At Home On Piety Hill

No Salt, No Light
Abe Lincoln Black Republican Caucus
China boom risk to nature
$$ Millions Wasted! Halliburton?
Fathers Day With My Girls

No Salt, No Light
What do Christians want from Hollywood? This article answers that question and more. I was reminded of the 1994 Presidential election and the announcement from pollsters that, for the first time in history, evangelical Christian voting patterns mirrored the culture at large.

Abe Lincoln Black Republican Caucus
“Enough is enough,” said Don Sneed, co-founder of the caucus and a Bush Presidential appointee. “Even Rev. Al Sharpton, in a rare moment of honesty, has conceded that Black peoples’ continued political subjugation by the ingrates of the Democratic Party is becoming a political tragedy of historical proportions. Personally, I call it political pimping.”
I had no idea such an organization existed, until I stumbled onto this quote. When the Log Cabin Republicans refused to support George Bush in 2004, their African American counterparts in the ALBRC stepped into the gap and threw their full support behind his re-election.

China boom risk to nature
This looked like a promising article, but I should have known that in the end, the United States, aka “importing country,” would end up the villain:
Dr Liu said: “When China produces something for export, they use natural resources and release pollutants to the environment. You leave the pollution behind. Thus, importing countries contribute to China’s ecological problems.”

$$ Millions Wasted! Halliburton?
$526.95 for one phone call, $1,180 for 20 gallons of Starbucks Coffee, $1,540 to rent 14 extension cords and $5.4 million claimed for nine months’ salary for the chief executive! Another case of Halliburton fleecing the government? No! It’s the newly formed TSA getting off to a flying start! Read it and weep (or, better yet, call your representative)!

Fathers Day With My Girls
My Fathers Day began with a stylish card from Denise and a Starbuck’s gift card from Camille.

We met Levi and Suzanne, neither of whom are my children, at the Nevada Museum of Art for a fantastic exhibit of the art of Maxfield Parrish. There were many more paintings and drawings than expected and we took our time soaking them in. I was particularly captivated by his use of oils and the transparent, watercolor appearance Mr. Parrish achieved. Many of his paintings looked like colorized period photographs, causing me to wonder if that was the effect he was looking for. His sunrises/sunsets definitely capture the alpenglow of the New England sky in winter.

Another highlight was relaxing in the abandoned bar on the roof of the museum with the Nunninks, Denise and the girls. It was a glass enclosure, which had the appearance of someone’s living room with some modern, Italian design furniture. I think we sat there discussing art and music for about an hour.

We spent the night in Reno and then left for Lake Tahoe on Sunday. I am always impressed by the raw beauty of Lake Tahoe and the weather made our stay on Sugarpine Point very enjoyable. Emma is moving to North Carolina soon, so this may be the last Fathers Day with the girls together for some time. I’m blessed!

Two more works by Sam have been posted to the Alison Jaques Gallery site and the latest word from the artist is that he’s in the studio, ordering out and working at a feverish pace to keep up with the demand. Thanks for your interest. Short post… no more to read.

I know you’ve probably had a great weekend and you may not be real keen to get back to the workaday world. I’m afraid it’s going from bad to worse. It seems that some people are starting to take notice of a small problem, which some of us have been watching develop since the mid - 90’s. This may compound your Monday morning blues, so be warned.

You can get the scoop here.

My favorite quote from the story? “We may be seeing… the first true fascist society on the model of Nazi Germany, where you have this incredible resource base in a commercial economy with strong nationalism, which the military was able to reach into and ramp up incredible production.”

And, people think we went to Iraq for WMDs or democracy or you name it. Sheeesh. Just think “strategic” or if that’s a bit too academic / abstract, pretend you’re playing the board game, RISK. Our friend Russ has been vigilant, warning you folks — global warming is not our biggest concern.

Oh, and there’s no more to read… this is a short post.

To those serious Star Wars fans out there, please believe me when I say, I mean no disrespect and I admit up front that there are some days I just shouldn’t go see a film (like that ill fated, rainy evening I viewed The Thin Red Line, but that’s another blistering post). The problem is, I usually don’t recognize I’m in one of my “moods,” until about ten minutes into the movie and by then, it’s too late.

I’m sure the Revenge of the Sith is a fine film, but there were so many elements of the movie that I just found distracting or annoying and I couldn’t get past them. Let’s get it over with. Here’s what bugged me:

1. The first thing I noticed was this large aerial battle with about fifty million different craft and drones and space junk flying all over the place. It was just too much: an ostentatious show of what a pre-teen mind would produce if he could get his hands on the hardware at Industrial Light & Magic. This is a distraction, which would surface over and over again as the film played out.
2. That leads me to the next major distraction: since we were viewing the film long after its release, the Del Oro had moved it into one of the smaller, cheesier, side theaters. Admit it… when you go to see a Star Wars adventure, you arrive with certain expectations. The most important part of the experience will be visual special effects, then high quality sound, followed by lots of action, interesting story, then perhaps some decent characters and, finally, some fairly believable dialogue (actually, I never expect that last one, but it would be icing on the cake). Here’s the problem…the SOUND WAS DREADFUL! It was stereo, from the screen with maybe a little low end going on, but that’s it. No surround! What? Star Wars – no surround? Barbaric. I literally sat through the movie, hearing the rear speakers of the big auditorium on the other side of our screen reverberating with the state-of-the-art sound from the new Batman film. I was thinking to myself, “I wish we’d gone to see Batman instead.” Perhaps the Revenge of the Sith will be redeemed when viewed at home in Dolby surround, with volume up to 11.
3. Okay, so we’ve lost the sound… There’s still the special effects to salvage the movie. Wrong. As I mentioned, I was immediately struck by the sheer volume of “really cool” fighters and stuff flying around in the opening scenes. But, sooner or later they had to land and that would lead to another tedious nuisance. Every time they landed somewhere, droids would walk, fly or roll out to greet them or to unload things and then I noticed that they were all different. It’s like I was viewing some crazy advanced culture, where they could come up with expensive, ingenious prototypes of every kind of robot imaginable, but somehow couldn’t master the simple technologies involved in standardization or mass production. Maybe none of these droids were as successful as, say, the clones or R2D2 or the protocol droids and that’s why they were consigned to be set “extras” in a Lucas space flick. Or, the more likely explanation is that the adolescent special effects guys at IL&M couldn’t resist piling on one more magnificent droid creation.
4. Lest you think I’m off on this, check out the dizzying array of intergalactic species, who/which/what are piled into every crowd scene or greeting of the senate or whatever. The original bar scene, way back in the olden days, was an appropriate, light-hearted venue to show off the different kinds of extraterrestrials the guys on the story board or in the “special effects” department brainstormed. It was a bar, a watering hole, set to a “frontier motif.” It was great… once! We don’t need the “bar scene” trotted out multiple times in every episode. The Jedi council compounded the distraction and I found myself harboring some very intolerant and uncharitable thoughts towards the masters. Here’s one example.
5. When the guys in the Jedi council are discussing serious matters, I found myself cracking up as I scanned the “august body.” I completely lost it when the camera panned to the guy who looks like an elderly version of Beldar the Conehead from Saturday Night Live. I mean, really. He even carries himself like Dan Akroyd would, leading me to believe there’s something common to the conehead makeup or getup, that makes you walk stiffly and turn your whole body, when you have to look in another direction. And, this is the sad part. When Order 66 (or whatever it was) was issued and the normally hapless storm troopers with poor weapons skills, start effectively and methodically assassinating the Jedi masters (another story problem), I found myself anxiously anticipating Jedi Knight Beldar getting zapped and let out a muffled cheer, when he finally got whacked. For once, I found myself sympathizing with the storm troopers.
6. Speaking of Jedi gaffs and guffaws. Did anyone else find it just plain wrong to have a wise-cracking Obi-Wan Kenobi in the film? I mean, when Han Solo rolled his eyes and clowned around in the good old days, it was appropriate… he was playing a rebel, a galactic James Dean of sorts. But, Obi-Wan yucking it up with young Anakin, after crash landing half a space ship, burning from reentry, with firecraft squirting it with foam at roughly 200 MPH, taking out at least one control tower containing hundreds of expensive droids (all unique prototypes of course) and probably hundreds of computer generated beings, representing scores of species… then, to jump out of the ship cracking jokes? Perhaps the Emperor was doing the universe a favor when he dissolved the council.
7. Which leads me to Anakin’s move to the dark side. If I were tortured by the stilted, boring, pedantic lectures Anakin was subjected to by Obi-Wan and the Samuel Jackson Jedi character, I would have been driven to the dark side myself. There’s nothing worse than a robed, wisecracking, monkish Al Gore type, wagging his finger and droning moral lessons with a first grade vocabulary. My light saber would be out of its holster in a flash and I would be decapitating every one of those hooded, inter-galactic Mr. Rogers characters!
8. I was emotionally flat-lined through the entire film until the Emperor stooped to the lowest level any space scum could possible descend to. Yes, one scene brought me to life and filled me with a bit of righteous indignation. The final irritant in the movie I can only describe as Muppet abuse. When the Emperor started picking on poor Yoda, the little fella had my sympathy. I revived, leaned forward in my theater seat, brushed off the popcorn debris and my lower lip began trembling with emotion (you know, like Stimpy’s did whenever he experienced some passion). But, my indignation turned to quiet laughter as I watched the little Yoda puppet figure sail through the air, slam up against the wall, and fall limply to the floor, as I had seen so many Muppet figures tossed about on their television show, 25 years ago. You know the drill: the Chef or Beaker would blow something up and the Muppet puppeteers would throw their puppets, arms and legs flailing across the set. Yes, that was funny on the Muppet Show, but in a dramatic film? It didn’t work for me. I looked at Denise and said, “You know, Yoda needs a cane just to get around… how will he even be able to move after being catapaulted against that metal bulkhead with the full force of the Emperor?” Yet, miraculously… well, you know the rest and it’s just not believable.

Am I being a little too harsh on Mr. Lucas, the creative crew or the cast? I don’t think so. I made about a dozen wisecrack observations to Denise throughout the film and normally she would shsssssh me. During the Revenge of the Sith, she either responded in hushed verbal agreement or the matter-of-fact “Joe Friday” look.

It appears the last post about Sam provoked Camille to jealousy, resulting in a rash decision (on her part) to allow me to post stories about her now. She is an accountant with a BS from Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego, working for an unnamed accounting firm somewhere north of Fresno. A few years back, she traveled to Uganda to help the Kellermanns setup accounting for the eleven clinics they opened. Corruption is a huge problem in Africa, so Camille’s course for the clinics’ staff was foundational and every bit as important as the medical work. Please notice one of her works of art in the above photo.

Of course, when you’re with the Kellermanns, you will be offering some medical care. Scott won’t take “no” for an answer, as Camille found out.

Camille’s always popular with children and pygmie kids are no exception.

Will Camille ever return to Uganda?

Do I read? Sure, I do. Not much fiction, though. To purloin and retool a phrase from the pen of Don van Vliet (aka Captain Beefheart), I generally read “opaque literary works, which would bug most people.” Case(s) in point: rarely in recent months have I experienced the joy and excitement of feasting on anything approaching Oscar Cullmann’s Early Christian Worship nor have I surfeited on any book which approaches the sumptuous banquet which is Abbas Amanat’s Resurrection and Renewal: The Making of the Babi Movement in Iran, 1844 – 1850! Oh, the memory of reading those masterpieces during the magical days of my youth makes me long for more, more, more!

I know, I know… Those titles alone have you perched upon the edge of your seat, clutching your mouse or other pointing device in anticipation. “Yes, yes, Bo, but what are you reading now? What rapurous prose are you feeding your soul this week?” And, more importantly you ask, “where can I get my hands on these ‘page turners’?” Well, I’ll tell you…

Let’s begin with light reading: the books on my nightstand, which carry me far away from the cares and troubles of the day. These are the books I read for pleasure before passing off into dreamland. First, there is one I read more often than any other, except my trusty Bible. It is an old pocket anthology of Robert Frost’s Poetry. I’ve read it from cover to cover, but I usually play “poetry roulette,” opening to a random verse. I think my favorite is Evening In A Sugar Orchard… Wait! No, my favorite is Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening.

Another book I pick up over and over again is Design of the 20th Century. I’m sure you’ll agree that there’s nothing more relaxing before bedtime than reading brief biographies of designers and viewing their signature works.

Also on the nightstand is The Elements of Graphic Design, a Christmas gift from anonymous middle daughter. It is probably the most readable and engaging book I’ve read on the subject – I’m nearly finished with it. In queue are Interaction of Color by Josef Albers (a gift from Sam) and Design and Form: The Basic Course at the Bauhaus and Later by Johannes Itten (given to me by Emma). I have browsed them.

Now, let’s get down to the serious tomes. I’m preparing to teach through The Revelation or Apocalypse, so I’ve got a book open almost every spare minute. I have nearly completed Robert Mounce’s commentary in the NICNT series. It’s a modest 400+ pages and not overly technical. I read Joel Green’s How To Read Prophecy years ago, but just dashed through it again to brush up, along with some chapters from Bernard Ramm’s Protestant Biblical Interpretation. I also reacquainted myself with Millard Erickson’s classic undergrad textbook Contemporary Options In Eschatology. The list of “must reads” for the study of Revelation include:

• Gregory K. Beale’s monumental Commentary on Revelation — the main course. This is a critical commentary and at 1245 pages, it’s a monster!
• Alan Johnson’s fairly brief commentary on Revelation From the Expositor’s Bible Commentary
• What Christ Thinks of the Church: An Exposition of Revelation 1 –3 by John Stott
• The Temple and the Church’s Mission by G.K. Beale. This is 450 pages of pretty technical stuff.
• The Meaning of the Millennium, which I read a long time ago and have to do again.
• The Shadow of Christ in the Law of Moses by Vern Poythress will be a job, weighing is at more than 400 pages of very rigorous reading and, then, I’ll chase it with his diminutive Understanding Dispensationalists.
• I will also need to read George Eldon Ladd’s commentary, as well as his groundbreaking The Presence of the Future.

Finally, I have read or will need to read parts of Walvoord’s The Millennial Kingdom, Pentecost’s Things to Come, A.T. Robertson’s Word Pictures in the New Testament, Donald Guthrie’s New Testament Introduction, J. Barton Payne’s Encyclopedia of Biblical Prophecy and more!

It looks like it will be a Summer full of fun reading!

My post of June 1, 2005 generated some thoughtful comments about Sam’s work, his aunt’s recollection of the young artist, along with wild speculation about just what that fellow in the painting is holding and why the woman might be looking upon it so intently. As promised to Jen, I contacted the artist in his studio and he graciously supplied me with the following insights:

You’d asked what that guy in the painting was holding. It’s a rock. Maybe a slab of rock. Nothing fancy. That’s about it. I really need to get back to work.

We subjected the painting in question to a number of tests, using various visual enhancement techniques on our state-of-the-art equipment (including infrared) and can confirm that the man is, indeed, holding a rock:

While I had the artist’s attention, I asked him if he had heard the new Billy Corgan CD. I was also interested in what he has been listening to on his new iPod Photo and JVC executive sound system in the studio:

I’ve not heard much from that new Corgan thing. What do you know about it? I heard one track. Sounded pretty neat.

Salisbury went on to explain his fascination with The Smashing Pumpkins, an appreciation he shared liberally and loudly with his parents, whose bedroom happened to be across the hall from the artist during his teen years:

I was way into the Pumpkins. Can’t shake something like that, even if you try.

What’s currently on Sam’s playlist?

Lately I’ve been listening to bucket loads of metal. Apparently I favor what is known as ’sludge’ metal and also as ’stoner’ metal… The Melvins are an old band Nirvana credited as a major influence and they are also on heavy rotation in my apartment. Any recommendations for slow, loud, drone bands that may have served as an influence to these guys would be appreciated.

They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree: although I was over my penchant for Black Sabbath a decade before Sam came along, perhaps the craving for “the sound” was carried along genetically. As far as influences, I would suggest seeking out some Blue Cheer

or Frijid Pink. There was a Christian band, Agape, which I think might have been dishing out some plodding fuzz on HiWatt or Big Orange amps back around 1970.

As I wind up this peek behind the curtain into Sam’s world and what makes him tick artistically, I have to say that whenever I look at something he’s done, I still see the graphic expressions of a sweet, whimsical kid with bed-head!

The Alison Jaques Gallery has updated their site with the bio from Sam’s MOCA Chicago show, a link to works, as well as some other odds and ends. Perhaps they will add works from the show, as the date draws closer.

Last night I updated the pygmies.net site and added a link to The Kellermann Foundation — check it out.

A whole bunch of quotes have been added to the The Quotable Christian. I went through my “in box” and got the ones Suzanne and Michele submitted… Michele was getting a bit testy… Suzanne was quite patient.

What am I listening to? Charlie Peacock’s Kingdom Come. I think my favorite tune is Cheer Up Church.



I love Charlie’s music… very upbeat pop, but always some odd jazz or funk diversion inserted at just the right point. He’s a very nice guy, too. We met him once at Hal’s Grubstake in Yuba City, where he grew up. He was visiting family — we were returning from a softball tourney in Chico and stopped in for a DudeBurger and a Saddle O’ Fries.

Now, let me introduce a controversial topic… Last night I was feeling nostalgic, so I listened to Creed. I really liked their sound and dynamic, before they got played into the ground (late - ’90s) and disintegrated.

No more to read…

I’d like you to meet my new mates from Australia: (l-r) Adrian the soundman, myself, Peter the producer and Malcolm the cameraman. They were sent to our home by Beyond International to film a vignette for the television program Medical Incredible on the Discovery Health Channel. Since my miraculous healing and recovery from necrotizing fasciitis, the flesh eating bacteria, I’ve been contacted a number of times by producers of similar programs, but our plans always fell through. So, I didn’t want to broadcast this adventure until it actually materialized. This post will be a work in progress… my Blogger Dashboard is not working… I can’t edit posts or BlogThis!, so I have to post and update as I have time.

It was so much fun. They shot me running over the hill to our house about five times, up and down our street a few times, and the entire length of Gethsemane St. twice! They shot me coming and going, as well as moving along beside me in the van. I got quite a workout.

There were also family shots and what more appropriate than Denise and I relaxing in our hammock?

So, what were some highlights?

• The crew flew into San Francisco and our segment was the first one they shot. They were very friendly, patient, fun and we got along very well. The moment Peter the producer came through the door, we learned that he shared our love of retro furniture and knick-knacks. In fact, they had lunch at Planet Juice and Peter crossed the street to visit one of our favorites, the Hospice Thrift Store, where he purchased a real prize: A Canonette camera.
• Camille and Sue Bauman were on hand when my interview was shot. Camille was very helpful and spent time chatting with Adrian — they really hit it off. She also took the photos of the crew filming us. One of the lights was malfunctioning so they had to fill using a large reflector, which Sue professionally handled. Peter thanked her for her work as a gaffer, but quickly added that she wouldn’t be in the credits. Shucks.
• I suppose my interview went well enough… a little over an hour and I only got choked up a few times. Peter later informed me that they shoot about 6 hours of film, in order to get about an hour they can use and, then, the editor works with it, which results in a 10 or 15 minute segment for the show.
• We planned to get some tape of me playing basketball at Gold Run School but, fortunately, the District backed out. The Glenn’s had graciously allowed us to use the court, which hosts the annual GLENNBA half court tournament. So, we packed up the gear and headed over there. It was a beautiful afternoon with Melanie, Sydney and Beau there to welcome our Australian visitors with their usual hospitality and charm. Zach signed a release to become an unpaid television star and we went to work on the court. It was really cool, because they got all kinds of shots of Zach getting “nothing but net,” which they will edit with snippets of me doing jumpshots, so I end up looking like some sort of marvel on the court. They also took a lot of closeups of Zach and I guarding one another, but focused on our legs and the ball being dribbled. Finally, we lowered the backboard so we could stuff it and they shot that, as well. It will be fun to see what makes it into the living rooms of millions… I hope this is Zach’s big break!
• Denise came home from work and they interviewed her. She was very direct and to the point… she was Denise. Then, we all gathered around the table for homemade lasagna, salad, bread, a little red wine and our new found mates regaled us with tales from down under. We had a wonderful time getting to know these wonderful blokes.
• We were all pretty exhausted, but met early the next day to shoot a reenactment at the Sierra Nevada Memorial Hospital. It was awesome! Steve, the PR man for the hospital, arranged to have an ambulance and three EMTs perform their life-saving techniques on me, as I drifted in and out of consciousness, spiraling into a coma. Trish, Tim and Steve were absolutely great! It was just as I remember it — the ambulance even smelled the same! Doctor Hunter in the ER was very accomodating and they were having a slow morning, so the folks in the ER were cheerful and seemed to enjoy the deviation. It was neat, because it was sunny and bright shooting the interviews, but the day of the reenactment was dreary and rainy, just as it was when this all took place seven years ago.
• We returned to our home, where the crew set up the living room to reenact me on the couch, uncomfortable and writhing with pain. They filmed me rubbing and looking at my right leg, which appears fairly normal, and they will reverse the film to make it look as if I’m concerned about my left leg. Pretty tricky, eh?
• At noon, they signed our family guestbook, left us a bag of Minties (excellent) and assorted Cadbury Favourites, and they were off to film other miracles of modern medicine! I have a feeling they will also be meeting a number of folks, who see a gracious and powerful God behind their survival, as my friends and I do.

Sadie tagged me on May 25, 2005. So, today I will be “it” and drive my blog even further out of relevance to the popular culture and run off any remaining visitors. My musical tastes are, how shall we say, out of the mainstream. These are definitely tunes which would never make it on to American Idol or the iPod of anyone under the age of 40 (I’m fairly certain… I’ve never even watched AI and I can’t imagine one of those Apple Silhouette Dancers gyrating and thrusting to choral music).

After this, I will talk a bit about what I’ve been reading: obscure works, which will bore any sympathetic hangers on to tears… little, if any, fiction.

Finally, I will nail the coffin shut as I move PietyHill Press to the purpose it was intended: a hub or pointer to essays on even more obscure interests like the occultation of the twelfth imam and the nature of prophecy in primitive Christian gatherings.

The last CD I bought was:

Eric Whitacre: The Complete A Cappella Works, 1991 – 2001 Denise surprised me on my birthday, by taking me to a performance of the Choir of the West at Grace Lutheran in Grass Valley. I absolutely love modern choral music and have searched for exactly the sound I have been longing for. The COTW performed Whitacre’s i thank You God for most this amazing day and I said to myself, “that’s it!” I bought this CD and it is flawless. I wrote to Mr. Whitacre about other artists I might like and he was kind enough to respond. i thank You God for most this amazing day is perfect: I cannot think of any composition of any style or genre, which is so absolutely wonderful.

Song Playing Right Now:
Our Town by Aaron Copland: Copland conducts Copland. This piece was composed for the 1940 film adaptation of Thornton Wilder’s Our Town and Copland was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Score. It is melancholy, which I seem to tend towards. It captures the feel of New England.

Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order):
I checked iTunes to see what the top 25 I’ve been playing are — the top five were not really a surprise. In my top 25 are Copland, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Concrete Blonde, Beck, Mike Roe and the 77’s. However, I will not use such a cold, empirical measurement to come up with my top five.

Unbalanced by the 77s
This is the perfect rock song with Mike Roe’s signature lyrics about unrequited love, a wide dynamic range of sound, Mike playing lead guitar at the top of his form and one of the most insane, quirky, seductive interplays between drums and bass I’ve ever heard. I get a kick out of playing it for drummers and asking them to tell me what’s going on. They eventually get it, but the expression on their faces says it all – Bruce Spencer is a total original.

The song opens with a muted snare (?) and then Mark Harmon joins with a monotonous groove on the bass. The beat, as the title suggests, is unbalanced and Mike Roe opines an out-of-whack love relationship:

I come with lines, you talk in circles
I own the blues, you rent the color purple
I scream for ice cream, you whisper for wine
You do your life, baby I do my time

I’ve got time, you’ve got none
You know all and I know some
I fall short, you stand tall
You conceal and I show it all

I like playgrounds, you love games
I nail things down and you rearrange
You loved early and I love late
You throw the dishes, babe I just clean my plate

You plant a family, I dig a space
I watch my back while you wash your face
You work for money and I play for fun
Babe you’re so inviting but I still can’t come

The song breaks into extended, crunchy soloing by Mike and slowly tones down into his wafting, melodic, “western” lead and chording reminiscent of the Ventures:

When I think of getting deeper with it baby
You throw on something deep and purple baby

The song builds and builds, frustration and confusion, until poor Mike blurts out:

Unlike me diggin’ Donnie Lee and the Children of Truth babe
Sit down! Shut up! listen to me go crazy…

At that, Mike unleashes a frenetic barrage of wah-wah and distortion with Mark Harmon picking up on the bass and Bruce Spencer wildly banging and crashing everything within reach (is Mike punching the wall? Is she throwing the dishes?). The song fades out with what sounds like the disoriented, surreal confusion following a domestic disturbance. Finally, it concludes with a one-minute restatement of the complaint and then, silence.

Boum! by Blossom Dearie
Blossom Dearie is the most delightful singer I’ve ever heard. Her music simply makes me feel good! She is a jazz singer from the be-bop period and I heard that Miles Davis would have her open for him at the Vanguard Club. She was a great piano player and had to accompany herself whenever she sang — even in the studio. She traveled to France early in her career, so a number of her songs are in French. Boum! is just such a song and it is fun!

Tomorrow, Wendy by Concrete Blonde
This is a sad, haunting song by Andy Prieboy, which I believe is about a young woman he actually knew, who died of AIDS. Johnette Napolitano’s sultry voice is perfectly suited to this complaint to God for the untimely death of someone dear. The lyrics are tough for a Christian to listen to. But, it will take you into the mind of a sensitive, thoughtful skeptic with a religious background, who can’t quite embrace atheism, expressing a resigned anger towards God. This “outsiders” view of the suffering and death of Christ is so accurate, so insightful. One can only conclude that, if they will simply surrender and believe, they will have a stronger grasp of the theology of the cross than the mass of evangelicals. James Mankey’s guitar work deserves mention. It’s almost cliché, because the former Sparks guitarist is so outstanding, but I am amazed at how many effects or sounds he employs in one song. Yet, it never seems overdone or gaudy. He is the master of textures… of applying layers of sound behind a song. Tomorrow, Wendy is a fine example of rough, perceptive “biker poetry.”

The Jig Is Up by Michael Roe, live on It’s For You
I have a feeling this is autobiographical for Mike Roe. It’s a pretty, folky, acoustic song. I have to say that I am drawn to it, because it captures my sense of utter dependence upon Jesus… my total unworthiness… how I always let Jesus down… how He is always there, in the end.

I won’t go gently into that bad earth,
I will fight for you with all that’s in me, for all that it’s worth
Can I run to you forever?
Cause, if I can’t run to you forever, how can I run to you now?
You live on my doorstep,
Is there room in my heart?

A Tie!
The Lark Ascending and Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Ralph Vaughan Williams
I think I enjoy Vaughan Williams the most when he takes a traditional English folk song, a poem from the 19th century or the work of an older composer, like Thomas Tallis, and then casts it in a modern classical fantasy, employing modern instruments. This is the best of the genre.

This was too hard… music has been such a force in my life… it could have been a very negative force, if I had not gotten it under control by bringing it under Christ. How can I close without mentioning Bill Mallonee, Ofra Haza, Thelonius Monk, Cowboy Junkies, The Cure, Little Feat, Jennifer Knapp, The Altar Boys, Living Colour, T-Bone Burnett, Charlie Parker, Frederick Delius…

Has anyone read this post to the end? Then you, the reader, have been tagged.

Sam’s exhibit will be running from July 7 to August 6 2005 at the Alison Jaques Gallery in London. We’ll keep you posted when we have the date in Brussells.

I promised Zombieslayer a post about my short venture into the world of record producers, fusion guitarists, “shred-heads” and, of course, those vultures who bring all fun to a halt — lawyers and record distributors. Dear ZS… I hope this meets with your approval.

One day sometime in 1990, I believe, I came home from work and Denise told me she had met some new neighbors and they were real nice. She said that “Mark” produced and recorded music – he was working on a children’s CD. I remember thinking to myself, “So, what’s new… everyone in Nevada City is recording a CD.” Well, we got together for dinner and I met Mark Varney and his charming family. He was a school psychologist and we talked about everything except music. The conversation turned to faith, so we invited them to church. One Sunday, Mark and I were chatting after our gathering and he told me that his brother was a record producer – Mike Varney. I said, “Do you mean Mike Varney of The Nuns?” His mouth dropped open and he said, “You’ve heard of The Nuns?” I said, “Sure, I’m a huge John Cipollina fan.” Well, we were instant pals and began gushing on about shared guitar heroes. he asked if I’d ever heard of Allan Holdsworth. “Sure! Gong and UK!”

As it turned out, Mark had his own record label, Legato Records. He had signed Frank Gambale and was about to produce a CD with Gambale and Holdsworth shredding over some fusion standards, with Chick Corea’s Elektric Band.

Here are some of the highlights of our association with Legato Records:

• Denise became the office and business manager, the FAX machine and phone were in our closet and much of the Legato catalogue resided in our basement!
• As the office and business manager, Denise had a wonderful phone relationship with some of the hottest young guitar talent of the late 80’s and early 90’s. As one unaffected by stardom and fame, she was the perfect “mother figure” to shepherd many a young, aspiring Berklee student through the contract process and into the grinder, er, I mean the music business.
• After proving ourselves competent and discriminating in our taste for searing guitar solos, Mark delegated to us the responsibility of picking up the five or six demo tapes we received daily at the PO Box and screening them. Mark was a busy man. I remember fondly coming home from work and playing speed metal, fusion and other forms of guitorture, full blast as Denise cooked supper.
• I drove Mark to Los Angeles to record Truth in Shredding and we stayed at my in-laws house for the weekend in the studio. I got to carry the master tapes (joy!).
• We found Frank Gambale at his home… he had just finished tiling his bathroom floor… part of a remodel he was doing himself. Frank was absolutely wonderful.
• We sat in the sound booth through the entire recording, with Frank Gambale soloing within a few feet, while the Elektric Band shared the studio. It was recorded live with very few retakes or overdubs.
• Mark and I drove the masters to Allan Holdsworth’s home, where we met his wonderful wife and children. Alan, his wife, Mark and I went out for supper at a posh Indian restaurant in Costa Mesa.
• Alan is a huge brew fan, so I joined him for a beer at his home.
• We left the masters with Alan, who recorded his solos and mixed the final CD in “The Brewery,” his private studio.

Another highlight was going down to the NAMM show in Anaheim in January to hobnob with the industry big-wigs and legendary musicians. I rubbed elbows with John Sebastian, Steve Morse, Neil Schon, Jorma Kaukonen and another hero, Harvey Mandel… In 1993, we got VIP passes to the Ibanez Axe Attack, a jam featuring Steve Vai, Joe Satriani, Shawn Lane, Paul Gilbert, Reb Beach and a few others I don’t recall… Lanny Cordola, perhaps?

But, it was really fun when the guys signed to Legato or appearing on Guitar on the Edge stopped by our booth. For example, here’s Mark with Blues Saraceno. As I recall, he was there with his dad, because he was too young to get his driver’s license. Quite the prodigy! And, he was very nice… In fact, all of the guys we met were smart, focused, polite and a pleasure to work with.

Renowned finger-picker Muriel Anderson was as sweet as could be. She and Denise got along very nicely. She’s also tiny, so we took a photo of her standing next to Mark on a chair.

Mike Varney, Mark’s famous brother and creator of Shrapnel Records dropped by to hand out promotional goodies! The fellow laughing on the left is Todd Duane, my personal favorite of all the guitarists Mark worked with. I spoke to him about his style and he explained that what I described about his music was the result of his being a drummer before he played guitar. He approaches the guitar as a percussion instrument! And, a heck of a nice guy… a real gentleman.

Tom joined Mark and I for this show and we got a photo of him with the legendary, now deceased, Shawn Lane.

But, best of all was our “trophy girl,” Denise. The guys all got a kick, finally meeting the “office manager” from the closet!

Yes, there we have many fond memories of the few years we were “in the music business.” But, the best thing of all was finding lifelong friends in Mark Varney and his family.