news about the breakup, the passing of John and George, and of course, Yoko, I came around to current events. I told him that Paul, after losing his first wife to cancer (after a surprisingly long marriage, for a celebrity), is now in the process of divorcing his second wife, Heather Mills (not related to Hayley, as I clarified). "Too bad, but not a shock, I suppose," he said.

"But wait," I said. Then I shared the highlights of the £1 billion (yes, billion with a "b") divorce battle in which she has accused him of all manner of vices and cruelties, and has portrayed him as being a "vindictive" man who once tried to choke her and even attacked her while she was pregnant.

"Hard to believe it of Paul," he said. "Seems like such a nice young man. But you never know what a man is capable of, and you can't always believe celebrity p.r., good or bad, can you?"

"No," I agreed. "I do have my doubts about her. One of her claims is that she was forced to crawl on her hands and knees up the steps of a plane because they were not wide enough for her wheelchair and Sir Paul had not made other arrangements. Oh, by the way, she has only one leg. And, yes," I responded to his widened eyes, "McCartney was knighted in 1997."

At this point my 1967 friend got a faraway look in his eyes, and forced a friendly but weak smile, as if he had just realized he'd mistaken me for someone else.

"What's really odd," I continued, ignoring his furtive glances all around us, "is that Ms. Mills is slated to be in a dance competition on TV this season."

"Dance?" he said with raised eyebrows. "With one leg?"

"Yes," I replied, "they've made wonderful advances in prosthetics these days."

"Oh, of course," he said, nodding.

I mentioned that I saw her on an entertainment news program (ignoring him when he interrupted with "A whole program about entertainment?") where she said that her main concern was that her leg wouldn't fall off during the dances.

"Well, surely not many will be watching," he reasoned, amused.

"Actually it's one of the highest-rated reality shows on TV, where famous and semi-famous actors, singers and athletes pair up with expert dancers to compete before judges, including the viewing audience. " After I explained what reality TV is and assured him that some of the programs are pretty good, he seemed somewhat less skeptical.

"Well, I suppose teenagers like to watch these shows to learn the latest moves so they can impress the ladies at the clubs," he offered.

"Wellll, maybe," I responded. "But it's actually ballroom dancing; the kind no one generally does without intensive training and only in a limited number of places."

"Hmm," he mused, "very interesting." Then he burst out laughing. "Bub, I must admit you almost had me, but you went just a tad too far with that last bit about a one-legged soon-to-be-ex of 'Sir' Paul McCartney competing in a 'popular' ballroom-dancing telly program!" He shook his head slowly. "Sir, I was born at night, but it wasn't last night! Besides, I can't believe that even in 2007 the BBC would ever air such rot."

"BBC?" I said. "This is American television, not the BBC."

A wide smile spread across his face. "America? Oh, I see. Well, then, it all makes sense now!" He slapped me on the back like an old friend and looked at me with renewed interest. "So, what year do you think you might be visiting next?"

And then I woke up.

When life hands you lemons...

...you make lemonade. These folks must've had such a whopping big batch, they started a festival so they could share it with their neighbors. It was a pretty big lemon, after all. Not like you ever really need a reason to have a party in Hawaii (you're in HAWAII!).

Takes a tumble, doesn't stumble

I had a "DOH!!" moment this morning when I realized I'd left my SanDisk jump drive in my jeans pocket. The jeans were in the dryer at the time (I've found a dry is as good as a wash for jeans, at least after one wear, especially if you add a dryer sheet). This exact potential hazard had crossed my mind the other day when I realized I the jump drive wasn't in its usual possible places, and must be in the pocket of the jeans on my floor (awaiting aforementioned drying).

The good news is when I stuck the drive into my Mac at work this morning, it worked perfectly. Technology can be surprisingly reliable; gotta be thankful for that. And toasty-warm jeans in the morning, can't forget those.

Have fun, do good

The Belmont Coalition Against Genocide
presents a
Benefit for Darfur, Sudan
Friday, March 16th
7:00-9:00pm

Edgehill Studios Cafe
1201 Villa Place, Nashville, TN
one block off of Music Row)


Admission:
$5 donation toward humanitarian aid and refugee assistance

Featuring:
isHesafe
Leslie McClure and band
Andrew Palamara
Blue-Eyed Grass

Special Guest Speaker:
Gatluak Thack
Executive Director of Nashville's Sudanese Refugee Center

For more info:
call Edgehill Studios Cafe at 615-301-8539
www.edgehillstudios.com
or e-mail Ali Baldwin at baldwina@pop.belmont.edu

Reconnecting with my songwriting roots

Enjoyed a trip back to the ol' stomping grounds of Chattanooga last weekend. I attended a songwriting seminar presented by the NSAI Chattanooga workshop, featuring pro writers Rodney Clawson ("Amarillo Sky," "Sweet Southern Comfort") and Brian White ("Rough And Ready," various songs by top CCM artists). The event was held at the church building the NSAI group uses for meetings. I led music there for a couple of years and was the "hookup" for the meeting space for the group, of which I was co-coordinator. I'm really happy to know my "legacy" of sorts endures.

I was interested--and pleased--to see the upgrades in the building, now that the former church has become a "satellite" of a larger church in Chickamauga (led by a former youth director and pastor of mine...these connections never end).

The format of the seminar was very close to what I did in Cape Town: all-day seminar (10 - 4), with expert advice and a songwriting exercise, and then a 7 pm coffeehouse concert featuring the guest writers plus "selected" attendees (the picture shows Rodney and Brian at Mocha Joe's in St. Elmo).

I chose to pretend I didn't know everything about songwriting already (as if I had to) and participate as a student. It was good for me. The group co-write (they split us up into knots of 3 or 4 with a short list of titles to choose from & one hour to write) went OK and it was fun to see how the 4 our group worked together. I didn't feel like we were always on the same page on the process, and it seemed to me the group had a hard time committing to an approach (or even a title), so my control-freak nature was a little frustrated while my laid-back nature kind of enjoyed the unpredictability of the whole thing. The results were OK given the circumstances (strangers trying to come up with something brilliant in a short time); the point was the educational value, and there was plenty of that.

I had the pro's critique "Texas Hold 'Em." One of those I thought I was done with. I was still open to their input but as we all do in these situations, I was actually hoping they'd say "I have to have a copy of that for so-and-so" and that would launch me into a writing career with a 10am-3pm workday (when I felt like working that hard). No such luck on that so far, but they did make some valid points and got my wheels going on a re-write, which I've done (though I'm still open to improving it).

The night before the seminar I dropped into American Pie on Hixson Pike to witness songwriter Roger Alan Wade in action. Like Ben Folds, Roger's got some stuff I wouldn't recommend (being a Baptist and all) but I admire his genius as a lyricist, regardless. I think that has to do with redemption, but I couldn't argue the point very well for very long. His "Country State of Mind" was a Hank Wms. Jr. co-write and hit, and his "If You're Gonna Be Dumb, You Gotta Be Tough" is, appropriately, in the Jackass movie (cousin Johnny Knoxville was the hookup on that). But what struck me was how Roger has poured his heart and soul and talent into songs about things and places that only a relatively small group of folks could really appreciate, such as in "Down Brainerd Road." Not the formula for radio hits, but what a gift to hear your own life experiences in these songs--and brilliant ones at that. It makes them more valuable, not less. Roger sheepishly apologized for the problems he was having with the sound system when I spoke to him after his set, but it really only seemed a natural match of a raunchy sound for raunchy songs.

Overall, the weekend was a nice reminder of how far I've come, but also how far I have yet to go, musically and otherwise.

But how's her casserole?

Since my degree from UT is in broadcasting, what most people call "watching the tube," I call "post-graduate work." There are a couple of programs that are "must-see TV": "30 Rock," a sitcom, and the endangered comedy-drama "Studio 60" (almost no one uses the full title "Studio 60 On the Sunset Strip"). Both are on NBC, both started the same season and each is about the backstage (and some onstage) goings-on around a fictional sketch show like "Saturday Night Live." Very odd already. The show-about-a-show thing has been hot since Shakespeare (when it was "play-within-a-play"), and still results in fun twists but also confusing conversation when talking about them, so try to keep up.

I've been a fan of SNL since the 70's, not counting several seasons in the 80's where I didn't watch much and have found via reruns how little I was missing. I also like behind-the-scenes stuff in general, as well as well-written dialogue. So both of these shows are made for me.

"Studio 60" is written by Aaron Sorkin of "West Wing" fame (or as much fame as a writer gets). The dialogue in this show meets the "well-written" standard, other than being a little manic and self-consciously clever to the point of being cute (think "Gilmore Girls").

One character that is especially interesting is Harriet, the overtly Christian (Southern Baptist, even) player on the show-within-the-show. She has a romantic "history" with Matt, the head writer. The fact that he's Jewish has been a point of contention for obvious reasons, and now that he's her boss makes for even more potential for conflict (the basis of good storytelling).

Though I appreciate that hers has been more true-to-life than most portrayals of Christians on network TV, I've felt the references are clunky and obvious; kind of like someone using "cowboy boots" in a song title and thinking that makes it country.

I found out via a talk show she was on that actress/singer Kristin Chenoweth is the original role model for Harriet. She and Sorkin had a romance in real life, so there's a foundation of reality for the show. I always figured it was at least partially based on Victoria Jackson from the 80's SNL, and was happy to be proven right in this article:

http://www.wittenburgdoor.com/archives/studio60.html

It's an interview by The Door (a Christian satire magazine that cracks me up and offends me, alternately and occasionally at the same time) with Aaron Sorkin's Studio 60 partner in success Thomas Schlamme, and with Sarah Paulson who plays the above-mentioned Harriet.

One thing the interview made me realize is that, instead of her portrayal of a Christian that is clunky, it may be the attitude that the character Matt has toward her on the show--which is apparently by design of the writers (Sorkin et al). Most of the cliches are in what he says, not in what she does or says.

Like most Christians, it bothers me even to see anyone, fictional or real, familiar or stranger, who professes to be a Christian but does not meet what I would consider the minimum standards of Christian thought and behavior (not that I'm even close to perfect myself, but we all apply standards to ourselves and others whether consciously or not); it's hard enough to find one that isn't portrayed as an idiot or a jerk. This is partly a genuine concern for other people--that they will make real-life bad decisions based on the images they see on screen. And there's the "p.r." concern; what will they think of us, is it accurate, etc. I'm also concerned about what they think of ME. On the one hand, I'm offended when Christians are slighted en masse; on the other hand, I can see why someone would want to slam Christianity if Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson or the purple-haired ditz on TBN are all they have to go by. To the credit of Sorkin and crew, they try harder than most, with better results than most.

The show challenges me to reconsider whether all my standards are really as essential as I tend to believe, or are they too surface to matter anyway, compared to the one Essential himself. And it's debatable as to whether it really matters what is said on TV about Christians or anyone else. It doesn't change the facts, and at its worst it's keeping a very important issue in the viewer's mind, as well as confirming what the Bible says about the ongoing spiritual conflict we're all involved in, despite our tendency to ignore it (partially thanks to TV).

The weak point of "Studio 60," especially compared with a topic like the international politics of a "West Wing," is that it's hard not to want to say "lighten up, people, it's just a TV show." Well, maybe it is...and maybe it ain't.

Tips from the piano man: Billy Joel

Billy Joel has some really insightful and potentially helpful things to say in this article about writing songs.

Too bad I didn't get to see him tonight at the Gaylord.

I worked with a guy once who had been a waiter in NYC (he actually used the phrase "fuhgeddaboddit" with no irony intended). He said Billy Joel was a great guy to wait on. That's nice to hear. He also said Bill Murray was kind of rude. That's no surprise. I won't hold it against Mr. Murray; in fact, many of his roles call for that image anyway ("Groundhog Day," for example).

"Dear Anna"

(by Mark Kelly Hall)

Dear Anna
I'm sorry for the way you had to leave us
I saw your dazed expression on the news
The imitation hero to the end
I wonder if you knew your time was near
In many ways you'd checked out long ago

You offered up your dignity to strangers
Tabloid headline readers, channel changers
They made an idol of your golden image
And reality was history for you


Dear Anna
I'm sorry for the ones who would admire you
For all the twisted dreams they would aspire to
And trade their very souls to find a name
With no one but their empty selves to blame
We are all so easily deceived

You told your story like a dirty joke
Your pain became a punchline, and when the laughter
broke
You couldn't hide from all those hungry eyes
That seldom saw beneath your veil of skin


Dear Anna
I'm sorry for the things I said about you
It's too easy to be cynical these days
But the hope I cling to tells a higher truth
So neither of us has a good excuse
Both victims of our choices and the sin that weighs us
down

You lost a husband, and then a son
You fought for fame and fortune and you almost won
I guess you never found what you were missing
The father to the child you always were


Dear Anna
I'm sorry



© 2007 Mark Kelly Hall

"Dear Anna"; the overclarification

I have found I have a sizable capacity for offering both empathy and criticism, though not usually at the same time. My understanding of the truth and my faith tells me there is a place for both if applied in the right spirit. I fail often on getting the timing and spirit right. Sometimes I hold certain issues or people up to scrutiny and comment, often to clarify the truth (hence this blog), but as often when a show of compassion would be more appropriate. Sometimes I remember we are all "merely dust" and choose a conciliatory stance, or hesitate to say what I really think for fear of hurting feelings or fear of rejection. My tendency is to find the sliver of truth in the opposite of whatever view is being presented, and champion that. Makes me appear insightful, if not obstinate. "Speaking the truth in love" is a skill in which we could all probably use some improvement.

I think maybe this piece (scroll up or click here to see it) falls into both categories, critique and compassion. A new female acquaintance declared a casual admiration for Anna Nicole Smith. This made me realize that 1) our values and perspectives must be farther apart than I thought and 2) maybe she saw something I didn't and should have (the compassion thing; women seem to rule this area) OR maybe she’s in the same fog as Anna Nicole was, just not as thick. And maybe we all are. Since it's the story we habitual media consumers/critics can't (won't?) escape, I felt like responding to what I've seen and heard.

I'm still not sure what to think of “Dear Anna”…whether it’s a lyric or a poem or neither…whether it’s finished…whether it’s just another drop in an overfull ocean of commentary…but given the (hopefully) short shelf life of the subject, I'm posting it here in case someone might find it worthwhile. Or at least to help me justify the time I spent on it as more than just a writing exercise.

I should make it clear that my portrayal of Smith's fans is an exaggeration to make a point about the human condition, not a direct reference to my "acquaintance"; she just provided the spark that started the creative flame. Still, I doubt this will put me into her "top 8" on the slim chance she ever sees it.

And, yes, I do realize the fact that, in writing this ambivalent and possibly melodramatic ode to Anna Nicole Smith that portrays her as a Marilyn Monroe wannabe who was a willing victim of her own fame, I may seem like an Elton John wannabe without the glitter or piano...but I promise, I admire his talent and success, but I definitely don't want to be him. And who wants to live in Atlanta, anyway?

Sometimes funny...sometimes not so much

You never know what's going on behind the scenes...and behind the eyes. I ran across a blog by comic actress Sherri Shepherd ("Less Than Perfect", and recently "30 Rock") about her friend Andy Dick (both pictured here in an ABC/Disney parade):

My Love...My Heart...My Tears are for Andy

I saw Sherri at a Christian Comedy Association (really!) convention in Murfreesboro, TN, two or three years ago. I was there to visit with another couple of comic friends of mine. Sherri was as hilarious onstage as you would imagine. Her own "sadness behind the laughter" apparently involves divorce, if her comedy routine then and her myspace page now are to be believed. Must be tough to be a comic when you don't feel like being funny.

In case you don't know what Sherri's talking about, according to Jimmy Kimmel something Andy Dick took or drank (or both) backstage began to kick in once his own interview was done and Ivanka Trump was next to him. Here's the video.

Brilliant! (all things considered)

I just got home from the sneak preview (or simply "sneak" in movie-people lingo) of "Music and Lyrics" and I'm trying to resist overstating things, but it may be tough. Guess this is where the term "feel-good movie" came from.

Hugh Grant portrays a former 80's pop star (think George Michael) given a chance to write a new hit song for current chart-topper Cora (think Shakira meets Dido) and discovers that his temporary plant-care assistant (played by Drew Barrymore) may have just the untapped lyrical expertise to do the job.

Yes, it's a bit of a chick flick (that sounds more appropriate with a British accent...try it...see?); yes, it's fairly predictable once it gets going; yes, there's an apparently-obligatory plot element that I object to on moral grounds, not to mention a flaw in versimilitude and the previously-mentioned predictability factor (it won't spoil the plot if I tell you, yes, they sleep together; gee, who would'a thought), and some might find it a little long.

HOWEVER, I've got a high threshold for the chick flick as long as it's well-done, and especially if the female characters are appealing (who couldn't love E.T.'s lil' pal Drew? And no further comment on the actress playing Cora the dance-pop star; I'll leave it at "appealing"). And the storyline is familiar but in a satisfying way (I order the same thing at each fast-food joint I go to). And I don't expect Hollywood to rise far above their own moral standards, though it would be refreshing. And I was enjoying it so much I didn't get bored with the length.

It's no "Citizen Kane," but the positives are many, and will be especially appreciated by anyone who has ever written or tried to write or thought about writing a song, or been hesitant to try to do anything out of fear of failure or resignation to lowered expectations or "the way things are." This should be a very popular film for the Nashville crowd. And, if you're an 80's music fan and/or you've ever cowered in a restaurant bathroom (or similar awkward location) to hide from a former flame, you'll relate even better.

I especially like the comparison Barrymore's character makes between music and romance; the music is the physical, chemical attraction and excitement that generally comes first, and the lyrics correspond to really getting to know the person, communication...the substance of a relationship. But both "need" each other to be complete. Being stronger on the lyrical side than the music, I approve. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've made that comparison myself at some point. Of course I may have been borrowing from ultraconservative teacher Bill Gothard, who claimed that from a biblical point of view the rhythm corresponded to the sensual, the harmony to the emotional, and the melody to the spiritual. Not a bad analagy (but not biblical, in my humble and correct opinion) but the trouble was he was trying to use it to prove why rock music was bad for you, being based on the sensual. Nice try, Bill, wherever you are. I didn't buy it in college and I don't buy it now.

As an extra bonus for my experience of the film, I was proud of myself for identifying the band performing the closing-credits song. I'll leave that one for the truly dedicated music showoffs.

>>>MORE SONGWRITING RELATED FILMS<<<
The Thing Called Love (1993) Aspiring songwriters in Nashville try to break into the biz via the Bluebird Cafe (Sandra Bullock!)
Ishtar (1987) Excruciatingly bad-on-purpose songs by Paul Williams ("Rainbow Connection, " "We've Only Just Begun") Hilarious!
Songcatcher (2000)
Songwriter (1984)

The occasional difference between "the right" and the truth

Apparently the sketches on Saturday Night Live are more truthful than some folks realize.

I ran across these behind-the-scenes glimpses at what some of my friends consider a healthy alternative to the "liberal media." I should clarify that most of my friends are, like me, white Southern American Christians who are traditional and conservative in lifestyle and outlook, but few of any of us easily fit the stereotype those terms evoke.

These anecdotes should affirm what I've said for a long time: that the best way to view ANYTHING on TV, the radio, in the press--pretty much anywhere on a screen or in print--is with a healthy skepticism, remembering that the info is presented by fallible humans (some more fallible than others), many of whom are easily (even eagerly) biased by various political, financial and ego-based influences. Of course these articles are best read with that in mind as well. Sola scriptura, y'all.

From The Nation:
"My First (and Last) Time With Bill O'Reilly" by David Cole

AND

Excerpted from Ben Witherington's blog post titled:
The Virginal Conception and Political Deception
(a very reasonable guy in my limited view).

My experience with the old non-cable networks, including working with Bob Simon and Miguel Sancho at CBS, Stone Phillips at NBC and Peter Jennings and Liz Vargas at ABC has been at the other end of the spectrum from my experience with working with one particular Fox show---the O Reilly show.

For an hour before an interview I was to do on O'Reilly at Easter time a couple of years ago, I was drilled by the producer on the cell phone about not quoting the Bible, not saying anything theological, and only answering the direct questions of O' Reilly succinctly. After listening to this lecture politely I finally asked the producer wasn't he concerned about offending his conservative Christian audience by stifling me and not really allowing me to share what I was there on the show to share about Jesus' bodily resurrection. His response was chilling-- "we are more worried about offending our secular conservative audience." I guess he assumed that conservative Christians have no other channel or programs to turn to for their information so he was less worried about offending them.

And then the interview happened. O' Reilly asked me if I had seen the Shroud of Turin. I simply said no as did the other guest, John Dominic Crossan. He then went on about having seen it. It seemed to me like the lecture I got was all about not showing up O'Reilly, and about stroking his ego, as apparently he doesn't know much of the Bible or the history of the study of the resurrection, but he had seen the Shroud in Turin.

In the old sense of the word 'liberal' as in open-minded and trying to be fair I would much prefer the 'liberal' networks to this, as they allow you to have your say. Yes, I often disagree with some of the politics and viewpoints I hear from those folks, but frankly I want a 'free' press to be 'free'-- not pre-censored like that Fox show. I want to hear a variety of points of view, and I want to make up my own mind. I frankly don't trust folks who are prepared to report false facts for the sake of their own opinions, regardless of whether I agree with some of their other views or not.

Kinda makes me wonder if what ol' Bill saw was really the Shroud of Turin or just some bedsheet someone didn't change for a long time. Unfortunately it seems to be a pattern that a lack of humility and a lack of knowledge often lead to successful stupidity.

Boundaries

Been thinking a lot about boundaries lately. As the Colts proved twice during the Super Bowl (this is a contest between two sports teams; perhaps you've heard of it?), it can be a tough call to make, even after the flag is thrown, as to whether someone has crossed a line. This is true for relationships as well as football (and now we've hooked the men AND the women in our introduction; that's good writin', y'all! Now if I could just find a picture of Kelvin Hayden's foot nearly touching that white line....).

So think: have you found yourself on the wrong side of someone's boundaries recently? Or found them crossing yours?

I'll share my answer to the 2nd question here; the 1st one may require more probing on your part (possibly over dinner, on your tab).

I participate in a Yahoo group that came about when a message board was being shut down by the Christian magazine that hosted it, and one of the regulars started this "lifeboat" so those interested could continue the discussion. We're kind of like the survivors on "Lost," only we have easier access to shower facilities.

Anyway, one very eager participant in the message board who followed the faithful few to Yahoo has now been shut out of our small "club." His offense was that he tended to use any statement as a takeoff point to hammer his favorite one-point cautionary sermon on a very personal subject (you guessed it--sex; specifically sex outside of marriage). No matter how many times he was rebuked by the other participants for his inappropriate finger-wagging to people who already agreed with his stance (many of whom probably knew more than him about the subject), he never seemed to understand how he was not only preaching to the choir, he was interrupting choir practice to do so. His behavior seemed to go beyond being socially clumsy to being downright nuts at times. Plus his spelling and grammar were atrocious, which makes a bigger difference if writing is the basis of your interaction with someone.

Since he insisted on bringing his ranting into the Yahoo group even after being warned, the person who had started the group--a very sensitive woman--finally did the unpleasant task of ejecting him from the discussion. Most of us were supportive though some were less so, with some cyber-drama ensuing.

This "recent unpleasantness" (as the genteel diehard Confederate sympathizer referred to the Civil War) made me think of a book called "Boundaries: When to Say YES, When to Say NO, To Take Control of Your Life" by Dr. Henry Cloud.

Here's an article by the same name by the author and his business partner that covers the basic points of the topic.

The article's authors make some very insightful comparisons between proper and improper behavior regarding various lines of demarcation between an individual and other people. "Boundaries give us a sense of what is part of us and what is not part of us, what we will allow and what we won’t, what we will choose to do and what we will choose not to do."

I heard from either these guys or elsewhere that people who were spoiled are aware when they're being selfish or rude, while people who were deprived or mistreated are not aware, because they haven't been taught (by the way they were treated) proper boundaries. This helps me understand when others offend me, and to keep my own feet on the right side of the chalk lines.

There could be a very humanistic application of the principles in this article--"don't let anyone treat you as if you're anything less than #1!" This would preclude voluntary self-sacrifice, including that of Jesus. But self-sacrifice is not spiritual if we are unable to do anything else (that's codependency), so it's a worthy topic.

Also, I think a couple of statements in the article could use some clarification, such as under "Thoughts" when they say "We need to give people the right to their own thoughts and interpretations and not try to change them." I think it's safe to assume they are referring to a situation where you refuse to accept that someone disagrees with you even after you've presented your views and discussed it. Otherwise this would have to rule out pretty much all communication, since it is made up of attempting to impart knowledge (every bit of which "changes" our view of the world if only in a small way) or persuade opinion, including everything from sermons to friendly arguments (and including this blog). So I'm sure that's not what they meant. Similarly, a songwriting hero of mine, Pierce Pettis ("You Move Me") says emphatically we shouldn' t "preach" in a song, but rather affirm the truths people are already aware of; but this would make Bob Dylan a bad writer, as well as Pierce himself, and that's definitely not true in either case.

The other point that might need to be clarified is under "Body." The authors do not bother to mention that there are certain times when "crossing over boundaries" in that arena is voluntary and quite welcome (sometimes darn exciting) and therefore a good and blessed thing. I'll trust I don't need to be any more specific on this.

So, again, how's YOUR game? Seen any yellow hankies at your feet lately? Or been the cause of any? Either way, thank God for grace when it's your offenses under the scrutiny of the instant replay. Penalties can be hell. (Guess that's 5 yards for roughing the metaphor).

Cape Town Meets Music City

Had a good time at Lyrix on Wed. night (Jan. 31), doing the writers round I put together (I've given up figuring out whether there should be an apostrophe--it's just easier to consider it a non-possessive adjective). Joni Bishop has such an inviting, easy style; when she starts playing you tend to say "Ah, THIS is what I wanted to hear, and didn't even realize it." And Matt Allison was as much the polished pro as ever as he performed his obliquely spiritual and mesmerizing tunes. You would never have known (if I hadn't shared it with everyone) that he had been stressed out earlier by an incident with a non-cooperative gas pump, made more frustrating by his limited experience with pumping his own gas--they leave this to the professionals in Africa. He was under the impression that pressing the service button would actually produce...service. Live and learn, Matt!

Heather's next step toward stardom

I first met Heather Morgan during my stint as membership assistant at the Nashville Songwriters Assn. Int'nat'l (NSAI). There is a regular flow of songwriters through that office, incl. the up and coming, the down and out, and the don't-have-a-clue-that-they-don't-have-a-chance. Heather displayed more signs of "success in progress" than most; she had established a base in Dallas and was making the next logical step. I was glad to be witness to it, and maybe give it a nudge here and there on its way--not that she needed me, of course. It wasn't long before she was signed to a publishing deal with Warner-Chappell, which was an achievement in itself, but I didn't doubt she/they had an eye on even bigger things for her as a artist. The publishers like to get the most for their money and effort, and they've found it's easier to get their songs recorded if their own writers are doing the recording and performing.

Last Tuesday (Jan. 30) I got to see the next step as Heather performed with a band for some industry folks (including Tracy Gershon of Sony Music and former judge for Nashville Star, one of the few luminaries I actually recognize at these things).

Because I was uncharacteristically on time, I managed to get a seat, and had the pleasure of sharing a table with Angelique and Devon of Crowded House Entertainment. "Professional music fan" (read his blog, you'll see what I mean) John A. joined us later. Not only did I have a great vantage point for photos but I felt like I was really part of the "in crowd."

Heather seemed very comfortable on stage, and meshed well with the band. She managed to display the silly side of her charm when she confessed she realized halfway into a song she had not gotten rid of all her gum, and was afraid it might be projected into the audience, but managed to swallow it thereby averting disaster. Her performance was proof to me that, although her style is left of center of pop-country, it is as accessible as anything on the radio, and I'd say it's ahead of the curve in many ways.

I finally got to meet Heather's mom, who was well aware of me via my e-mails to Heather (as part of Heather's aforementioned home base of support), and I'm pretty sure she's seen the lyrics to a song of mine about a songwriter named Heather who arrives at her mother's deathbed "just in time." That last part is pure fiction...though I did read an article after I wrote the song where another musician in town found herself in a similar situation...strange. But Mom looked perfectly healthy, and was very kind, and of course proud as a peacock to be there for Heather's "coming up" performance. I told her I look forward to being part of the "entourage"--preferably with my own vehicle. I don't see me doing the bus thing. I'm sure Heather will be able to afford it.

A sad passing, but not without joy

A South African acquaintance of mine has reached the place he spent so much time telling others about: heaven.

Pastor Philip Mokson of Masiphumelele Baptist Church was shot to death Sunday evening during a Bible study at his church building by a young man who had been attending the church. From the press release posted on the CCFm website:

On Monday evening, 22 January 2007, at 8:05pm, one of the regular attendees of the Masiphumelele Baptist Church shot dead the Pastor of the Masiphumelele Baptist Church and injured a young woman attendee. He then turned the gun on himself and killed himself.

A group of young people were having a Bible study in the Church hall when this man left the group and returned a few moments later firing a gun. A number of shots were fired and Pastor Philip Mokson was killed at the scene in the Church. The perpertrator then fired on a young woman who is in a very serious condition in Groote Schuur Hospital. The rest of the attendees fled the building and then the perpetrator turned the gun on himself.

Pastor Philip Mokson had served this community from its inception, for 18 years. He was a much loved and highly respected man. He was an extremely active Pastor, involved in bringing peace and justice to the community over the years. He was to be found at every community emergency or tragedy, rendering help and assistance. The community regularly called on him for his intervention. He was actively involved in Living Hope Community Centre, a health based NGO in the area. Pastor Philip was a founder Trustee of Radio Fish Hoek/CCFm and has continued to faithfully serve the Radio CCFm Board of Trustees to date.

Hundreds of members of the community gathered around the church and kept vigil until the early hours of this morning. The community of Masiphumlelele responded with great dignity and quiet reverence for the man that they all loved dearly, as paramedics and Police did their work.

This tragic incident is in no way like many of the township crimes of which we are so familiar. It came about as a result of a severely depressed man who members of the community were seeking to help.

Pastor Philip and the church had been offering help to the young man, who suffered from severe depression, as best they could.

I've spent many hours in this little building in the township of Masiphumelele, in the Cape Town area, leading music and coloring with the kids during the Children's Clubs held there, as well as attending services. When I was there in Dec. with the Extreme Response team, Pastor Philip greeted me with a big smile and a hug; I was a little surprised he recognized me. African men can be hard to read, so you never know what impression you're making on them. From the above it's clear Pastor Philip made quite an impression on his community, due to his passionate love for God and people.

I'm sure he would not have chosen to go at the time and in the way he did, but I have to believe he would have no regrets about his choices to serve his Lord and his community that put him in harm's way that evening.

I don't want to make it seem like I think Pastor Philip was a perfect man, or someone to be worshiped; he was human, after all. But he did set a fine example just in being there and following God as best he could, and keeping at it, and recruiting others' help in the work. Makes me want to "trim the fat" in my own life, and do what's really important.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."
Jim Elliot, missionary

The Hummer = The Mullet

Someone has to say it (OK, I have to say it): the Hummer is the modern-day automotive equivalent to the mullet.


Consider:

One is a grotesque novelty hairstyle that even in its day was only considered cool by people who were obviously going to great lengths to be considered cool. And often failing. Substitute “vehicle” for “hairstyle” above.

For every person that has had to stifle an exclamation of admiration upon seeing said hairstyle/vehicle, there are at least 3 who have had to stifle a giggle.

People who wore mullets were trying to express rebellion…by following a trend. People who drive Hummers…I don’t know why people drive Hummers, but I suspect they think they’re expressing unity with our soldiers, most of whom wouldn’t have to be driving military Hummers abroad if so many people weren’t wasting gas driving suburbanized Hummers at home.

The words have a lot in common, spelling-wise: consonant, “u”, double consonant, “e”, consonant.

Billy Ray Cyrus has tried to turn all the mullet jokes into an opportunity by poking fun at it in a song: “I Want My Mullet Back.” Wonder how long it will take today’s Hummer drivers to ask themselves “What was I thinking?” I know I’m already wondering that about them myself. Only I have a feeling they're going to be singing something more along the lines of "I Want the Incredible Amount of Money I Wasted On Gas Back."

Cape Town Meets Music City, Jan. 31, 9:30

See you there!

Reason # 3,457 to live in Nashville

You get to see shows like this for free. In last week's taping of CMT's "Crossroads" Bruce Hornsby and Ricky Skaggs combined their formidable musical talents for one of the best unlikely combinations since peanut butter and chocolate.

When my friend and I first arrived we found it was standing room only (curses to my penchant for taking longer-than-intended naps!), and I thought "well, that's it, no way this will be worth standing up the whole time." I was wrong.

The music touched both ends of the spectrum from the ridiculous (bluegrass version of Rick James' "Super Freak") to the sublime (well, just about everything, but especially the minor-key and yet more introspective version of "Mandolin Rain").

They've done an album together already, so there was already a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect between the two. There was a moment of uncertainty after one of the fast bluegrass numbers, when Hornsby suggested they might want to do it again, since it had taken on a frenetic tempo toward the end. Skaggs' reply was basically "that's how it happens in bluegrass sometimes" and seemed happy with the first take, but he was open to Hornsby's opinion. After a slightly awkward and polite exchange ("what do you think?" and "well, if you want to"), they decided they would probably do it again, but after another song or two. Hornsby joked that he might as well take his pants off in front of everyone, given how exposed he felt having a conversation like that onstage in the middle of the show with the audience listening. Anyway, the 2nd time they did it, it was better though slightly less spontaneous, even though the crowd tried to recreate the enthusiasm as best we could. "Surprise" guest vocalist John Anderson got a better reception the 2nd time around (now that everyone realized who he was).

When it was over I felt the urge to go find a piano and write a bluegrass song. But since I don't have a piano I just went home.

Broken dolls, broken dreams

An essay by a fellow blogger (see her post called "Rubber Cement") made me think of a scene in the film "The Homecoming" (TV's "The Waltons" was based on the film, or the same book as the film). The kids go out to find a missionary in town who they hear is giving away toys to kids; the catch is they have to recite a Bible verse. Mary Ellen quickly feeds the younger kids verses, including one for Elizabeth, the youngest; it was either "Jesus wept" (John 11:35) or something inappropriate from the Song of Solomon or somewhere, I can't recall (feel free to correct me on the details here).

The other kids gather around as Elizabeth eagerly rips open her package to find a broken doll. Horrified, she screams "It's dead!" and sobs into her brother's comforting arms, and throws the doll down heartbroken.

Being the youngest, and having lived part of my life on a farm of sorts, I could relate to Elizabeth (despite the gender difference). As a grownup (more or less) I had--or almost had--a relationship that reminded me of this scene when it went bad fresh out of the wrapper (so to speak). These days, having lived with myself as long as I have--plenty long enough to be very familiar with my own shortcomings--I wonder which is worse: to receive the broken doll...or to BE the doll. Which we all are, in one way or another, at some point (Romans 3:23).

As my virtual acqaintance (also named Elizabeth, coincidentally) observed on her blog, sometimes things are broken beyond repair...dolls....dishes...relationships. Sometimes even after the attempt to fix it, the thing still has the cracks and chinks that remind you of the damage. I believe sometimes the best way to love someone is from a distance (with the aid of a restraining order, if necessary). Physical abuse is one of those situations. But it seems that our disposable plastic society has trained us to lean toward "out with old, in with the new" more often than "make do," with very little reason other than boredom or minor irritation with the person or object in question. "Irreconcilable differences" is often a crock. A very wise man once told me that ultimately the only valid criteria for a healthy relationship is a surrendered attitude; surrendered to God, surrendered to the other person.

So here's hoping for a healthy dose of unconditional surrender from--and for--all my "Elizabeths" this year.

And I'm not ashamed to admit it

My name in pixels! I'm Somebody!

I took time out of my busy schedule of blogging and checking e-mails to respond to a request from Amazon.com to review a recent CD purchase: "Magic: The Very Best of Olivia Newton-John." I know what you're saying; "So has she located her boyfriend yet? That'd be some magic right there." But let's stay on the subject.

I had fun putting my professional journalism training to use for a purpose that may not rate up there with mission work or serving the homeless, but I've had some good feedback on stuff I've written so maybe it'll bring a smile to someone's face. Plus it may just encourage all the other guys out there who are hesitant to admit they like music that may be perceived as schmaltzy, feminine or in any way not cool.

I'm at the point where I can like what I like because I like it, not because some 23-year-old with his first real job as a writer who happens to know 3 guitar chords tells me in a magazine I ought to like it. Fact is, ON-J was good friends with Karen Carpenter, and everyone's out of the closet on liking the Carpenters these days, so regardless I think I'm on safe ground here.

Can't wait to get that fat check from Amazon for the review; I assume they pay a standard rate, based on views or something. Right? Right? What?

CLICK HERE TO READ MY REVIEW

She's no Celine Dion...

...and NO ONE is MORE THANKFUL than I am for that! And even though she sings country, Canada native Kelly Archer rocks. Tells funny stories about her family, too. Inspires other songwriters to write songs and blogs and stuff in the middle of the night. Will probably be responsible for reviving Jo Dee Messina's radio presence soon, and may very well be famous herself someday (unfortunately these things aren't based on talent alone). And I'm betting she'll still be a nice person. And I'll be able to say I knew her when.

Sights and sounds of the workshop

Here are some quick highlights of the Summer Songwriting Workshop and concert we did at CCFm in Cape Town on Dec. 2, 2006. You get a quick glimpse of the group writing process and then the latter part of what they came up with together. I regret not getting the whole song but this video gives a sense of the enthusiasm in the room over their new creation.

My ego prompts me to explain that I do realize my broadcasting degree is not necessarily evident in the production values. I'm still learning to use a) my camera for video b) the editing programs (video and audio) in my new computer c) YouTube and d) Blogger for posting. Enough with the disclaimers. (In MY day, we didn't have any fancy schmancy mmblgghh....).


SEE MORE ABOUT MY SOUTH AFRICA TRIP ON THIS BLOG, POSTED OCT.-DEC. 2006

Tanned, Rested and Ready

Well, rested, anyway. That’s how I’ve started off 2007. I had 2 weeks off from the fulltime job (which at this time of year isn’t really fulltime, given the scarcity of print jobs that trickle through the department), so I devoted my time to rest. Which translates to allowing my sleep schedule to drift later and later until I’m so far behind that when I get back to the usual routine I have a case of self-induced jet lag (without benefit of pictures or stories to tell).

I read the Time Magazine issue that proclaimed the “Person of the Year” to be “You, the reader.” Mirror on the cover instead of a picture. Get it? If they didn’t have a valid point, this would be the ultimate in what has long been the standard marketing practice of appealing to what one professor of mine called “the big You.” And a clumsy, obvious & cheesy effort, at that. But of course they do have a point, and that is that the developments of blogging, YouTube, and the globally-distributed interactive network of culture, etc., make the average person (by first-world standards) as likely to be a mover and shaker as any political leader or cultural icon. ABC's 20/20 had a 2-hour special on the same topic (interrupted, frustratingly enough, by the real news about Saddam Hussein's execution).

The question is, is this a mostly-good thing or not. In journalism classes we were taught that certain people, by nature of their work or position or notoriety, are “public figures” who have fewer moral and legal rights to privacy than the average citizen. In other words, Britney and George W. and John Gotti are open targets because they’re famous, so have at it. It’s OK (by journalism standards) to say things about them and publish pictures of them that would otherwise bring a lawsuit to the journalist or the paper or whatever. On the positive side, this promotes a free press and progress through exposure of corruption; on the negative side, we get the National Enquirer and Entertainment Tonight.

For me, the best summary of the “public figure” policy is in an episode of “The Simpsons.” Homer tells Alec Baldwin & Kim Basinger after they complain about his invasion of their “love nest” by curious Springfielders: "If you didn't want people searching through your garbage and snapping photos of your private moments, then you should have never tried to express yourselves creatively!"

Of course the democracy-promoting nature of the Internet (“Web 2.0”) is obvious. The down side of all the uploading is that so many people don’t have the same respect for privacy these days—their own or others’. They (we?) also tend to act on emotion, and accept visual information as truth. Combined with the instantaneous and global aspects of the ‘net AND the technical potential for total manipulation of pictures and video to create things that never were, the potential harm to individuals is troubling. And I'm not just talking about embarassment. On the other hand, who can get enough of those videos of fat 20-something dudes jumping around and lip-synching techno songs in their bedrooms? Am I right?

That I was reading about all this in a magazine I got for free for giving customer feedback on an online CD purchase, and now I’m blogging about it (and now I’m blogging about how I’m blogging about it…and now…well, you get the picture); seems entirely appropriate somehow.

I think I need some sleep.