Doug Van Pelt

Love = The most excellent way

So, if Christianity is just a myth. If the life and claims of its central figure are all made up and orchestrated by some crafty conspiracy, there is still reason to be a Christian. Even if it's a myth, we've still got a tremendous philosophy -- LOVE.

What could be a better message? Love others, period.

Even if we were a cosmic accident, nothing but animals with extraordinary cognitive abilities, the message of Jesus about how to live completely rules (in the "it's really really cool" sense, not the monarchist one).

PlayRadioGuestList

Even though it was just hours after pretty much finishing deadline, I dragged myself and my daughter out to Emo's to see a show. I had forgotten that PlayRadioPlay! was doing a show with Yellowcard last night. I had emailed the publicist earlier in the morning to ask for streaming content for the Texas album by the band, since I had not yet rated it for this issue. In between finding the album on the shelf I got an email back from her that said something like, "Enjoy the show!" That's how I found out or remembered that there was a show and that I was on the guest list (+1) with a photopass.

When I arrived and handed the guy at the door my driver's license, he couldn't find my name on the bands' list, the other list, or the willcall list. Rather than throw a fit like I've looked down my nose upon in the past, I thanked him and went over to the band entrance on the sidewalk and stood there and listened to their set. At least I got to hear the melodic band play its fine music. They did sound really good. It was a sold-out show, so the audience seeing them was nice and full.

Before they went on I met a couple of the nicest guys, who were in a band called Kiros. They are on a Canadian label distributed in the US by Victory Records. I stood out on the sidewalk and listened to some of their set, too. Afterwards I talked to a guy named Zulton, Ryan, and Tyler. I found out about their annual treks to Cornerstone and how their tour was going. They were out with The Audition and four other bands. With distro by Victory, I had expected to hear some intense hardcore, but they were very melodic and sing-along-able. The label on their CD says: "A Hope Inspired Melodic Experiment. This Record Will Change You... For Fans Of Jimmy Eat World, Relient K, and Anberlin. That's a fair comparison. I'm looking forward to digging into their new album, A Single Strand.

So, even though the night started in frustration, it ended well. And, of course, seeing how we were headed back home earlier than expected, we stopped at Waterloo Records (where I almost picked up the new album by The Recaunters) and Amy's Ice Cream.

Finished proof/visual stage

Wow, I'm zapped.
Just finished printing the 88th page of proofs to overnight to the printer (actually for Monday delivery). Very tired. Listening to Undercover live, but will soon retire before waking up to drive to Fed Ex.

This issue is going to rule. Very exciting things to report. I look forward to describing, explaining here soon.

It was sad to see Haley go tonight. She's been another great intern. She did really well here. I wish her the best.

The latest Thrice piece

Houston, we have a problem.
Los Angeles, New York, anyone ... please help!

We have an advance copy of the new Thrice album (Volumes III & IV of The Alchemy Index), but the advance anti-piracy coded disc won't play in nine different players we've tried it in. It's kind of important to have this part of the 4-part series reviewed, but I guess we'll have to wait until the next issue and we have a "real" copy. The publicist phone seems to be disconnected and we get no replies to our emails. Oh well, at least I can vent about it one my blog.

Oh! Did I say that out loud?!

I've got a lot to say to you | Go, Paramore, Go! | Coke Zero Rules!

When you can't make up your mind, go with three headlines!
PacMan Jones a Cowboy? Wow.
Chad Johnson? Oh wow.

I am midweek in the last week of deadline. I am very confident that the scoreboard will go down in the "W" column this time. Now it's Deadline 06 - DVP 02. I think I'll be at 03 when Friday ends. We'll see. I am super stoked about this issue. We've got two really good cover stories -- P.O.D. and Showbread. Yep, it's our third "Double Flip" cover issue in three years. In addition to those two stories, we've got: a missions trip journal type story written by Josh Dies of Showbread; a similar story I wrote about our trip to Uganda; stories on Kevin Max; Run Kid Run; Destroy The Runner; Soul Embraced; Ivoryline; Kittie (Says); Holy Blood; With Blood Comes Cleansing; Oceana; a "primer" on Southern Metal; and the longest article in HM Magazine history (8 pages!) -- "The Christian Rock Experiment." I asked two guys to only listen to Christian Rock (if they were pretty much a regular non-Christian Rock listener) and/or "secular" Rock (if they pretty much usually only listened to Christian Rock). The Christian who rarely listens to Christian Rock but had to for the 30 days of January this year was Mark Salomon (who fronted The Crucified, Stavesacre, and (don't tell anyone) Neon Horse, not to mention his hiphop project from the early 90s, Native Son). He did an awesome job and can be thanked for making the story 8 pages long. His side of the story is like a manifesto of what's wrong with Christian Rock and what needs to change. The Christian who rarely listens to secular rock but could only listen to it or nothing for 30 days was Tom Denlinger (who fronted Sardonyx and sang on The Scream of the Guillotine project, as well as currently playing with Just Rain). I think it's a great read. Oh, and there's a tribute to Larry Norman ... and a poster of Larry, too.

How's that for a great May/June issue?

I Am Legend

I just got done watching I Am Legend. Wow, what a strange film. Yeah, the cgi of the lion and other animals and hybrid creatures was kind of lame, but the story was oddball in a futuristic sci-fi sorta way. I sure hope we never face a catastrophe like that (where a virus basically wipes everyone out). I hope that an energy crisis doesn't result in massive blackouts, etc. I was a wee lad in the mid-70s when the "Energy Crisis" happened and gas prices soared to over 50 cents a gallon. In some places, they peaked at about 70 cents a gallon. There was a perceived gas shortage and there were long lines at gas stations and many people started buying locks for their gascaps, to prevent gas theft. People used cyphens (sometimes just tubes, sucking on one end to get a vacuum going) to rip off gas. Can you believe it? I don't hear people calling this gas price hike an "energy crisis," but it sure bugs me.

Anyway, hopefully this deadline will finish as smooth and easily as I envision. It will involve a lot of hard work, but being able to finish it without zapping my body of its natural energy would be nice. We could be nearing the peak point of the majority of last-minute effort soon. I'm about to expand the magazine to make a really cool feature a lot longer, which will be much easier to lay out. Having space and pages is a wonderful thing in laying out and design. Having too little room means cutting corners and cramming text into smaller places. It makes an impact on what the eye feels when it sees the page. It's either real inviting, drawing you in; or it's unappealing and kind of pushes your eyes away, making them uncomfortable.

Death of a possum

The interns sometimes miss all the good stuff.
So, yesterday I was working a typical Thursday latenight and especially later due to deadline workload. Around dusk my dog (Biscuit Buddy McGillicutti) signalled to me that he needed to go outside. As I opened the door, I noticed the American flag was still up. As I was taking it down, I noticed the dog had spotted something and was running like a rocket to chase it down. Apparently the animal stayed put, kind of backed up to the fenceline that borders the road by our HM ranch. It looked like a dark tabby cat from where I was. I started talking to it, calling out as if it spoke English, then I made a few kissing sounds.

Yeah, I'm a tough farmer/country type, I know. As I got closer, I realized it wasn't a cat. I bet it was a possum. Probably the one or one of the ones that have been habitating underneath the building that houses our office. Sure enough, it was a possum. Man, it looked just like the one that a friend of mine pulled out (dead) from underneath our place a few years ago, all dead and smelly. These things have a long, pointy snout and web-like fingers or claws on each paw. A very long, skinny tail, kind of like an overgrown rat meets an anteater. A wild looking beast. It has lots of sharp-looking teeth, too. This guy stood his ground, held his mouth open to reveal its teeth and kind of hissed like a cat or something: "haaahhhh ... haaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!"

I had recently purchased a bb pistol, but didn't think that'd kill such an animal. I tried to think of what I could grab that would kill it. I asked my dog to stay put and keep the animal there. I didn't want it to escape and lose this opportunity to get rid of one of the pests that damages and stinks up our office. My dog turned and tried to follow me a couple of times. I don't think he wanted any piece of that fiesty animal. I commanded him to stay and "sick 'em." I actually had to run back in the house, where the pistol was, and don my shoes. I had tip-toed out to this spot on the grass in my socks, but if I was going to do battle with a ferocious animal, I wanted some shoes on. I grabbed a sharp, four-pronged hoe from our shed, along with a tall T-post. I donned a pair of gloves, and hoped that I didn't miss. It stayed there, alright. I imagined missing or having this little critter attack my ankles or, more likely, run away. When I decided upon the hoe as my weapon, I tossed the T-post about 5-10 yards away from the guy. I knew that the noise of that heavy post hitting the ground might send him running, but thankfully it did not. I said a little prayer, asking for God's help. I imagined missing on my first swing could turn into a barnyard fiasco, with lots of running around and such. I told the dog to back off and I swung that hoe up above my head and brought it down with all my might and my best aim. I didn't see it impact. I guess I closed my eyes with all the straining of muscles in the quick action. The prongs did not stick into his flesh, so I thought I might've missed him. He started flopping around like I'd severed his spinal cord or damaged his brain, though. I swung as hard as I could several more times, trying to pierce him like a fork. After four or five swings, the hoe/spike/four-pronged part of the weapon had fallen off. I wasn't sure if I broke the wooden handle near the end or not. I tossed the hoe, used my gloved right hand to pick it up by his tail. I was worried that he'd be alive and mad enough to swing around and try to scratch and bite me. Fortunately, though, he was dead. I walked him over to my barrel, which was burning trash. My dog jumped up once and got some of the animal in his mouth. I told him "No," but couldn't stop the motion. Poor dog got some blood on him. There was a fairly steady trickle of blood from the possum's mouth and a pinkish looking thing was hanging out. I knew it couldn't be brain matter, but it surprised me at first. It was his long tongue hanging out. I tossed him in the barrell and let his carcas burn. If there's any left next week, I'll put some propellent on it and burn it to ashes.

I've posted some drawings of the event for your amusement. You can print these out, cut 'em into 3x5 cards and make it a little flip-book if you'd like. I'm hoping to see someone show up at Cornerstone with one of these this year. Ha ha.

Special Double-Flip Deadline

Well, it's deadline time. We should be able to make this one without too many late nights in a row. Most all of the writing is finished and turned in, which leaves lots of the fun stuff -- design and layout. While I still need to listen to and rate the albums we're reviewing, this also gives me time to listen to music that I "don't have to" listen to, but can choose to listen to. U2's How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, for example. Mute Math's self-titled album, for another. Or Muse's Black Holes & Revelations.

I'll share some visuals as I have time.

I wish we had a cable modem here. This satellite thing (hughes.net) is not the best or fastest. Grrrr.

One of my fellow Ugandan bloggers has found a cool resource. This came from David Kuo, who recently posted this cool little video.

SXSW.08.08

I was starting to feel the wear and tear of several nights in a row that is the SXSW music marathon. At least on Saturday I did not have to wake up at 6am (after a 3am hitting of the bed) to take my kids to school. Still, I was spent and only took in one last show on this final night of the festival. Edison Glass played at a small venue usually reserved for the likes of Esther's Follies, a Saturday Night Live or Second City Revue type comedy troupe that entertains crowds every weekend. Being an Austinite for 27 years now, you'd think I would have taken in one of these dramatic performances. At least now I know where the good seats are... The bassist (Josh Morin) for this band has an amazing falsetto voice, which fits in well with frontman Joshua Silverberg's more midrange vocals. The band utilizes some very non-plus (and mostly black & white) videos on the back screen. It's a cool effect that adds another dimension to their progressive sound. The car footage in the third song was rad. "See Through Me" (from their new album, Time Is Fiction) had some looped and heavily reverb-ed guitar fills. This band is simply tasteful and tight. Thought-provoking lyrics, music, and visuals. Nice. "This House" is another example of impressive song compositions, with its dichotomy between rising vocals and dischordant power chords. I now have a new respect for the band. I talked to their A&R guy for the third time this week (Chris York), who told me it was his favorite band of his (on Credential Recordings). I can see why.

SXSW.08.07

I re-visited The Bat Bar on Friday night to catch Daniel Lanois' set. Lots of atmospheric chords filled the air, making one almost want to look up to see the notes floating up and around. This guy sure knows how to produce great records, and he's no slouch when it comes to performing good live music, too. I'm looking forward (and hoping for) another DVD release called SXSW Live to come out within the next 12 months to check this out. Not only to look for myself in the crowd (ha ha, what a goofy egotistical thing that I bet everyone there does), but to once again hear how great it sounded. The light show, it goes without saying, was spectacular -- not overbearing or even out of place, but certainly at full tilt and always going.





Much later I walked back to another outdoor tent that housed Ernie Ball's showcase with MxPx and Story of the Year. MxPx went on and stormed through "Punk Rawk Show," the title track to their newest album, Secret Weapon, a Descendents' cover, and "Lock & Key." The crowd was loyal and into it -- so much so, in fact, that a thick circus-tent kind of support rope was moved about so violently that it looked like it might pull down the tent and large metal beam right into the crowd. The band sounded as energetic and "on" as ever. I had to bail, though, after just four songs, as I had to schlepp a good mile West to see Paramore headline La Zona Rosa at 12:30 am. I can't believe I made it there in time, and I'm glad I got a chance to jump into the photo pit. I hope I got at least one good song (out of the 100 or so I probably took).





Paramore's first three songs were new (and maybe one of them was even brand new, as I didn't recognize it), and their fourth was from All We Know Is Falling. This was one of those fun shows where it didn't matter how late at night (or early morning) it was. There was a perma-smile on my face the whole time. Before "Misery Business" Hayley Williams had the crowd finger-snapping along like a beatnik crowd of Jazz enthusiasts. She hit all the high notes, nailing them like a powerhouse vocalist twice her size. Many times during the show, it was apparent how popular the band is getting by the way Hayley paused to let the crowd finish chorus lines. During "Let The Flames Begin," the band headbanged like the arena rockers they can be (whenever they want).





Some of the fun between-song banter included the revelation and news that drummer Zac Farro just puked his guts out (or, specifically, some Tex Mex food). Perhaps mercifully, the band went into the slow song "When It Rains." Maybe it wasn't a spontaneous choice for allowing a rest, because the band punched in en masse with tight exclamations in empty spaces. Man, this band is good! Hayley pointed out that all the gamers in the Rock Band tent area were wailing on their instruments quite well, tricking her into thinking that the actual bands were playing live nearby. Sure, Hayley...





Late into the set I noticed another tight musician thing: a seemless segue into "That's What You Get" at the tail end of another. This nice and long set left me as happy when it was over as during about any time during the thing. I even broke a major long-held personal rule on the way back to my car -- I pulled out my iPod and listened to Riot in its entirety.





Later on it occured to me: three of my biggest highlights this year were by female-fronted bands. Am I becoming a wimp now, or what?

SXSW.08.06 Like an anointing running down bands of hair

Thursday, March 13 was the second night of massive showcases/concerts as part of South By Southwest's Music Festival. It was both festive and high quality. I'm sure there was a mediocre showcase here or there in one of the 60+ venues hosting official showcases, but I didn't come across it. The first musical order of business for me was to catch the reunited Sixpence None The Richer. I mockingly complained to those around me in the tiny club, "There's a lot better places than this to see, huh?" We were only right in the center and about 5 feet from the stage where this legendary band was going to show us the "magic" again. It's been years since they took the stage together, but they sounded as tight and into it as if they'd been on tour all winter long. They flew through gems like "There She Goes," "Melody Of You" and "Eyes Wide Open" with a seeming ease and flawless perfection. There sound is very simple -- with just drums, piano/rhodes, bass, guitar and vocals -- but it sounds so ... so beautiful and clean. I asked my friend to choose one: Matt Slocum's guitar tones or Leigh Nash's vocals. He couldn't choose one, because they're both necessary ingredients and highlights. Of course, they played "Kiss Me," complete with a matter-of-fact confession that the song had supposedly taken their career to new heights. It was a humble admission of a fact. The time passed by quickly, but there wasn't a rushed note or a wasted one, for that matter. The sounds of "Breathe Your Name" washed over us like small waves on the beach. It was hard to beat a performance like this. In my thoughts, I figured it was 'all downhill from here,' as this was definitely a highlight of the conference.


I ducked into the Austin Convention Center for a show at the Bat Bar, which housed many live performances that were broadcast live via Direct TV. Last year a bunch of us saw The Polyphonic Spree display their wonderous audio and video experience. The satellite network transforms one giant convention center room into two separate sound stages, with attractively decorated walls a great sound mix, and several cameras. On this night the band Hanson showed that the rumors were true -- this trio of brothers had matured, both physically and sonically. No longer the "MmmBop" boy-band, they were a tight musical band of the rock variety. They've added a fourth member on bass. I refused to believe it until I heard it, but it's true. These lads can rock well. It's fairly standard melodic and middle-of-the-road rock, but it's impressive. Equally impressed were friends in the crowd, like P.O.D.'s Traa Daniels, who was in town promoting and networking for his Ryot Phoenix label and management group; as well as Scott Brinson and the crew at the Bandwagon merchandise company.





Mike Farris had a large, standing-room-only crowd at the sideways layout of the infamous Antone's club. The people were very much there to see him perform, even though the illustrious Americana Music Association bill included such luminaries as Buddy Miller, Joe Ely, and Marcia Ball. This guy finds a way to bring the whole kitchen sink on about every song (backup singers, horn section, rhodes, drums, bass, lead, acoustic guitar and sometimes tamborine), but he's got soul and all the ingredients add to that -- not distracting or becoming too busy. A big fat blusey groove in all its simplicity is so sweet and powerful. A room full of people at Antone's were certainly loving it. Playing song after song from Salvation In Lights, Farris took all the energy in the room, yet left the crowd wanting more.





I went over to La Zona Rosa early, for I didn't want to miss the Flyleaf show due to over-crowded conditions (as has happened before at every SXSW when one picks the wrong show to try attend right at showtime). Turns out I was way early, as the scheduling had changed slightly from initial lists. This allowed me to refresh with a drink of water and watch several Rock Band enthusiasts go at it with vigor on some choice flat panel tvs under a tent at the venue. Very fun. I contemplated heading out to catch Buddy Miller's or Anathallo's sets, but opted for the safe route and chilled on a lounger for a good hour. I wondered if Flyleaf would go on precisely at their posted time or not, because word had it that the band had just returned from a trip to Africa with World Vision that very same day. I happen to know how draining a trip like that can be, so I expected a possible tired or even sloppy set.





Boy, was I surprised. I don't like to throw around the phrase "anointed" too often. In fact, it's almost an embarrassing thing to state -- unless, of course, there are two or three other witnesses that will say the same thing. It's usually a very subjective thing that involves oowie-gooey emotional fluffies and not much else. Heck, when the band came out after the lights went out and the crowd sent a roar of approval, I figured it was just another rock show out of many that night. I didn't even see little Lacey Mosley enter the stage. I thought that maybe she'd make a grand entrance at just the right time, but then I heard a vocal at center stage in front of the drum riser. I guess she entered with the guys in a small cluster and got overshadowed with her entrance. She was singing the worship song "I Love You, Lord," accompanied by a swell of sound from the band. I've often thought this song should be covered by Styper, as the verses have a rest that just begs for a thundering tom smash or bass drum kick between each. I still think it'd be a good idea for the metal band. This young metal crew, however, played it slow and simple. I thought it was kind of neat, but didn't notice anything particularly powerful or special about it.


"...and I lift my voice
to worship You
oh my soul, rejoice
Take joy, my King
in what You hear
...let it be a sweet, sweet sound
in Your ear."


Then the band rocked into gear and everyone cut loose with energy and noise. The band didn't look tired. Perhaps their eyes showed a weariness, but they forced their bodies to keep moving. It seemed they weren't about to let this frenzied crowd down. It was definitely not apparent from any viewpoints that they'd just made a 20+ airplane trip. Wow. Tunes like "Fully Alive" grooved and swung with volume and power. I kept waiting for bassist Pat Seals to flatten Lacey with his spinning headstock after landing one of his hundred or so launches from his little ramp by his monitor wedge. La Zona Rosa is not a very large stage, but Flyleaf showed their veteran experience on stage by using every spare space with audience affirming glances and pacing back and forth to interact with each other. At one point a road manager came out with set lists and used a Sharpie to mark off a song on one of the guitarist's posted lists. I guess maybe they were running out of time. More than a few songs followed, though, only "I'm So Sick" not making the show. Without taking notes, I'd venture to say that they played every other song on their Octone Records self-titled debut (which just went platinum). When they ripped through "Cassie," it was hard not to think of the song's story. The band was playing it at the same speed or faster than the album's version, with Lacey's vocal cadence not pausing for effect much at all. The crowd sure knew the song, as hands and arms filled the air all through the club. By the time the band ended, it achieved what a hard rock or metal show should: the audience was attacked with sound, they responded with affirmative joy, and everyone was tired but exhilerated.





It wasn't like any sermons were preached, but I realized that during the entire set my eyes were welling up and wanting to burst with tears and my heart seemed to be poised for worship, just itching to embrace God with words of adoration and praise. I don't know if you'd call that an anointed concert or not, but wow. Someone shared with me the next day that they appreciated or liked hearing the band start off with a worship song, and that felt like one Christian telling another that the band they'd seen was "good enough" to be counted as holy, but it didn't do anything for me. What was weird, though, is that whenever I'd describe the show to anyone, I almost wanted to start balling. I actually choked up a few times (holding my emotions in check like a good macho man, of course). I guess I could chalk this up to maybe someone praying that God would show up at this show and make His presence known and/or God choosing to do just that as part of His sovereign will. All I know is how I felt then and still feel now.





I headed down Sixth Street to hear The New Frontiers at The Thirsty Nickel. It was a super tiny stage that is partitioned off with a small banister surrounding about a ten square foot area for a drumset and not much else to fit into -- yet this newly signed Militia Group outfit stuffed bass, keyboards/piano, and two guitarists into that spot. What was so refreshing about this band is how great the vocals of Nathan Pettijohn sound -- especially accompanied by his mates on BGVs. It's pretty amazing how brand new songs, like "Black Lungs" and "Walking On Stones" sounded so familiar already. They're just good, solid melodies that wrap themselves inside you quick. Even the lilting slower ballad, "Man Down," was infectious. Dang, this band is good!


It was now past 1:30 in the morning, but I was still pushing on to see one more band. It was Vedera (fka Veda) playing at a small specially crafted "venue" from a hotel meeting room as part of the Hilton Garden Inn. I went to several spots in and around the hotel only to find out later that this particular spot (Creekside EMC at Hilton Garden Inn) was locked from the inside down a hall and at the end of the building. Another guy and I pulled on the door and looked through the glass as the band set up and a small audience waited. Turns out we were honest-to-goodness "locked out" of this one. Oh well, after waiting patiently for a good 30 to 40 seconds, I turned and called it a night, beginning my mile-long march to my parked car. That was Day Two of the SXSW Music Fest, and it was good.

pre-SXSW.08.06

Until I recover from the body-wrenching energy drain of SXSW, you'll just have to watch this video of a death metal dog.


break.com/index/death-metal-puppy

SXSW.08.05

Tuesday was a pleasant day. I went to an artist roundtable, where the room full of us talked about the line between good and evil, appropriate versus not, secular and sacred. Many film makers of faith were tossing the question about where to draw the line concerning content (profanity, nudity, etc). The concept of the Bible itself clearly being R or even NC-17 rated was brought up right away. The Song of Solomon, for example, is not really kiddie/Sunday School fare. It's all about context, was the consensus. The Bible has incredibly graphic violence and sex in its narrative and poetry, but it's in context.

Having fellowship with creative people and, I hesitate to say it, like-minded people, is always refreshing and edifying. Now, to clarify about the hesitation: there is great diversity in a room like that, but we're all endeavoring to fuse our faith with our art ... and THAT is the common ingredient that notches the edification factor up by 10.

Heavy Metal In Bagdad
This movie was an outstanding experience. Like many an indie film, it was an up-close and personal film that showed a rare glimpse of the Iraq War. It began with the director putting on a bullet-proof vest, underscoring the very real danger he faced making this documentary. Anyone speaking English on the street and anyone looking Western was a target over there with insurgents. Another early attention getter was the bombastic and thundering metal grooves and riffs raging through the sound system, cut in with real bombs and rockets going off. It was a metal video editor's dream come true, but it was perfectly contextualized with real footage. Nice.

The only metal band to exist in Iraq is called Acrassicauda. They're actually pretty good ... and darn powerful. Their lead guitar player, Tony, has feel and speed -- a great combination. The whole band has a real good sense of heavy groove. They don't want to be "a pretty good band for a bunch of Iraqi refugees, they want to be a good metal band, period." They are well on their way. I'd imagine that someone from the multi-million dollar tax bracket of Metallica would see this film and be moved to adopt them. The film makers (a guy from Vice Magazine, which one of our former interns from Canada has worked at for many years) tried to stay aware of the line of separation between the filmmaker and its subjects, but they crossed it and helped the band record a 3-song demo after they'd fled to Syria (the same country that a family had fled to in another documentary I saw, Full Battle Rattle), as lots of Iraqui's are fleeing there every single day. The band is currently in Instanbul, Turkey.

Having the director present after the US Premiere screening was great, as usual. He dished out plenty of information. The band grew up and evolved in a musical/cultural bubble, influenced only by music they could get their hands on, which was obviously limited to bands like Slayer, etc. Anyone wanting to help the band can donate to a paypal fund, found at their website, heavymetalinbagdad.com, or their myspace page. This movie will have a limited theatrical run in May; followed by a DVD release in June. At one point in time, the director (Suroosh Alvi) said, "this generation in Iraq had a 100% literacy rate," which very few countries can say about its young people. That revelatory bit of information was interesting to hear in the Q&A afterwards. Many misconceptions about Iraq are blown to bits by this documentary. When asked if there were other film crews risking life and limb in Iraq, the director pointed to another film called Dreams Of Sparrows.

What was so amazing about the film was that it was a raw inside perspective of the Iraq War. These guys had interaction with the American forces shortly after the invasion, but relations made it dangerous to keep that kind of interaction later after the insurgents brought a full-blown civil war to the country. The point is that these guys are not anti-American. We see their hardship upclose and personal. Very insightful. As an artist of "Western style" music, they are not really embraced by their culture, though they'd get 300, 400, even 500 people to their shows, which have been very rare (about 6 in their 5-year history). At the end of the movie, one of the guys in the band unleashes a rant full of rage to his better-off metal comrades in the West, cursing at them for being able to turn a channel or switch off the hardship they deal with daily. It's quite an eye-popping film. Wow.





Daniel Lanois
I went over to this crazy new safar-type club to catch part of Daniel Lanois' set. It was super dreamy and atmospheric (surprise, surprise!), and sounded just great. Lots of pedal steel guitar and groove, complex yet laid back drumming.










Dan Dyer
I hustled about a mile away to see Dan Dyer play at Momo's, only to discover that they were operating on "Momo's time," which seems to be awfully late/behind (every time I go there, it seems). Another Southern Rock-ish/Blues driving band was onstage. I stared at the singer/guitarist, just making sure Dan had not gained considerable weight and grown over a foot of hair since I'd seen him last. I wrote a note to the doorman, asking him, "Where is Dan Dyer?" (wondering if the set had been cancelled or was running late). He wrote back on my pad of paper: "Red bandana, no pants." (laughter) I wasn't interested in finding him and talking to him (though I did bring some copies of the issue #110 that featured his "So & So Says" interview), and I wondered if he was going to perform semi-nude or something. Thankfully, that was not the case. Dyer and company did not take the stage until 12:50am, only 10 minutes from the start of Jon Foreman's set that I wanted to see about 1.5 miles away (gasp!). Frustration aside, he sounded good. Very different than the slicker sounds of his ...Of What Lies Beneath album (produced by Lenny Kravitz). This all sounded more stripped-down and sparse -- even spacing out some of the vocal phrasing. "Red Alert" started things off, which slightly altered lyrics, I think. The oboe added a nice vibe to the song, as did Dyer's acoustic guitar, electric guitar and drums. "Stereosonic" came next, which was also slower and spaced apart. A new song (I think) about sand castles was next. It had a nice groove, with electric bass instead of oboe. A guest female vocal (Suzanne Choffel) accompanied him also. I left after the fourth song, which was about "Playing On." Ironic twist.










Jon Foreman
Jon was in his element, telling stories, relaxed, joking around, and sounding just awesome vocally. I had heard that it was slightly rough at first, but the last 3 or 4 songs I heard were just spot-on and sounding real good -- high notes being hit with accuracy and feeling. A guy named Keith accompanied Jon (with acoustic guitar in hand) on oboe, making for a nice segue for my personal club hopping experience. I was surprised to hear him do "24" from his Switchfoot catalog. He explained that he'd written it the day before he turned 25.

CCM

By the way, if you are a subscriber to CCM Magazine, you are being offered five options to deal with the remaining issues of your subscription; one of which is to transfer your subscription in-kind to HM Magazine. What "in-kind" means, of course, is: if you have 4 issues left in your CCM subscription, you'll get 4 issues of HM; if you have 11, you'll get 11. Go to ccmmagazine.com/offer for this information.

We are glad to partner with them as they transition out of print+online into an all digital online-only format. We wish them the best and I personally hope to continue being involved on the writing side of things with them, as I have in the past.

Just like Judas' Kiss: A blogger's betrayal

Okay, that's a little bit dramatic, but one of the factors I considered before I hit the "save" button on my post last night was the nature of the spoof review I wrote. 'Will people trust me after a deceptive piece of writing like that?' My conclusion is, 'Of course they will.' After all, I didn't let it sit there unclaimed or un-announced. I owned up to it before it was over (not a real test of satire or spoof, I'm afraid). The final paragraph reveals the truth -- that the whole review was a gag. When my wife read it, though, she didn't like it. She doesn't like to be led along and then surprised with an "I was only kidding" type zinger after having her emotions pulled in one direction. I understand that.

Every once in a while I do something odd like that. The "list" would include forming a band called Lust Control; giving a friend a rubber snake nailed to a placque, along with explaining to all of his friends that this represents his lie telling; preaching on the West Mall at UT and using profanity to get my points across; what else have I done that's odd? I'm sure there's more things to add. Not that this movie review was some great controversial thing, but I do like to take risks and push the envelope a little. I think life is more exciting that way. The hard part of the equation is, of course, I need to stand up and face it if the situation backfires. Risking that, though, means if it "works," then the satisfaction that comes with that can be enjoyed, as well.

I hesitate to post this right now (this morning), as perhaps some haven't yet read the movie review I'm refering to. I'll let this sit for awhile.

What is it about lies that bothers us? Could it be that we long for absolute truth -- or for there to exist truths that we can latch onto and trust? Speaking of movies, the Triage movie was intense; and the main character, Dr. Orbinski, talks with some rough language about what he's seen. One of the phrases is the profane phrase that triggers a judgment of "non-believer" whenever uttered (you know the phrase: it has the proper noun "God" in it and the verb "damn" or "damned" right after). It's not uncommon to assume this when hearing that phrase bounced around. Religion doesn't get brought up in the movie, but the phrase "the right thing" as in doing the right thing or "it's the right thing to do" does appear many times. I think that common, core belief that there are "right things" or "right" choices to make means that there are absolutes. There is a true measuring stick. There is an ultimate truth. There is a God. He is a just, right, and true God. He is trustworthy. I think this core belief, even hidden beneath the surface in the mind and hearts of some atheists and agnostics, point to an inner desire to have a God to believe in, which I think points to the very existence of God. I think this is why lies and deception bothers people.

SXSW.08.04

Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden?
I arrived at the Alamo Draft House about 15 to 20 minutes prior to the start of the movie. With my film pass, I walked past a long line of impatient, angry, and jealous movie hopefuls. I think they resented the fact that, like SXSW badges trump film festival passes, film passes trump individual tickets. For those shows that are sold out, ticket buyers can get a rain check or refund. I almost wish I would've had a shield to protect me from the hatred pierced into the back of my head as I tucked into the hallway on my way to the auditorium.

After a brief announcement that identified the director who was present for this screening, the humorous pre-screening trailer that the fest put together (depicting a variety of scenerios between a puppet and co-workers at a fast-food joint), it was time for the film. It was the first film of the fest where the audio wasn't loud enough, and the audience screamed for more volume. The opening lines were almost inaudible, but the exploding action shortly thereafter about took our heads off.

And then there wasn't much to capture your attention. The long and dull diatribe that follows after the opening scene is nothing short of an all-time yawner. I hate it when I realize I'm watching a composition called a motion picture. It hearkens back to those early experiences with home movies -- which at least have the personal connection to the "talent." This lame excuse of a movie not only calls into quesion our loyalty as an audience, but the pre-festival screening process as well. How this movie could make it into a festival screening must've been a joke ... and those that chose it, I'm convinced, where in the back two rows giggling through this arduous experience. I can't remember ever walking out of a movie. I'm too cheap to let even a dollar cinema ticket go to waste. I can't get the haunting mockery out of my head: "You'll never get these 83 minutes to your life back" ... because it's true.

There were times when I thought my patience would pay off. When the narration hinted that the film crew might have information on his whereabouts in Pakistan, it felt like redemption was just around the corner. But then a redneck's ranting about Osama cut across from a rough edit almost like nails down a chalkboard. I felt sick when leaving the theater, and I even ducked into the restroom to purge, but I almost felt like that would have given the festival some satisfaction of any emotional reaction. Even though I wasn't really being watched, I felt convinced that my best recorse would be stoicism and no reaction. Almost like standing up to an agitator trying to coax a reaction out of me.

Now, the real truth is the show was completely sold out and my festival pass ticket could not get me inside. This entire review was just an exercise in the writing of a bad review. How'd I do?


©2008 HM Magazine - All Rights Reserved

What bugs me about Mike Huckabee

The thing about Huckabee is that he looks so much like actor Gregory Itzin, who played a very yucky and sleazy president on a previous season of 24.

Didn't anyone else make this connection before?
Here's "President Charles Logan:





Here's presidential hopeful Michael Huckabee:

SXSW.08.03

Here Is What Is
This documentary film on a year in the musical life of Daniel Lanois debuted yesterday at the Alamo Draft House. The Alamo Draft House is an amazing theater experience, with deep aisles between the rows of seats, with a narrow table in front where you can eat. Menus lay scattered in front of every other seat, along with short golf-score type pencils where you write in your order, standing it up vertically in between the table and a metal band. The wait staff sees your order, comes by and takes it; delivering hot or cold food shortly thereafter. It makes for a great movie-watching experience. Every city should have a few of these around -- really. Daniel Lanois, as many of you know, is the ambient production mastermind behind such noteworthy artists as Peter Gabriel, Bob Dylan and U2.


This gem starts off with an extraordinarily long intro, a solo piano piece that focuses in on pianist Garth Hudson's fingers. This intro flows from the piano to the ensemble, featuring Daniel on pedal steel guitar. It's mostly music throughout the 93-minute movie, but there's a little bit of conversation, like the chatting between production partners Brian Eno and Daniel. Early on Daniel brings up the movie and his goals for it, hoping for input from Eno, who shares that something he'd like to see out of this movie is the process -- "how things come out of nothing." He wanted to encourage people not to be duped or intimidated into thinking that Beethoven's Fifth, for example, just existed up in his head and he wrote it all out for the symphony to play. No, the creation process comes out of nothing and progresses a little bit at a time. He used a colorful metaphor to describe the crude stages of songwriting before it evolves into something great.


Other tidbits of information shared include Lanois' own narrative about traveling down from Canada to New Orleans to find the groove. "Groove lives close to sexuality," he says. This perhaps explains the psychedelic go-go dancing that weaves in and out of the movie at times. Lanois reveals his "secret" or main philosophy to producing music. If he had to boil it down to one word, he said, it would be "Feel." He showed up close and personal (with a camera right behind him) how he approaches the mixing console in the studio. He realized that his fingers and hands were large enough to move lots of faders at once, so he began to practice a form of "performance mixing" that he described as being a contrast to the "floral arrangement" philosophy that follows the creed of "that's how the band played it, leave it alone." The scene where he does some performance mixing, complete with narration announcing each move is impressive and memorable. He introduces another pedal steel guitar scene by revealing that "the pedal steel guitar takes me to a sacred place." He calls it "my little church in a suitcase."


A montage accompanying a song about "Joy" gives a nice climax and send-off to the movie. Overall, it's a great piece of music cinematography that shares lots of insight into a creative and great artist of our time. I was amazed by how much he shared and "gave away his secrets," though it's apparent that most of his philosophy is intuitive and could be learned without the aid of this film, but I imagine there will be more than a few young musicians who see this and run with the information, taking their creativity to another level.


This was the world premiere of the film, so Lanois was there, along with directors named Adam: Vollick and Samuels (who also plays bass); and drummer extraordinaire Brian Blade. Lanois answers a question about the obtrusiveness of cameras by explaining, "that's why one guy did it," refering to Vollick, who incorporated a previous job skill installing small security cameras. "I'll gain fidelity from proximity of subjects." This philosophy allowed for one guy to film all that was going on. They also shared how they wanted to allow the camera to capture a moment in one take -- even in a world of one second edits. The effect worked like a charm, as lots of mesmerizing moments happened on film here. The "Joy" montage at the end included footage of the "electric slide" style of dancing that happens at drummer Brian Blad's father's church when people get excited. They were just jamming as the church band at a get together when this happened. I can't say enough good things about this flik. It's available as a limited edition deluxe DVD set at daniellanois.com via his newly started label -- Red Floor Records.




Triage: Dr. James Orbinski's Humanitarian Dilemma
Watching this documentary brought me right back to Uganda, whose fresh faces and countrysides are only 3 weeks' away in my memory. This guy volunteered his medical skills and services as part of the "Doctors Without Borders" group. He did extensive work in Somolia and Rwanda, where he had to deal with the real-time results of genocide. The title comes from the decisions they had to make when the hospitals were inundated with way too many patients to see at once. One group, identified by a piece of tape with a number written on their forehead, was treatable; one will survive with immediate treatment; another can wait to receive treatment; and a third won't survive even if treated, and they are left to die, basically. It's a horrible dilemma for a doctor to face. This guy's struggle to deal with what he saw in the early 90s has scarred him, and he returns with a camera to document visually the book he's writing to process this. He was aghast that a guy forming a new work at the hospital wasn't keenly aware of what had happened in those hallowed halls. He took him around and shared about being able to see the genocide on the other side of a fence surrounding a hospital and how the dogs would tear away at the victims' bodies. The high cost of helping out in a situation like that cost a few workers their lives. One of Orbinski's colleagues talked about this cost in several cut-away interviews throughout the film. One of the uneasy feelings that was evoked through this pair of eyes was the feeling of being called into action while over there. I couldn't help but think of the intimidation I felt when on the sidelines as our high school played the giant players at Tehachapi High School and its thousand-yard runner, Mark Ricker. If our defensive coordinator had yelled, "Van Pelt! Get in there," I had no choice but to run into the fray. That almost describes the fear and trepidation of going over to a place like that. Jumping in and getting involved at some point becomes a non-choice, as human compassion compells your action. Being that close and not getting your hands dirty is a strange feeling. I was also reminded of the great hope and the resiliant spirit of the African people. This one guy, named Hussein, started an orphanage in the wake of the genocide. He went to the feeding centers and picked up children that were left orphaned and he took them in. Now, some 15 years later, many of these children are bright. Hussein saw these children as the seed of Somolia's future. This was a very moving picture, for sure. I wish the filmmaker and Orbinski had been present for a Q&A after this screening. The room was respectfully silent after this one ended.




Full Battle Rattle
This was an interesting documentary at an interesting time. It's about a training facility in California's Mojave Desert, where the army simulates some Iraqui villages as a training ground before troops get deployed to Iraq. Iraqi citizens and others are employed to act in character for the 2 to 3 week training period. The film makers immersed themselves into the training, just as the soldiers did, sometimes losing themselves in the simulation. Afterwards the directors -- Jesse Moss and Tony Gerber -- were onstage for a Q&A. I figured this would be an interesting and heated discussion, as Austin is the liberal hotbed of the "red" state of Texas. Joining them on stage were three of the soldiers (including one Colonel) and two female Iraq simulators/actresses. It was revealing to understand that one of the women did not sign her clearance to be in the film until after her parents were safely out of Iraq. Once they had fled to Syria, she signed on. This was for her safety and the safety of her family. The first question was a pointed one about "embedded journalism," to which one of the directors paraphrased as, "Do you mean, did we drink the kool-aid?" He admitted, "As East Coast liberals, their goal was to paint a complex picture (of a complex issue) and leave it complex." He stated that he didn't want to simplify the issue, as he sees all too often in this country. He stood up to a crowd of many leftist people in Austin. Wow. Good for them. I was impressed. He said, "the views in the film might be the dominant ones in this country. As East Coast liberals, we might be the minority opinion in this country. We did what needs to be done -- we listened." I thought that was pretty noble of him. They showed respect for the military guys on stage with them. The other director answered another question about the tricky part of documenting in a action-style a simulation of real-life action, to which he asked the rhetorical question: "What is real? WE live in an Escher world, don't we?"




©2008 HM Magazine - All Rights Reserved

Video stilled the text-only czar

Guys like Carlos Whitaker and Shaun Groves carried little video cameras with them. They're very talented and creative individuals that understand the power of the visual and audio. While we were there, they put together many small videos like this one, which dramatically tell stories of what we were seeing and experiencing.

I love how this bloggers' tour came across. It was neat to see the creativity expressed so quickly over there.

And now for another quote from the movie Waitress:

"That's my truth, summed up for your feminine judgment."
--Cal the cook/boss

SXSW.08.02

Sitting in the lovely Paramount Theater on Congress Avenue in downtown Austin, there's a hub-bub of activity as people get seated. Ushers in red vests help people get seated, sometimes keeping someone from sitting in the "wrong" seat (one that is reserved for someone else). It reminds me a lot of the Dove Awards, where a din of people talking in almost hushed undertones provide a white noise type audio backdrop. Memories of that "high school attitude" of trying to be seen or seeing someone cool or famous float by. While it's a very insignificant event (finding a seat), it takes on an air of pre-event excitement. I don't know, it's just kind of a different atmosphere for about 15 minutes. Exciting, superficial, and a way to pass the time.


My first movie of the film festival was Crawford, which began with some gorgeous shots of the countryside. The cozy little town was changed when George W. Bush and family bought a ranch and moved in. The multiple slices of life show various reactions to the new makeup. For a time period there were multiple tourists coming in. The protests led by Cindy Sheahan grew large in number. A high school teacher reveled in the increased interest in government and politics. Like Palosi's Journeys With George documentary that showcased in this same theater a few years ago, Crawford provides a glimpse of the president and the swoth of influence and opinion that he cuts in his wake. Afterwards the director showed up for a Q&A (which is one of the priceless ingredients to these film festival screenings), along with the teacher, pastor, and other townfolk featured in the film. One of the good ole boys featured in the film (he's the horse trainer that rode a white horse into the anti-war demonstration, with painted messages like "You don't speak for me, Cindy" and "God bless the USA." He couldn't make it to the screening, but passed on his take of the movie after seeing the dvd that was sent to all the principle participants: "Ya'll did some Bush bashin, but it's pretty even."




Gonzo
This documentary of Hunter S. Thompson is a full, 2+ hours long. Like the object of the film, it was wild, funny, political, and depressing. I learned more about George McGovern than I ever knew; as well as learning about Thompson's close but failed attempt to run for Sheriff in Aspen, Colorado. His brave but crazy interaction with the Hell's Angels was well documented, as was his love for guns, drink, and drugs.




Prior to seeing the films I had a chance to take in some of the Interactive portion of the conference/festival. I watched several bloggers play kickball at a Movable Type party. I met and chatted with a guy from a wireless security system when I crashed a press party that I presumed was the Movable Type get together. Over a couple breakfast tacos I learned about the possibilities of this guy's company, uControl. I wish I could afford his services, which allow you to monitor a location remotely via the internet (or even tv screen). At the Movable Type shindig I forced myself to talk to someone I didn't know to get some information on the "Personal Publishing System" that we use at HM for this website. I now definitely plan on ugrading to the newer version of Perl and the latest version of Movable Type. One of the immediate benefits will be the elimination of some of that robot spam stuff that shows up as comments.





I popped into the Screenburn arcade in the Austin Convention Center, which was a wild and crazy room full of flat screen monitors and hot gaming devices. Along with a gazillion places to game, there were guys playing Dungeons & Dragons. It was like a giant Las Vegas casino -- only the gambling was just done with pride and bragging rights ... and it was all free. One booth (Austin Laser Art) was doing free laser engraving on iPods, notebooks, and anything else solid. There was lots of Guitar Hero shredding and Rock Band playing. It's always fun to see little kids blow these games away. Too fun.

SXSW.08.01

So, I'm about to go downtown to Austin for South By Southwest. My first planned stop is to a MT party. It's Movable Type, and they are the fine folks (or the fine system) that my website is powered/published by. I hope to get some tech points ... while I play kickball? Their party is called "KICK" and that's what they do. They serve breakfast tacos and play kickball. They also promise not to pick you last.

That should be fun. I'll then run some flyers off for the Uganda Bloggers' Tour. Anne and I thought it'd be fun to promote this innovative bloggers' tour at a place that is inundated with bloggers. I'll hang some of those up around.

Then it's away to watch and review some movies. The first one I want to see is Crawford, a documentary about the town that George W lives in and how it's changed since he moved in and been elected. It'll be at the classy Paramount Theater. I can't forget this guy I met at that theater before a SXSW screening a number of years ago. His appearance was kinda ruddy and after pleasant introductions he expressed his keen interest in movies of debauchery. He talked about a movie "that even showed beastiality" and cackled like he got royalties off the very mention of the practice or something. It was kind of creepy, bizarre, and pitiful. It was so strange, in fact, that it made me wonder if he knew what HM Magazine was and just said those things to push my buttons. I'm certain that wasn't the case, because the world doesn't revolve around me and he really didn't look at my badge. I think he asked what I did, but that was about it. No, this guy was a legit indie film whacko. That was a sxsw.strangencounter.

Gary Smith

I plan on starting another magazine one day. It's a goal I've had for awhile. I just can't seem to "find the time" to make the serious move to get it going. Meanwhile, I pay attention to writers that I really like, tearing their bylines and dropping them in a folder to resource later when I can hire writers for this publication. One such writer that has appeared on my "list" time and time again is this guy named Gary Smith. I just finished an article he wrote in the December 31, 2007 issue of Sports Illustrated. It's called "Escape From Jonestown" and it's the story of Jim Jones Jr, and his son, RobJones. Basketball was what allowed the adopted son of the infamous cult leader to be away from the commune on that fateful day back in 1978. It's what allowed him to escape the memories and guilt and the reputation and all that ... and push it away. It's an amazing story.

A conversation overheard in Uganda

When we were at the airport in Entebbe, Uganda, waiting for our flight to Brussells, Belgium, we were sitting down after going through the gate check. One of the Compassion staff, Tom Emmons, was sought out by another Compassion worker that happened to be in the same city at the same time. She introduced herself and they had a nice conversation about what they had been up to. Tom was sitting in a row of chairs facing and across from me, and this woman (I think her name was Amy) was sitting to my left. I couldn't help but hear every word and occasionally be a participant in the conversation. She told us about her times in a run down and somewhat infamous hospital in Kampala.

It's called Mulago and it's apparently not as nice as the open air (?!) hospital my wife visited (International Hospital Kampala) when she accompanied our photographer to another hospital. So, anyway, Amy worked there for a couple years and she discovered early on that Malaria was killing tons of people. She described mothers carrying their dying children in their arms, down a long hallway to an emergency room or something, and the children would die before they arrived. She said she would come in during the morning and see a pile of dead bodies in the hallway -- stacked 4 or 5 feet high -- of all the children that had died over the night and earlier that morning. They would be discarded later that day.

Can you imagine that? Nurses are tough, but I can't fathom dealing with something like that. If I was Amy and had experienced that, I would probably have to tell that story over and over again, too (just for the therapeutic value of getting it "out of my head" or something). Oh my.

Dear Mr. Jerry Jones

Note the news that flashed across my email inbox this morning:

Eagles: Eagles release Takeo Spikes
The Philadelphia Eagles have announced that they have released veteran linebacker Takeo Spikes, according to philadelphiaeagles.com. A 10-year NFL veteran, Spikes spent the 2007 season with the Eagles and finished second on the team with 139 tackles and also had one sack in 14 games. Spikes missed the final two games of the season with a torn rotator cuff.

The report didn't speculate on the starting linebacker corps, but one likely scenario has Stewart Bradley moving into the middle, meaning Omar Gaither would slide into the weak side role vacated by Spikes.

Please, Mister Jones, pick this guy up. He's a hitter. And, even though it's insane, go ahead and sign Pacman Jones. Write a clause in his contract that forces him to attend TD Jakes' church in Dallas. Have guest evangelists visit the workout rooms all Spring, Summer and Fall. Get him straightened out and let him intercept lots of NFC East opposing quarterbacks. And, one more thing: don't you dare trade Marion Barber.

Thank you. Let's win the Super Bowl next year.

Are you hungry?

Are you aware? Are you listening?

Okay, on the way to work this morning I had an older compilation disc of hard music playing on "mix mode." When the song "Southpaw" by Precious Death came on, I remembered the flood of excitement that came when that band hit the scene. With the tightness and slight funk edge of a Living Colour, the vocal dexterity of a woman named Cher, and the "gunk, gunk, gunk" heaviness of a Metallica, this band welded a progressive mix of melody and power. In my outspoken opinion, they are easily one of Christian hard music's highlights.

I thought of some of my other Christian rock and roll friends and sadly assumed that some of them might not share my opinion. They might've missed this coming of greatness. "Why?! Why did they miss this album, Doug?"

I'm so glad you asked. Sometimes a groundbreaking band comes along and we notice it because we are ready. We are bored. We are hungry. We want something new, something fresh, something powerful. If we are fat and gorged on the good music around us, we might miss the special new thing. It's good to appreciate what's out there, and, in that sense, I guess it's not a cultural sin to be fat. I'm speaking metaphorically, of course, about being dulled and a bit numb to what's new. Some artists just seem to come along at the right time. Certain art is created in a void. When a band called Creed was touring around with the tagline of being the "world's biggest rock band," along came U2 with a comeback album (All That You Can't Leave Behind) and a tour (Elevation) that took back the throne. The story of four or five bands from the same city (all of which point to Mother Love Bone and a couple others as predecessors) redefining hard music in the 90s has been told way too often, but the point is that the musical climate was stagnant. It demanded a change.

Another reason for my friend's missing Precious Death is similarly related. Besides being distracted with something else (the 77s album Sticks And Stones was overlooked and overshadowed by its own record company because another album was orbiting the planet in a higher arc at the time -- The Joshua Tree). Having a favorite album that occupies a lot of our time can by proxy keep us from hearing that new thing. The great thing about this mistake, though, is that we can "catch up" and exercise our ears with listening to new music.

I hope I find something new and exciting at SXSW this year.

By the way, in the random acts of useless bits of information category, here are some announcements:

-Goodness, of the feline trilogy known as Surely, Goodness, and Mercy, has disappeared. If you count Samson and Delilah that makes 5 cats that've come and gone from the HM Ranch. Were they eaten by coyotes? Carried off (and then eaten) by an owl? Catnapped by a drive-by human? Run over by a speeding pickup? Who knows. Here's hoping we can get some more residents of the whisker variety soon.

-The cows and horse + donkey are back. My neighbors have stopped trying to protect the seeds of hay they planted a couple months ago in front of their gates, and they've let the animals roam on both our properties again. Douglass, our donkey, is certainly smitten with their Shetland Pony. I should give this lass a name, huh? It's fun to look out the window and see big animals grazing or running around. It's not hippos, baboons, or water buffalo, but it's cool.

-One of our neighbors horses, I recently found out, met its end in our small "broken" pond. Apparently a month or two ago it was back in the water and it got stuck in the mud and died. Not sure if it was starvation or drowning. That was not a fun piece of information to discover. Every once in a while I walk back there, and, when the weather is more inviting, I'm riding a bike or jogging by every day. I'm kind of glad I didn't discover the dead horse on my own. It would have been great had I been able to see it and rescue it before it expired, but who knows when that was.

-After our presentation last night at church (which was really a sit down on the couch type interview, skillfully handled by our pastor) a child was sponsored. Several people came by and looked at our computers and got information to sponsor later, but one couple signed up and got the ball rolling. I know there's a family in Uganda that is having some major needs being met now.

I miss my bloggers

I'm here at our home church tonight (Calvary Chapel, Austin) and we're sharing about our trip to Uganda. We have three large video screens over the top of the stage, as well as larger ones on each side. They've got images from our trip displayed on the screens. I'm moved by how much I miss the 15 bloggers. They're really sweet people and I'm better for knowing them. Shannon, Sophie, Anne, Keely, Chris, Charlotta (she needs a blog), Heather, Randy, Carlos, Brian, Tom, Shaun, Spence, Phil, and David. There's another person that was part of our trip there every day. He was our "road manager" type person for this Blogger's Tour. His name was Dennis and he started a blog while we were there. I wish they could've been here tonight to share. I can't wait to see them again. I hope it's soon.

This trip was amazing and it's cool that its effects are longer reaching than, say, the typical vacation or business trip. The last time I heard, there was over 380 children sponsored as a direct result from this trip (people like you, who have read our blogs).

We're singing our last worship song now, after an extended time of communion. People will come out here in the lobby, where I'm posting. We brought a few of our laptops with us to offer a chance at sponsorship if anyone wants to do that tonight. We also have a slideshow of Uganda photos as our screensavers.

I (heart) Mom

Happy (belated) Birthday greetings to my mom, who turned ?? yesterday. Parents are a wonderful thing. The bond that is formed between parent and child is pretty incredible. I am thankful that I was the only son in our family. I can't ever remember wishing for a brother. I found ways to have fun alone growing up when there weren't friends around -- like kicking a soccer ball against a wall. That kinda stuff is pretty good at increasing reaction skills. I played many a championship football game -- complete with in-head play-by-play announcing -- in the back yard. Bird feeders, trees, and that crossbar target as completed passes. What must've looked the funniest would have been any scrambles or runs I would have made with imaginary tacklers. Hopefully, no one ever saw me. Perhaps my mom did through a window.

The bond between mother and son is warm. My mom has been great at comfort, support, love and even conversation. I'll probably always remember a time in a remote bus station where I was hungry and fussing for some breakfast. She ordered me up some cinnamon toast that, while not exactly made the way she did it, came with perfect timing. One time she tricked me for a birthday surprise. This was after I'd started Heaven's Metal Magazine back in the day. It wasn't my first adult birthday spent away from home, but it became a special one. She had supposedly equipped a neighbor who was coming to Austin with a birthday cake, and I was asked to pick it up. This was way before 9/11 and I was allowed to wait at the gate. Instead of our neighbor out walks my mom. That was a fun visit. Another time I had a girlfriend come by the house to meet her (for the first time, I believe) and a UPS note was posted on the door for the second day in a row. I had ordered some great new Kryptonics (blue) skateboard wheels (double conical ones, bud) and she had been away from the house upon the previous delivery attempt. I had asked her if she was going to be around the next day to get the package. She had told me she would, but there was the "failed delivery attempt" note posted on the front door again. Before I even introduced my girlfriend to her, I think, I protested in childish disappointment. When I walked into my room, there was the package sitting on my bed. She was messing with me! My girlfriend got a kick out of that.

When I was in Uganda, I noticed that they really didn't throw around the words "mother" and "father" very much. They used the label "caregiver." I think this is partly due to political correctness, but primarily due to the endemic of AIDS deaths that have left so many children orphans. That's a painful reality. I remember asking questions at one mother's home that we visited. I was trying to learn more about her and her home life, so I asked questions about "what kind of games do you play with your children?" and "What kind of stories do you tell them?" The Compassion workers, who would need to translate my questions, also offered that many parents here don't interact with their children like we see in the West. There's not bedtime fairy tales, for instance. One worker lamented that this is something they'd like to see change in Uganda. They were hopeful that it was changing. At another house we visited, with cute little Doreen, we saw a tiny baby that was really well developed. My wife, who is a nurse that specialized in children, noted that this little girl was holding her head and neck up right, was bright, very attentive. She would have scored high in the baby categories that doctors and nurses measure for normal growth, etc.

For a surprise gift for my mom yesterday, I donated $30 to Compassion International, who have a Malaria Intervention Fund that offers access to medical treatment for those struggling with the disease (Uganda's number 1 killer), prevention education and 3 mosquito nets for their sleeping quarters. It's not a set of great skateboard wheels, but it'll provide life-saving protection and help. I'm glad they have practical things like that available.

I voted

I am so stinkin' tired. It's 11:18 and I've yet to really feel alive yet. I rose early to go get in line down at City Hall so I could vote shortly after the polling started at 7am. There wasn't much of a line in front of me, which was great. I had to get out of there and home by 7:15 to take my kids to school. I'm glad I was able to pull that off. I wondered if it would be possible, thinking that maybe the lines would've been too long to wait for. That thought mad me kind of irritable. It also made me kind of ashamed at how my being inconvenienced might influence whether I voted or not. The Texas Primaries have turned out to be a pivotal part of this year's presidential election. It's kind of neat to be involved in something so historical. I work a good 25 miles from the polling place. If I couldn't vote in this small window, it would have required a special trip in the middle of the day. I would not have enjoyed that. That's pretty shallow of me, I think. It's cool to be able to vote in this democratic republic that we live in here in the USA. I think of other countries, like Kenya and other places, where elections are disputed and social unrest erupts in a violent and ugly way. I wonder how strong our country is. I wonder how fragile our society and communities are. Will something like the "Rodney King riots" happen again here? How safe are we in middle class America? I saw a press release about an indie movie that's screening next week at sxsw here in Austin. It's a documentary about the fragile nature of society in Brazil, where the "middle class" has eroded and there now exists a chasm between the elite and the poor. I wonder if that's a true picture of Brazil?

On another note, when I left for the polling place this morning, my wife took a look at what I was wearing and said, "Don't tell anyone you're married to me -- looking like that!" Even my kids joined in, saying I looked ridiculous in my San Diego Chargers football jersey and my high school letterman's jacket on over it. I have some fun looking ridiculous just for the heck of it sometimes. I did meet one of my neighbors, who reached his hand over my voting booth walls to shake hands.

And one little off-the-subject gripe. I read a couple of articles recently that talked about the possibility of the Dallas Cowboys trading Marion Barber to the Dolphins to get the 1st pick in the draft, so they can pick up running back Darren McFadden from Arkansas. If Jerry Jones lets Barber go, he is not a smart man. This guy runs like he's been given the football and won't have another chance at it again -- every time he touches the ball! This guy is amazing. I would groan if Jones and company let this guy go. I hope he doesn't fancy himself a Jimmy Johnson, who let All Pro Hershell Walker go the to Vikings in exchange for about a dozen players (via picks and the trade). That was letting your one good player go for a collection of players to help rebuild the team. The Cowboys are currently an elite team and don't need to give up one of their best players in exchange for one guy. I appreciate the courage to think that "dangerously," but Barber is too much of a great player to let go like that -- even if McFadden was a proven winner (which he is not). So, I vote for keeping Barber.

Uganda Sings On Like A Cousin Relative

One of our beloved blogging tour bloggers, David Kuo, sent this link over today. It's a video of a just-finished, previously-unfinished U2 song from the Joshua Tree sessions. This is awesome. And it's cool to see a rock star share the songwriting process in this intimate way.

It's funny how much connection there is to Uganda. I remember a dvd these guys sent me about a little ministry they were spearheading called Invisible Children. I checked it out, was moved, and reported on it in the magazine (and here in this blog). I kind of left it alone, feeling like I'd done my part; as the ministry/organization took off. Now it's the non-profit charity getting a percentage of proceeds from Thrice's latest 4-EP album package. I had no idea that that was taking place in Uganda. For some reason I connected it elsewhere. Shows you how little I pay attention sometimes.

Oh my gosh, I can't believe I didn't remember the where and the what from this story! It would have made my trip even more intense. Wow. It might've made me more scared. It might've made me want to get more involved and take a trip to the Northern part of the country where little kids are being recruited into a war.

Cinematic Love

The following is a short scene of one of the quickest and funniest love scenes in the last year. It involves Okie, who was the replacement 5-minute date that a waitress named Dawn met. She hated the five-minute experience and "made the mistake" of telling him where she worked. He shows up the next day with a bundle of flowers and a beaming smile that refuses to go away. Here's the dialog:

Dawn,
Can I bring you joy
like you bring me sunshine?
Can I hold you a minute
and it turns into forever?

Do you like that one?

No!!

Okay, how about a spontaneous tidbit that rhymes?

All my life I've met harlots,
but you are a queen
da, da, da, da, da, da, da...
something between

I've gotta work on that one.

Leave me alone.

I can't leave you alone,
because I'm in love with you, Dawn.
You're going to be my wife.

Listen to me.
You make me sick!
I think you're nothing but a crazy little freak
and I wish you would go away and die!

(sobbing)

Oh, I'm sorry hon.

They become pretty much inseperable after that. It's one of many funny scenes in this movie. The plot revolves around an adulterous affair, so it's likely to turn off some, but it's quite charming and funny.