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General, Worship

Albums 8 & 9

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Continuing the “10 albums that influenced your musical taste” thing I got from my wife and daughter.

As I jot down the backstories associated with this pair of albums, I realize they aren’t probably going to connect with anyone but church folk… but that’s a risk I’ll have to take.

I grew up in church and learned to play a number of 80s & early 90s “church songs” – hymns, praise choruses, and occasional hits in the Contemporary Christian Music genre. A lot of that was to entertain or bless my parents and friends of the family.

Some of it was because our Associate Pastor was a phenomenal pianist who I’m told played backup keys for some high-profile names in the 60s and 70s before coming to Jesus. (I’m trying to find proof of this, but you don’t often see “backup keyboardist” listed anywhere.) Regardless, it was always a treat to see Pastor Bob get rockin’ on the baby grand, and I wanted to learn to be at least half as good as him.

But imitating someone’s style isn’t the same as pouring out your heart in a song. While I prayed a prayer at a young age and professed faith in Christ all my life, I went through an all-too-typical teenage back-and-forth of commitment and complacency or even apathy about my faith.

After joining the Air Force in late ’94, I went through almost two years of training before I got to my first duty station in September ’96. By then I had gotten myself into trouble with a combination of more credit card debt than I knew how to handle, and less responsibility or attention to detail on the job than the Air Force expected of its members. Everything seemed to be falling apart, and at what felt like the bottom, I turned back to God.

Basically, I admitted that if I was going to do this “believe in Jesus” thing, it had to be real or else what was the point?

There was a little church off base that welcomed me in even though I was smoking in the parking lot. They seemed to care more about me than about telling me off for how messed up I was.

When I said I wanted to go there again, the acquaintance who gave me a ride said, “I don’t go there often, but I know someone who goes every week, and she lives in the dorm next to yours.”

I met a lovely young lady named Jami that day who offered to give me a ride to church each week… and later allowed me to talk through a lot of the stuff I had to deal with in my heart in order to grow up (at least a little). She also happened to be one of maybe two or three sincere Christians I knew at the time who felt like peers, so we talked a lot about scripture and spiritual growth. Soon after, as we spent more and more time together, we decided to officially call it “dating,” and a few months after that, I asked her to marry me.

Jami had some albums by this guy, Dennis Jernigan, who sang songs that felt more honest and deep than a simple “This is the day that the Lord has made, let us be glad and rejoice in it” that we might sing in the congregation at church.

Jernigan is also a pianist, and something of a psalmist. He is prolific in his songwriting, and the subjects aren’t all the happy Christian music you might expect Ned Flanders to listen to.

All the Jernigan albums are great if you care for this kind of music and message, but this album, Break My Heart O God, particularly changed my musical tastes.

A friend of mine from my new church asked me to accompany him on “You Are My All In All,” which he wanted to sing as a farewell to the congregation before he moved back to the States. I was happy to play, but as we practiced in private, I also sang along.

“Dave,” he said, “you should totally sing too. We could harmonize. It would be great.”

I was convinced my voice was best left unheard, so I resisted at first, but eventually I agreed. That invitation and encouragement led to me joining up with the worship team, not just to play keys but to sing–and eventually to leadership positions and paying positions in music.

If I had to pick one album that represented the shift in both my heart and my musical taste toward incorporating praise and worship, it is “Break My Heart O God.”

However, not long after joining up with the team, the worship director introduced us to some new songs and a couple of albums that came out from some obscure Christian group with a website called WorshipTogether. Seemed like a bunch of (relatively) edgy stuff from churches and musicians in the UK.

There were these folks I hadn’t heard of before, like Matt Redman, Martin Smith and Delirious?, Stuart Townend, Tim Hughes… eventually David Crowder and Chris Tomlin, among so many others.

This music felt different than the book full of short praise choruses from labels like Integrity’s Hosanna! or Maranatha. And while Hillsong was taking over so much of that market share with what I thought was also good music and meaningful worship, all of this stuff being imported from the UK seemed like where it was at.

(Maybe I should make a Cutting Edge joke here, since that album from Delirious? is almost a tie for deserving the ninth slot. Anyone still reading probably does get that reference.)

This makes me think of one of the best periods of music ministry that I’ve experienced. We would jam out a worship set for almost an hour, listen to the pastor preach for about an hour, and then close with a song… which often turned into another half hour or hour of people just wanting to worship and praise God through singing, dancing, clapping, or just bowing there before the altar.

Not everything about that time was perfect, but it set the bar for what I think of as solid, spontaneous, Spirit-filled worship with a sense of the presence of God… and that’s a place I’ve been returning to as often as possible since.

General

Albums 5 through 7

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At the suggestion of my wife and daughter, I committed to posting ten albums that most influenced my musical tastes. I’ve been trying to think of which albums honestly answer that question. There are a lot of songs and albums that I like, or that hold special meaning for whatever moment or memory they’re associated with… but they didn’t change or expand the sort of music I listen to.

This project took a little more reflection than I anticipated.

I lumped these three albums together because they’re the soundtrack to my earliest years working–first at a hospital as a sort of apprentice under my biomed tech father, and second as an Airman at a year-long language training course in Monterey.

I know I listened to the cassette of Siamese Dream often. I have a vivid memory of walking along the railroad tracks near my South Side Chicago home on a sunny day with a clear blue sky.

We used to walk those tracks often—my dad leading my brother and I when we were younger, helping us balance on the rails or watching as we did it on our own. He would hide coins and little precious stones or trinkets in some of the trees along the way, things for us to find as rare treasures later. As is probably all too natural, and unfortunate, we didn’t go for so many walks as we got older. Too many other things to do rather than spend time just walking around.

I’m 90% sure that in the instance of my vivid memory, I was walking to catch the bus to go to work at a hospital in the Biomed Tech department where my dad was contracted. I learned to disassemble, clean, reassemble, and ops check a particular model of infusion pump, to confirm that the supposedly fixed pumps were functioning appropriately, pumping out the right amount of fluid over time. Anything really complicated was my dad’s job, along with his co-workers, of course, but I took care of some of the grunt work for them so they could focus on the complex tasks.

When the steady building drum rolls and strumming at the beginning of Cherub Rock bursts into overdrive, it still gets my head bobbing to the beat. The wails of the guitar solos and Corrigan’s shift between breathy vocals and emotive roars feel like all of teenage angst and awkwardness stuffed into a musical land mine, ready to explode at the first familiar note. Today’s soft plucking turns into head banging power without warning, and it takes me back to what seemed like the greatest days.

All that said, I fell in love with Disarm. I adored the bells and drums accenting the melody, and the driving rhythm of the rapid strumming—especially with so much of a minor chord dominating the song. There was beauty and power in the emotion of the music rather than the volume of it, which never really blares or overwhelms.

Disarm was the one I had to take to the piano and learn how to play for myself.

For Album 6, I chose Sixteen Stone by Bush.

I never was the popular kid in high school. I had a good circle of friends for several years in junior high and high school, but it was like I was tolerated or at best welcome to tag along.

I joined the Air Force and left home at age 17. I wasn’t really popular in the military either… just kind of trudging along, doing what I had to do, probably with the typical slouch and introvert stride–head bowed staring at my feet.

Then some of the “cool kids” at the smoke pit called me aside one day. I figured it was similar to the friendly ribbing I’d gotten throughout high school from the jocks and the popular crowd to the stoners down the street. Some folks feigning interest, trying to sort out what’s wrong with the nerdy kid that doesn’t join in the fun, or whatever.

Thankfully, one of the guys really was just reaching out, as if to say, “Hey, you’re alright. You should hang out with us.” It took a little time to believe that was the intent, but pretty soon I found myself welcomed into a group of close friends.

When I joined the Air Force, one big change affected me more than I realized: After years of constant access to a piano, it was a bit of a shock to not have one.

After a few months in Monterey, I got a Circuit City credit card (an arguably bad decision) and bought a Casio electric keyboard the first day.
I recall playing Glycerine with my keyboard’s guitar sounds, along with a bunch of other popular songs. At the insistence of my friends, I even got the chance to play at a local bar for about an hour before their band came on.

Bush was one of a number of albums I picked up in that first year away from home – mostly whatever was mainstream and trendy, or whatever caught my eye at the music store on Alvarado street down the hill from DLI.

Monterey is a beautiful place at any time or age, in my ever-humble opinion… but to have a full year with a good group of friends and a chance to carefully come out of my shell was an awesome experience.

Album 7 represents the slight pull that country has on my musical interests.

My closest friend at DLI and I would go driving around Asilomar Beach in Pacific Grove on lunch during the week, or occasionally on longer drives during the weekend–to the Santa Cruz boardwalk, or to the Salinas Mall, etc. Dan listened to a little of everything–all the metal and alternative stuff coming out at the time, but also hip-hop and yes, even country.

I was never a huge fan, but I admit, some of the ballads and story-telling songs catch my ear.

Garth Brooks is probably the one I enjoyed the most, and a compilation of hits is an easy if mainstream choice. You can’t go wrong with popular tunes like “Friends in Low Places” and rockers like “Callin’ Baton Rouge” mixed with emotional ballads (“The Thunder Rolls”), inspirational numbers (“Standin’ Outside the Fire”) and songs that hearkened to my Christian upbringing (“Unanswered Prayers” and “We Shall Be Free”).

“The Dance” is the song I would choose off this album if I had to pick just one. I love the piano instrumentals (of course), but the message is also great. We never know how it’s all going to end up. Maybe if we knew in advance, we could avoid some hurt, but we’d likely lose out on a lot of great times too.

General

Album 3 and 4 – deep relaxation

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My 3rd and 4th albums are vastly different, but share common ground in that they inspire(d) a lot of the relaxation I find in playing around at the keys for hours.

First, Deep Forest was a project that sought to preserve indigenous peoples’ music while mixing it with modern electronic flavors. They’ve put out a number of albums featuring music from all over the world, but the first album sticks with me after a few years of listening to it as a teenager.

I received a cassette as a gift from a friend and co-worker at my first job, someone I looked up to in a lot of ways, so that certainly helped me overcome the initial unfamiliarity.

But the influence of the album goes much deeper.

The range in the music is part of what makes the album special to me. Some of the songs are like soundtracks to the sunset, stargazing anthems, melodic hymns for the morning, and driving beats for a jog across the plains.

I used to workout in the garage or go for jogs and bike rides listening to this stuff, and while foreign in lyrics and style, it feels very much like home.

On the subject of home, I grew up learning to play the piano, taking eight years of formal lessons. After the first couple years and opportunities to show off (playing feeble, simplistic variations on well-known tunes), my uncle John would frequently ask what new songs I was learning.

If memory serves, he was the one who first said, “Oh, do you know Pachelbel’s Canon in D?” I did not. He may have even played a few notes of it to see if it would jog my memory.

After that, he often brought an album of instrumental music when he visited–something my parents would enjoy listening to, and something I would learn from. Some of the modern greats like Vince Guaraldi and George Winston.

I don’t have those old albums any more, sadly… but I get a similar enjoyment from the way The Piano Guys bring joy and creative expression to all their remakes of classics and modern tunes.

Over the years, I learned to play more and more by ear. I could hear and identify notes near perfectly, so when I wanted to learn a song, I would play around until I figured out the right notes. For example, I learned a bunch of Guns ‘n’ Roses songs not so much from sheet music, but by sitting there with a Walkman and the cassette tape, stopping-rewinding-starting, playing around until I could imitate the parts I thought captured the original song well.

With Pachelbel’s Canon, I loved the way the music is designed to play upon the same theme, to keep adding layers and complexity to what starts out as a simple piece. (Yes, yes, that’s kind of the definition of “canon” in musical terms, but whatever, I didn’t know that at the time.)

I played around with Pachelbel for hours and hours, figuring out how to duplicate some of the more intricate parts I loved in the recorded versions, or learning to incorporate my own attempts.

What I enjoyed most about sitting there “fooling around” was that it taught me how to flow with my mistakes, maybe even to turn them into an intentional part of the music. An obvious discordant note stands out when played alone, but once you’re used to the scale, you can often hit a wrong note and improvise a way back to what sounds fitting.

Much like in life, an important lesson in playing an instrument is learning how to continue right through the mistakes we are certain to make, and get back on the intended melody without letting the error ruin the whole performance.

Speaking of an almost-ruined performance, the Piano Guys’ video of their version of Pachelbel is a delight.

General

Album Day 2

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My wife and daughter got me doing the “post 10 albums that influenced your musical taste” thing on Facebook… but I’m much too guilty of pontificating to simply cut and paste the standard blurb. I’d rather share the story of why the song or album matters.

And so we come to the Christian Metal album:

The cover totally captured that This Present Darkness by Frank Peretti vibe, which scores it even more bonus late 80s / early 90s Christian points.

My brother was the one who had all the arguments with my parents about what was acceptable and what was not, what boundaries he could push and which were unyielding, what amount of Christian in the Christian Rock was enough to make it not just Rock ‘n’ Roll from the pit of hell.

I feel like my parents did pretty well with the information they had available to them. Like a lot of churchgoers at that time, they accepted what their spiritual authorities and mentors had to say about different trends going on among the youth, and sometimes those spiritual leaders only had the information given to them by hearsay or by a form of the telephone game… hence some of the extreme misunderstandings like “the Satanic panic” era for Dungeons & Dragons. (I talk at length about the way D&D is viewed by Christians in another post.)

Side note: we managed to get some tabletop RPG time with games like BattleTech—nothing demonic about giant stompy robots covered in lasers and missiles!—and Middle-Earth Role Playing—essentially D&D but with a d100 system instead of d20, and all set in Tolkien’s world, which was barely tolerable as opposed to blatant witchcraft or occult imagery.

Back to the Christian bands…

Stryper had some kind of non-troversy for saying things like “To Hell with the Devil” (theologically accurate, but I suppose it’s coarse language), so they were out of the question. Petra was acceptable but they were pretty chill really… sort of a (much more overtly) Christian U2, I suppose… and we wanted something heavier.

Deliverance was one of several bands my brother introduced me to, and this tape got a lot of use. In addition to the screeching guitars and echoing vocals, they had some surprisingly meditative tracks – a version of Psalm 23, and the instrumental intro song for the album.

Barren Cross and One Bad Pig are the only others I can think of off the top of my head… and also a band called Vengeance that was basically growling indistinguishable from the rumbling overdrive of their guitars. I couldn’t quite get that one, other than for comedy value.

Vengeance was basically the Christian version of the band in whichever Ace Ventura movie it was where they use the growling for comedic effect. I think that was Cannibal Corpse.

Wow. Listening to this so many years later, I am glad I left some musical choices in the past.
General

Albums because why not

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My wife and daughter tagged me in the “post 10 songs & albums that influenced your music taste” trend on Facebook, and—although I normally resist such things—I figured I should go along. It would be a fun way to reminisce, and kind of a challenge to see if I could really narrow my choices down to just ten.

Then I figured, “Oh hey, I am wordy and rambly, and don’t just want to share a pic of the album with the same cut-n-paste blurb from the original trend. Maybe I should put this on that blog thing I continually ignore.”

Bonus: Since I’m “in a creative funk” / procrastinating / uninspired / suffering “this is pointless” syndrome regarding writing fiction, maybe this will get me putting thoughts into words into sentences into something online.

So the first choice was “November Rain” from Guns ‘n’ Roses, Use Your Illusion I. This was one of the few songs I practiced and learned during the last year or two of formal piano lessons I took between ages 5 and 13.

I loved the mix of evocative piano and Slash’s sweet guitar solos, and it was fun trying to figure out how to mimic those wildly different styles on the keys.

A bunch of those songs stick out in my head as high school favorites—mostly the ones with fun piano parts.

Off the top of my head and in no particular order: Locomotive, Estranged, Civil War, Yesterday, Live and Let Die, Don’t Cry, Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, and 14 Years come to mind as favorites. You Could Be Mine is up there on my list too, but I didn’t realize it until Terminator 2 came out, which is one of the true cinematic masterpieces of all time.

Regrettably, while learning to play November Rain, I ignored my piano teacher’s warnings and encouragement to keep practicing the stuff I didn’t like to play—tough classical music and such. I remember a conversation with him where he said something like, “If you’re not going to practice, then I don‘t have anything else to teach you.”

Teenage Me heard the latter part and ignored the condition at the beginning of the sentence. I figured I was good enough for anything I wanted to do. Maybe I thought that I didn’t need anybody… contrary to the final lines of the song, oddly enough.

Just a few years later, I met some jazz pianists who admitted they weren’t all that great, and they were doing things on the keys that I couldn’t understand or follow. Then it dawned on me that I had so much more I could have learned. So… not just an album, but a life lesson.

Side note: My favorite song of the two albums is probably Estranged. I think it’s because (imho) it has even more variety in the musical dynamics and it also has a lot of energetic parts that I loved playing on the keys, even if they weren’t meant for piano.