Category Archives: Music & Art

Articles concerning, or related to, music, art, or similar forms of artistic expression.

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Wednesday Wordsmiths: Over the Rhine

Today’s Wordsmiths:

Over the Rhine

I have to credit my friend, Josh Brewer, for a lot of the music I listen to these days. He has turned me on to some amazing singer-songwriters; I was never much of a radio listener or concertgoer in college, so I had a lot of catching up to do in my twenties. Josh has introduced me to such amazing musicians/bands as Pierce Pettis, David Wilcox, Patty Griffin, Ryan Adams, Son Volt, Ray Lamontagne, Anaïs Mitchell, Wilco and Denison Witmer (and I’m sure some of these will show up in their own Wednesday slot before the year is over). However, one of the bands I cherish most, thanks to him, is a little group called Over the Rhine. They have been around for a while, but have really begun to draw a larger fan base since Paste magazine praised their magnum opus, Ohio, by giving it five stars. The core of Over the Rhine is the husband-wife duo of Linford Detweiler and Karin Bergquist. They have consistently created some of the most exquisite and intelligent music over the past ten years, including such amazing albums as Drunkard’s Prayer and The Trumpet Child.

What makes Over the Rhine’s music so arresting is how delicate each song seems to touch the ear. Whether given a beat and driven by a bluesy guitar, or flowing along to a gentle piano melody, their jazz/folk/blues/classical sound pours from the speaker like audible adornment, filling the room and making it a more beautiful, restful place than it was in silence. Karin’s vocals are as satisfying as a good, dry wine, and their blended instrumentation is inspired. Their music fits almost any occasion, from road trips to dinner parties, background music at work or as a centerpiece for a relaxing evening at home. And it is a privileged person who has the opportunity to see them live (Ash Wednesday 2007 at the Mucky Duck in Houston, a Guinness in hand and “I’m on a Roll” coming from the little stage – a concert memory I’ll never forget).

If you are interested in checking out Over the Rhine, I suggest The Trumpet Child – I believe it has the most compelling and radio-friendly songs, though I am also thoroughly enjoying their newest release, The Long Surrender (especially the haunting “Only God Can Save Us Now”). Or you could go right to their masterpiece, Ohio, a two-disc epic with gem after shining gem – it’s like a treasure chest that can sing.

In the meantime, here’s the opening song from The Trumpet Child, live:

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Wednesday Wordsmiths: Andrew Peterson

Today’s Wordsmith:

Andrew Peterson

He is an accomplished musician, songwriter, and author, but refers to himself simply as “storyteller.” It is a title he more than lives up to. Peterson began his career as just another Christian music artist riding the medium-sized wave of contemporary acoustic folk popularized by Caedmon’s Call and the milder stuff from Third Day among others. He was a welcome addition to the club, but I considered him nothing special at first. However, as my taste for contemporary Christian music faded, my appreciation for Peterson’s music only grew, as did his maturity as a songwriter and his talent as a storyteller. What makes his music exceptional is the keen ear he has for instrumentation and the balance of sound, not to mention the way his lyrics are always enhanced by delicate, modest melodies and humble instrument choices. And what of the lyrics? Let’s just say, if storytelling is a gift, Peterson has received the package gladly. Beautiful imagery in a few, simple words, song after song after song. No wonder my wife and I chose his “Canaan Bound” as the song for our first dance at our wedding reception.

If you are interested in checking out his music, I suggest sampling some of the stuff from his third wide-release, Love and Thunder, by far my favorite. However, you really can’t go wrong with any of the albums. And, when Advent and Christmas time roll around again, make sure you have picked up a copy of his folksy musical, Behold the Lamb of God: The True Tall-Tale of the Coming of Christ. It’s not Advent until I’ve listened to this album, and I can’t celebrate Christmas until I’ve watched the concert DVD. Below is not the Ryman concert, but a pretty good capture from the annual tour.

This is all just a little bit of the wonderful creativity that Peterson and his friends are up to year ’round. It’s best, though, to end with something simple; to that end, here is some of the lyrics from “Canaan Bound:”

I trembled at the voice of God
a voice of love and thunder deep
With love he means to save us all
and love has chosen you and me
Long after we are dead and gone
for a thousand years our tale be sung
how faith compelled and bore us on
how barren Sarah bore a son
So come to Canaan, come

Where westward sails the golden sun
and Hebron’s hills are amber-crowned
Oh, Sarah, take me by my arm
Tomorrow we are Canaan bound


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Rock On! – A Concert-Going Memoir

Despite the fact that it has been awhile since I have posted anything, and the fact that right now I have a hundred different thoughts all doing a rain dance inside my head, I want to go in a different direct on this post. Besides, most of my thoughts right now are so muddled and jumbled and un-fleshed out that to spill them onto the blog would just be one big, wonderful mess. We’ll save that for later…

Last weekend, I attended the Appetite for Construction Concert Tour, which featured Switchfoot and Relient K. All in all, I had a very good time, even if I had purchased 12 tickets in plans of taking a group of youth only to find myself there with my wife, sister-in-law, and her friend, and no youth. But it got me thinking: What are the best concerts I have ever attended? … and What have been the worst? Join me as we take a stroll down Vernon’s Memory Lane…

The Best

#5 – Pierce Pettis (Eric Peters)

A very good, very laid-back, stripped-down concert in the basement of a church in Dallas, TX. I was only newly introduced to Pierce by my friend, Josh (who, you’ll find, is an influence in a few of these selections), and I was not disappointed by Pierce’s deep, soulful folk voice that blends so finely with his stark yet beautiful guitar playing. Eric Peters opened, and did a great job by himself as well, even when his guitar string snapped halfway through one of his best songs – he took about five minutes to change and tune it, then returned to the song as if he had never stopped. I got a chance to talk to Pierce for a moment during the intermission in which he told me a great story about how he came to write one of his songs. And it was his playing of “Song of Songs” that has stayed with me so long, and why I sang it to Leigh at our wedding reception.

#4 – Behold the Lamb of God with Andrew Peterson & guests
Saw this one in Clear Lake, TX with my buddy, Grayson. An amazing concert. You’ll notice that I like a lot of folk music, and like it even better in concert when it is laid-back and showcases just an artist and his or her guitar. The first half was just Peterson and his friends (Sandra McCracken, Derek Webb, Jill Phillips, Andy Gullahorn, Andrew Osenga, and Randall Goodgame) all playing a couple of their own songs. After intermission, they all came back out and collaborated, playing through Peterson’s entire Christmas concert. Phenomenal talent and beautiful music, and even though Jill and Sandra are married (as well as me, I might add), all rolled up, this was one of the few concerts I felt privileged to be at, like I was in on a secret.
***I got my tickets for this year’s show in Sugarland – Nov. 30th – the evening of my birthday -
along with a few extras, in case anyone is interested.***

#3 – dc Talk w/ Christafari and Grits
Not that I could forget the (then very new) group, Grits’, audience-participation “Let Me See Your Head Bob” song, or the strange woman who came out of nowhere and started dancing some African/islander-inspired dance during Christafari’s reggae-rock, but the most memorable thing about #3 is the energy and craziness incited by dc Talk’s set. This concert was pre-Jesus Freak album, post-Jesus Freak single, so their image was still transforming from goofy rap hooks to a melding of grunge and alternative pop … I don’t know if this was the recipe for awesome, but it sure did the trick. For the first time in my life, I moshed, crowd-surfed, pushed and shoved my way to the front of the stage, and left with my entire T-shirt soaked through with sweat. Now, some of you might chuckle at the lameness of said moshing, crowd-surfing, and such that might have been at a dc Talk concert, but you must remember that I was an innocent sixteen year old kid in a youth group, and the sweat-soaked shirt was one of those ridiculous Christian tees (the only one I miss wearing, I might add). But, c’mon, when Toby climbed up the twelve foot speaker, pointed at us, and then jumped off, how could this gig not make the list?

#2 – David Wilcox

What can I say about this one? It’s not like me to become a huge fan of an artist just by going to hear him play live. Normally, I’m more of a studio album fan – I’ve been bored at many a concert because the music just doesn’t sound as good live as it does on the album, or it doesn’t move me the way the album version does. Certainly not the case with Wilcox. I’ve seen him three times in the same place (McDavid Studio in Ft. Worth, TX), one year after the other. It was the first song (and subsequent story) that sold me on every ticket and album I later purchased. I still remember the little girl in the front with her parents who, after she requested one of his hit songs right at the beginning, received his answer, “What? Okay, sure. I was gonna save that one for the end, but you might be asleep.” At the end of the show, before he could walk out, she ran up and gave a him a big hug. And why wouldn’t she? Wilcox is an amazing guitar player and songwriter, but it is his stories that keep you coming back to his concerts. In explaining a metaphor around which he crafts a song, Wilcox will go into wonderful and whimsical detail before playing many of them, all while strumming and tuning. His metaphor on theodicy using golf was extraordinary. Once again, I must give props to my friend, Josh, for inviting me to that first concert and turning me on to this amazing artist. The concert atmosphere is best captured on Wilcox’s two live albums, East Asheville Hardware and Live Songs and Stories, and, I promise, unless you despise folk music in its entirety, you’ll never feel more alive than when you listen and laugh at his work. If you do hate folk music, I’m pretty sure that is proof you are already dead anyway.

#1 – Rick Elias Remembers Rich Mullins
The Celebrate Freedom concert at Southfork Ranch in Dallas, TX, back in the summer of 1998, shows up several more times on this list, but mostly in the “bad” section. However, there was one shining moment that redeemed the whole experience for me that hot-rainy-hot-rainy July day. Several artists passing through Dallas who were not on the bill showed up at Southfork that afternoon. One was Ragamuffin Band member, Rick Elias. Despite continual warnings all afternoon about lightning, and a sky that was threatening, and soon unleashed, a downpour of rain during his brief set, Rick Elias squeezed into the schedule and stepped out onto the stage. He plugged in his acoustic guitar and said, “As many of you are aware, my friend Rich tragically passed away last September. This was a song he really liked.” He proceeded to play “Man of No Reputation,” a song, it has been told, Rich wanted to record on the album he was working on at the time of his death, but had not yet been able to get through his cover of it without breaking down crying. It seemed Rick was almost as choked up when he transitioned into his only other song, “My Deliverer,” which was out on the radio at that time. As he played and we all began to sing along, the rain began to pour from the gray-green sky, and as stagehands began motioning for him to pack it up because of lightning, Rick stopped singing after repeating the last refrain, stood listening to us continue on for a few moments, and then quietly unplugged his guitar and walked off stage. Never has a concert experience equaled the power of those two, simple songs.

Honorable Mentions

Switchfoot / Relient K – Houston, TX (last weekend)

Third Day Worship Concert – Worcester, MA

Burlap to Cashmere – Celebrate Freedom 1998 (while still unknown)

Reba McEntire - Austin, TX 1996

Funky Brass Factory – Austin, TX – Halloween Concert @ The Oasis 2001

That’s my buddy, Michael, in the non-black shirt. Check out his music at www.myspace.com/justmike88

That’s all for this post. Check back soon for part two, in which I list the five worst concerts I have ever been to, as well as the three artists/bands I must see before I die.

In the meantime, what are your top five concerts? Comment and let me know … I’m always looking for a good show.

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Two Paintings

There are two expensive prints of paintings in my house. I mustn’t claim they are paintings, but prints of paintings, even though to simply state they are paintings makes me come across a bit more cultured. However, though they are prints, they are of fine quality, matted with accentuating colors, and encased in carefully selected frames. Both are gifts from my mother, both at Christmases, and both are special.

The first painting is by Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son. It is quite large and enclosed in a very expensive maroon and black, marble-like frame, and it hangs perfectly in the space above the small, thin fireplace mantle in living room. The painting is rather dark, ragged, even shadowy, and were it not for the image at its center – and the wonder of a story on which it is based – it might draw out distinct feelings of melancholy. But because of the two main figures upon which Rembrandt chose only to shed significant light, what is viewed is compassion verbed out in human forms, a father with a heart stricken with sudden joy clutching his dirty and despicable son’s head to his chest. Love like has never been viewed before. Love far beyond degree …

The second painting is a smaller print, encased in a rustic wooden frame that could be pine, or mesquite, or western oak (I really don’t know much about the wood of trees). It is a painting called, The Circuit Rider, by southwestern contemporary artist, Kenneth Wyatt. Looking into this painting is like looking out a window into a windswept, snowy roll of hills, spotted with thrush and sage. In the center stands a man who cannot be clothed warmly enough for the darkening winter eve, despite his cowboy duster and his wide-brimmed hat. He stands beside his patient horse, staring down into a yawning, stretching valley. Behind his back, not in shame but in anticipation, he clutches a worn Bible in his left hand. He is still, pensive, and solemnly eager to move on into the valley. For in the far distance, at the base of a rising hill enclosing the valley into a sloping canyon, sits a simple, isolated house. A trail of smoke meanders upward into the chilled air, and even though it is nothing but a speck, this home appears very inviting, especially for a tired messenger of the Gospel, who seems unwilling to cease his duty of riding across the countryside, visiting those who dwell in the wild, and sharing with them a truth he holds onto tighter than the reigns on his horse …

These two paintings are a reality that I desire for my life – this is why I write about them tonight (also because, though it is past 1 AM, I cannot coax myself into bed yet). They are a reality that I have not yet fully achieved, and I speak this on as physical a spiritual level as can be. If I had to dartboard my position within the scope of the lifestory these two paintings communicate, I would assume I am somewhere in the middle of them – somewhere between returning broken, poor, and needy to my recklessly loving Father, and stepping out in calm, faithful resolve to tell the world the euangelion, the good news, of Christ.

However, there are times when I feel I have not even come to a point that the lowdown and dirty son has in Rembrandt’s masterpiece. If I were the prodigal son, a more accurate parable would have included me returning to the distant country and squandering a hundred – a thousand, a million – different inheritances, and returning shamefully to the father every time. Would the father still run to me and reveal himself undignified, hold me and render himself unclean, and kiss me and render himself a fool?

So much more is my fear that not only have I not found myself as confidently resolute as the circuit rider, but that I shall never finish such a path to becoming like him – I shall never be the servant God wants – does God need? – me to be.

And yet, these two paintings (prints, of course) hang in my house, and day after day my eyes glance past them. Rarely do I look – really give them the attention they most certainly deserve. But, gifts as they were, perhaps they were meant for more than a possession I can one day pass on to my own children (if I am so blessed). Perhaps they were meant for moments like this, late into the night, when I am desperate for an assuring voice from heaven approving my current lifewalk – when I am starving for a soothing gust of wonder. Maybe they are meant to remind me simply that whatever road I find myself on, whether it be facing a familiar home of grace or an unfamiliar destination of purpose, the only right move is to head in their direction.