The New Endangered Species?

I was having a conversation with one of my piano students today that got me to thinking. My student is the pianist for a worship band composed of youth from our church - a good band, I might add. As we were lining up her repertoire of classical as well as church-music pieces she brought up the fact that sometimes she feels a bit irrelevant in the band - that what she contributes isn't really that important. Understand, she wasn't complaining about the band or its leadership, but rather the type of music that is out there for this particular genre. We talked about the fact that today's worship music is largely written for guitar-based bands, as evidenced by the keys many songs are written in which are not pianistic but rather cater to guitarists - what we call "sharp keys." We finally decided that we would go back a few years and pull out some music that was more piano-centered and that contained chord progressions from which she could gain a good foundation for her playing.

So, that said, I wonder if the piano will one day play little or no roll in our church services? My student and I laughed at how we hear a song and, no matter what insrumental arrangement it was originally written for, we instantly shoe-horn it into the piano/organ/bass/drums framework that we've used for years. And seriously, have you ever tried to play some of our new songs on the organ? Give me a break! I feel like I might fall asleep between chords sometimes!

Personally, I think it will take us some time to ever completely move away from our foursome. Actually, I wonder if we EVER will? Or will the piano be relegated to the corner where the previously lowly guitars used to be and the GUITARS will take the place on the platform in the spot where the piano/keyboard once stood? Okay, so I'm an old kermudgeon, but I hope that never happens. (I can already feel the dirty looks)

Rhythms of Life

Here we are at last at long last. Enugu, Nigeria. We are slowly settling in to a routine, a rhythm, if you will, but unlike the rhythm of our previous existence. Rhythm here is quite different than in the U.S. In more ways than one.

  

Prior to April 1, my life proceeded along a very clear meter, four-four time, key of B-flat. The pace was . . . well astounding. We were a part of the frenetic energy of the “two parents working” with our son in a myriad of different daycare “solutions.” Now the solution is us. And we are teaching not only our son, but a cadre of future ministers of the Gospel.

Here in Nigeria, things are very different. Many things. Most things. If you want to go to the bank, or even something as simple as getting a generator repaired, it can take up a good part of your day. Or a good part of a number of days.

Things can proceed as a very slow waltz here. Or a tango, maybe, depending on the situation. There are plenty of cars and three times the number of “machines” (motorbikes, in local parlance). And lots of of folks walking. Walking, walking, walking, everywhere people are walking. I didn't used to walk quite so much at home. At least if I did, it didn't feel like it, compared to walking under the blistering sun at around six or seven degrees north of the equator.

Is your life so hectic that you do not take time to sing a new song unto the Lord? Do you find that the song in your heart has become a mournful dirge? Are you running to and fro seeking that which you must do to get eleven more items crossed off of your never-ending to do list? Or are you at the opposite end of the spectrum, with no less long a list, but without the energy to drive another block or even look for a pen so you can cross off the one item you were able to finish two weeks ago?

Lord, help us to remember to always praise you in song, with our voices, in our hearts, and let our light shine no matter the circumstance.

To worship, or not to worship. That is the question.

Confession time.

I don’t know if musicians are allowed to worship.

There I said it. Sounds weird I know, but let me explain.

It had been one of those Sunday mornings when waking the congregation was about as easy as pulling teeth from a buffalo. I mentally shuffled the song order in my head, trying to come up with the right musical combination to shake everyone from their stupor. We started into another chorus and . . . my drummer quit. Just stopped playing. I glanced over and it looked like he was sitting there on his stool, worshipping by himself.

Well . . . good for him. But what about me and my piano? I needed a beat. It sounded empty without him. Musicians can’t take a break to worship. We’re supposed to keep playing, no matter how red-hot the service gets.

It bothered me when I thought about it later. The obvious spiritual answer was, “The drummer had the right idea. We don’t need instruments. God can move without any help from us.”
But admit it. How many of my fellow music leaders would be annoyed if they suddenly found themselves without a time keeper? Show of hands. One, two, three, four—that’s what I thought. We know how fickle a congregation can be. They might sit down at a moment’s notice if the song service hits a sour note. Music shouldn’t be that important, but I find in reality it often is.
It’s a question I struggle with. Are musicians allowed to stop playing and take a worship break? I don’t mean raising your hands at the end of a song and jumping up and down for ten seconds before launching into the next medley. I mean quitting cold in the middle of a chord progression. Without any signal from the pastor. Just saying, “I’m done. I want to join the worship. God will move without me.”

I have no answers. More often than not, the music leaders of my childhood would soldier on, no matter how long the service went. I don’t know if it’s the right way, but I imagine I’ll do the same. Just keep pounding away on my piano, and praying God accepts it as my offering.

An Apology, and an interest in the future of Apostolic musicians

THE APOLOGY

My apologies for this late post. I went out of town with the wife and forsook all responsibility until this evening. My vacation frame of mind is gone, and I come to all of you with guilt, shame, and a mostly empty head. The small part that isn't empty is what I would like to now share...

THE ADVERTISEMENT

I have often wondered how many Apostolic artists there are that record their own music, but do not have enough material to make an album or the means to distribute it. I am sure that there are more than a few Apostolic musicians who have material that does not fit the praise and worship genre, and we probably don't get to hear them unless it is a state or local youth event. 

With that in mind, I wanted to make a plug for the website watunes.com, I heard about this on NPR this weekend and checked it out this morning. It is a website that allows you to sell unlimited songs, albums, music videos, and audiobooks with no upfront costs. You earn 100% of your royalties and are able to sell through iTunes, Rhapsody, and eMusic. 

This is definitely a social networking site, and I am sure the number of poor musicianship is enormous. However, for the really good band that you know who at this point have only created a Myspace music page, this is a great tool for getting some exposure and profit. 

My apologies again for such lazy and irresponsible blogging habits. I do hope that someone can find this website useful and that some Apostolic musician/singer/songwriter finds it an valuable tool for their gifts and aspirations. 

CompassionArt follow-up

As a follow-up to my post on CompassionArt, the compilation CD, all of whose proceeds would go to fight world poverty, let me share some more great news on this front. CompassionArt, Family Christian Stores, and EMI CMG have announced the CompassionArt project as the first ever Family Christian Stores “Album of the Year.” Along with this announcement, Family Christian Stores has pledged to donate $1 per CD/DVD sold to CompassionArt through its James Fund foundation, with an additional $1 for the first 25,000 units sold! The funds are being directed towards a Creative Arts Center for Watoto, a charity championed by Delirious? frontman and CompassionArt founder Martin Smith. The project will encourage artistic education for orphaned children to abused mothers, aiming at restoring hope in the midst of suffering.

This is one more great reason to get out and purchase this CD/DVD combo.

"The Soloist"

I recently finished reading “The Soloist” by Steve Lopez and I must admit that I haven’t been that moved by a book in a long, long time. I’m sure you’ve seen the advertisements here and there for the movie by the same title. You can view the previews here as well as interviews with the author and the subject of the book, Nathaniel Anthony Ayers. Just listening to the haunting strains of Beethoven's 3rd makes a trip to the website well worth it.

I promise I won’t give anything away, but this book is about mental illness- certainly the tragedy of it, but also, in a strange way, the beauty of it. Not beauty in the sense that we typically think of beauty, but I think you’ll understand after you read the book. Nathaniel Anthony Ayers is a 52 year-old homeless African-American man living on the streets of Los Angeles, staying near a statue of his beloved Beethoven in Pershing Square. Why the Beethoven statue? Ayers is a Julliard trained double bass player who, because of mental illness, became homeless and has lived on the streets for some 30 years. He catches the attention of Steve Lopez, an LA Times columnist who notices Ayers setting near the Beethoven statue, playing a violin with just two strings – in Ayers words, “I’ve had a few setbacks.” Thus, the two-stringed violin.

The book is the beautiful, raw, honest story of their two-year journey. Lopez does all he can to help Mr. Ayers get off the street and lead as stable a life as possible despite suffering from schizophrenia. I won’t give any details, but trust me, you’ll be moved beyond words at the lengths Lopez goes to make a difference in this man’s life. Time, money, and at times his own sanity, are sacrificed on Lopez’s part, all with the hope that he can help Mr. Ayers find peace and stability. I have to admit that I’d have probably given up LONG before Lopez did. As I read the book I had to ask myself why my calling as a child of God – a Christian – did not compel me to give and sacrifice as much for someone in a similar condition. There was no mention of God in the book, but I heard the voice of the Lord speaking to me several times as I read, asking me what I had done, or better yet, what I planned to do beyond teaching in a Apostolic college, participating in the music team at church and doing the occasional care ministry activity in my church. So, I guess that’s a subject for a different blog, but I couldn’t help but mention it here since it spoke to me so strongly in that sense.

Conviction and hope…

What I found so fascinating about Mr. Ayers is that despite all the hurt and pain in his life, much of which was caused by a broken family and a lack of support by friends, mentors and instructors, he never, ever became bitter against his art, which you will see is the great love of his life. He never became embittered against those he went to school with at Julliard – cellist Yo-Yo Ma being one of them – because of their successes in life when contrasted against his own sickness and resulting failure. Instead, he applauded them, praised them and found more joy in their music than you could ever imagine. It’s so built into our nature to envy those who are successful – even people in the church who are our brothers and sisters. At the opening of Romans 12, Paul speaks about the different gifts given to each member of the body of Christ. When I mulled this all over I had to repent and pray for that simplicity of mind that would cause me to rejoice in the gifting of my friends and co-workers. After all, they are gifts – given to us by a God who chooses us as His vessels through which He will make known His greatness, His beauty, His majesty.

Thank you Mr. Ayers – in your simplicity, your weakness, you have reminded me of the Source of every beautiful gift.

Thula Mama

EVERETT: ENOUGH ALREADY! We are sick and tired of these posts which do not directly relate to the matter at hand, Apostolic music. If you post one more blog about that banjo playing guy. I think you’ve referenced him in something like three or four posts already. ENOUGH! WE ARE SICK OF IT!!

Well. Too bad. I can’t help myself. There are songs and there are songs. There are spiritual songs. There are worldly songs. There songs that make you glad and songs that make you sad. There are songs that lift up your spirit and there are songs that bring you down. There are songs that bring an atmosphere of worship in the sanctuary and there are songs that you can only imagine the devil himself worshiping to.

Banjo? Banjo??? What is this about a banjo player? The guy’s name is Bela. Bela Fleck. The first name is Hungarian, apparently. He shares the name with a very cool composer by the name of Bartok. I’m sorry I don’t know the diacritics offhand and am too lazy too look them up. Ok. So I’m not that lazy. Bartók Béla, in the correct Hungarian order. But I digress. I don’t recall how I came across Fleck’s music initially, but he’s got a super bassist, Victor Wooten, as part of the group, Béla Fleck and the Flecktones. You can listen to a sampling of their music, here. Fleck defies genre. I call it jazz. Others, country, fusion, bluegrass. He plays across different genres depending on the project. Most of my favorite stuff he does is jazz.

My life has been seriously touched by three Fleck tunes. Actually, I think only two of them were written by him, and the third… just experienced it last month for the first time and had to listen to it a few times. It brought me near tears the first three times I listened to or started to listen to it. “Is it right that children have to fend for themselves, no, no, no.” The song is a “protest” song that laments the plight of the downtrodden, children, women. The thing that gets me is that the tune is so joyful. How can a lament be set to such a happy tune? Is it the indomitable human spirit no matter the situation?

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that a “non-spiritual” song has ministered to someone. And it sure won’t be the last. Although I can’t really honestly say that “Thula Mama” is not a spiritual song. The theme of Isaiah 61:1-3 runs through the song as an undercurrent. Jesus came to bind up the brokenhearted, give the oil of joy to those who mourn, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Certainly this song speaks to the very same type of individuals with the same purpose. Such a song cannot fill a void if God does not exist tangibly in the hearer’s life, but it can augment our innate compassion and teach us to strive to always show Jesus’ love to those in greatest need in our communities and worldwide.