Showing posts sorted by date for query Music. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query Music. Sort by relevance Show all posts
"Solo," by Kwame Alexander
Incredible book.

“Solo” is a young adult coming-of-age novel about the son of an alcoholic rockstar.

It’s told in a cohesive series of poems that range from conversations to solitary reflections to stirring dramatic scenes, with each strung after the other like the notes of a chord in a beautiful song.

Prescribed for anyone who feels the music deep inside and uses it as a guide to unravel the tangles of the soul.


It's no secret I've been going through a hard time lately. I've blogged about anxiety, depression and mood disorder symptoms, and I've taken blogging breaks here and there to replenish my reserves.

What exactly was I doing during those breaks?

Well, as I mentioned in a July 15 post, one of the main things I was doing was listening to music. Not just any music, but specific types that I knew would do my brain good. I named four of them in the July 15 blog post.

Here are three more:

1. Classical music. On my Pandora station, I've been listening to Johann Sebastian Bach, Ludwig van Beethoven, Sergey Rachmaninov and Claude Debussy. In my car, I listen to Johannes Brahms and a mix of Romantic period composers from a CD I got as a graduation gift from a family friend a long time ago.

Here's my favorite Bach piece:



2. Bards. Singer-songwriters or bands with lyrics that grab hold of my brain and shake all the lies out. That's what good songwriters do. I'm thinking of Bob Dylan, Warren Zevon, Brandi Carlile, The Avett Brothers, Mumford & Sons and Ryan Montbleau.

Here's a Ryan Montbleau song, for those of you who haven't heard his songwriting:



3. Soundtracks. I kid you not, one of the best ways to rise up from a low point is through singing or humming along with Disney soundtracks or other animated film songs. Fantasia is basically all classical music. The Aladdin soundtrack is compulsively singable. And my favorite ... of all time .. is the Anastasia soundtrack, with hits like "Once Upon a December," "Learn to Do It," and "In the Dark of the Night."

Here's the album's first track, "A Rumor in St. Petersburg":



Read more of my blog posts about music here.


Ever heard of jazz singer Madeleine Peyroux? Imagine a modern-day Billie Holiday, except French-American, and you've got a handle on what her voice and music sound like.

I was listening to a Spotify playlist called "Evening Unwind" a few weeks back, and her cover of Leonard Cohen's "Blue Alert" came on. I had never heard her voice, but I was instantly entranced. I was bewitched in a similar way by Rachael Yamagata in 2007, when I stumbled across her cover of Joni Mitchell's "River" on one of my Pandora stations.

After I finally had time to research Peyroux, I realized instantly why her music captivates me. The influences she cites include Bessie Smith, Johnny Mercer, Billie Holiday (no surprise there), Patsy Cline, Bob Dylan and Edith Piaf. Some of the great singers and singer-songwriters.

The song I'd like to share today is Peyroux's cover of "Summer Wind," by Johnny Mercer and Heinz Meier. It feels fresh and fragrant, just like a summer wind should be.


    "The Summer Wind" 

    By Leonard Cohen
    Performed by Madeleine Peyroux

    The summer wind
    Came blowing in
    From across the sea
    It lingered there
    So warm and fair
    To walk with me
    All summer long
    We sang a song
    And strolled on golden sand
    Two sweethearts
    And the summer wind
    Like painted kites
    Those days and nights
    Went flyin by
    The world was new
    Beneath a blue
    Umbrella sky
    Then softer than
    A piper man
    One day it called to you
    And I lost you
    To the summer wind
    The autumn wind
    And the winter wind
    Have come and gone
    And still the days
    Those lonely days
    Go on and on
    And guess who sighs her lullabies
    Through nights that never end
    My fickle friend
    The summer wind
    The summer wind

I hope her performance of the song is as enchanting for you as it was for me.

Read more of my blog posts about music here.
I colored this drawing recently.

For me, music has always been a superhighway of emotion and beauty. It also has been one of my primary coping skills for tough times. 

I recently read an article by a moods expert who said it's best to listen to "mood-incongruent music" — music that conveys emotions opposite from your own — when you are trying to cope.

I see wisdom in that. There's a bit of mood-incongruent music on my list below. 

Overall, though, I try to notice my senses and pay attention to what soothes and irritates them. 

Maybe sad music is what you need when you're sad, to help you know you're not alone. Or, maybe you've been stuffing your anger, and now you need a productive outlet. Angry music could help.

I don't typically listen to metal or hard rock music when I'm feeling down or anxious, because the dissonance and high-pitched electronic tones grate against my eardrums and aggravate my irritability. But maybe your eardrums like those sounds. If so, mindfully harness that liking to help you process your emotions.

Without further ado, here are the four main types of music that help me through tough times:

1. Hymns and sacred songs 

I was cleaning out my car — another coping skill — and I found a Fernando Ortega CD I thought I'd lost forever: "The Shadow of Your Wings: Hymns and Sacred Songs" (2006).

Here's one of my favorites from that album:




It's so simple and beautiful. It's the prayer I imagine God praying over me when I'm feeling anxious. 

2. Brandi Carlile

I've blogged about her music for years. For you longtime readers, it will come as no surprise that she makes one of my lists again.

Here's a Brandi Carlile song that helps me cry when I need to: "Downpour":




3. Johnny Cash

While I don't own any of his music, (I know! Get me some!) I love the darker stuff he wrote later in life, as well as the hymn-like songs and the fun-loving tunes.

Here's "Folsom Prison Blues," which I classify as a happy tune, even though it's about prison:




4. Edith Piaf

Sometimes, when my brain feels like scrambled eggs, but I still need to function/work/do chores, it's good to listen to music that has no lyrics — or lyrics I don't fully understand, because they're in a foreign language.

For this, I turn to Edith Piaf, 1915-1963, who was a French cabaret singer. Her strong, dominant vocals overshadow my moods. Her bold, march-style music helps me focus and gives me a boost of mental energy when I need it.

Here's Edith Piaf's "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien":




Your turn. What are some songs you'd put on your list of coping tunes?

Read more of my blog posts about music here.
Brandi Carlile

On a sunny and gorgeous Friday afternoon a couple weeks ago, I regained an appreciation for Brandi Carlile's song "Caroline."

Why? Because I spent a couple hours at a park with my precious 7-month-old niece, Emmy. Carlile wrote the song about her niece, Caroline, and recorded it with the legendary Elton John, whose fingers skip happily over the keys and infuse the song with life and joy. 

I love the song even more now that I'm an aunt, an experience I hadn't yet had when it was released on Carlile's 2009 album "Give Up the Ghost."

Now, six years later, I have three nieces and a nephew on my Watson side of the family, and four nieces and three nephews on my husband's side of the family. And I have a new appreciation for lines like this gem: "But I've seen things so beautiful / All around this broken world / That pale in comparison to you."

Nieces and nephews are a blessing from God. I pray that all of you readers will someday get to experience the joy of watching wee loved ones grow up.

In the meantime, here's the song:


"Caroline," by Brandi Carlile

I woke up long after dawn
20 years had come and gone
I know when it changed for me
A day in June you came to me
I've seen through someone else's eyes
With nothin' on the other side
Every motel, every town
Pieces scattered all around

Promises that I can't be
Someone's heart that I can't keep
Days so long I couldn't speak
Roads so rocky I can't sleep
But I've seen things so beautiful
All around this broken world
That pale in comparison to you

Caroline I'm on my way back home to you
Can't imagine what I'm goin' through
without you by my side
It's been a long long time
Oh won't you say a prayer for me
I hope you will remember me
You're always on my mind

I have seen the canyon lands
Crooked lines like in your hands
You'd swear the earth was split in two
I wouldn't lie I promise you
That I have seen it, you will too
You could not believe if not for
photographs I took for you, Caroline
They've built towers to the sky
It hurts sometimes to watch them try
They run themselves into the ground
But I know you will love them
and their city lights and city sounds
There's beauty in the struggle
Anytime I feel it get me down
I see you smiling

Caroline, I'm on my way back home to you
Can't imagine what I'm goin' through
Without you by my side
It's been a long long time
Oh won't you say a prayer for me
I hope you will remember me
You're always on my mind
My Caroline

Now I have seen things in the sky
Stars and lights and birds and I
I've been rocky mountain high
And told them all about you
Because you are still the only thing
That constantly amazes me
I love the road and I've been blessed
But I love you best

Caroline, I'm on my way back home to you
Can't imagine what I'm goin' through
Without you by my side
It's been a long long time
Oh won't you say a prayer for me
I hope you will remember me
You're always on my mind
You were always on my mind
My Caroline

It's been my pleasure to track the musical evolution of one of my old college pals, singer-songwriter and piano rock artist Zach Vinson.

Vinson's third solo album, "How We Spend Our Days" officially releases today. And it's good.

I've been absorbing its sounds and letting them rattle around inside my head for a few weeks now.

The six-song album is full of wisdom and poetry about love, life, family and Vinson's Wisconsin roots. The melodies compel me to dance fast and slow, to upbeat, piano-driven "You're the One," to the gentle, acoustic guitar strains of "A Simple Verse," to the contemplative, yet joyful rock 'n' roll of "Home."

I have to admit I wasn't prepared for the heavier electric and bass guitar rock elements on the track 4, "Something About the Way," as Vinson's first two albums leaned more to the pop side of the pop/rock spectrum. But the good news is, Vinson has the musical ability to flow from one set of sounds to another with skill and ease.

My favorite song on the album is "A Simple Verse." It's the essence of marital affection. Words fail. Just listen and appreciate its simple beauty.



"A Simple Verse"

I wanted to write a simple verse,
Something not feeling too rehearsed,
To remind you that in good times and in worse,
I am not leaving.

Cause this year's been different than before.
The row's we've dug run far beneath the floor,
And most days I'm the one who's keeping score
And I am not winning.

Is there a way to know everything?
Each bit of your pain,
Each memory you've seen?
Is there a way two can be one
and the same?

I wanted to write a simple song,
A melody in your head while I'm gone,
To hold to when you just cannot hold on.
I'm gone, but I'm not leaving.

Cause you and I are different than before
And your wrinkled smile lines hint at something more,
Something gleaming, something leaping at the core
Hiding inside you.

Is there is a way to know everything?
Each bit of your pain, each memory you see?
Is there a way two can be one
and the same?

I wanted to write a simple verse,
Something not feeling too rehearsed,
To remind you that in good times and in worse,
I am not leaving.

Zach Vinson's music

If you like the song I shared, you can buy Zach Vinson's third album, "How We Spend Our Days," as well as his two previous albums, "The Streets Will Turn to Streams" and "Cracked Open," at his website. To get updates about Vinson's shows and future album releases. "Like" his Facebook page and follow him on Twitter.

Read more of my blog posts about music here.
Before I go to bed each night, I make the next day’s to-do list. It’s usually a laughably ambitious one, like “write three blog posts + a poem + do research + catch up on reading everything in my newsfeed + clean the whole house + go to the laundromat + see the doctor + grocery shop + read a book."

The to-do list is an essential exercise nonetheless. It’s how I stay on top of my full-time writing job.

What often happens the next morning, though? I procrastinate. And la dee da, it’s 10 a.m., and I haven't started writing yet.



My most productive writing hours are in the morning, when my brain is fresh. (I also can write in the late evening, but that’s a post for another day.)

BUT, sometimes little ol’ perfectionist me gets scared by the more daunting tasks in my writing life: prewriting or writing my work-in-progress. Research. Ripping up the shitty first draft and diving into draft two. Writing good blog posts. Writing pitches and proposals for new projects.

It’s all quite terrifying. What if I mess up? So I procrastinate. Like so:

1. I putz around in my kitchen, washing counters, planning meals or dumping out the coffee grounds and starting a new cuppa joe. Hum dee dum, this is fun.

2. I ignore the priority list and start doing little tasks at the bottom of the list. Promote or re-promote my latest blog post? Yeah, that’s easy! Of course I'll do that first.

3. I get sidetracked with paying bills. Yikes, the license plate tabs need renewing! Yikes, my doctor bill is almost due! I HAVE TO PAY BILLS NOW! Even though I don’t.

4. I start tidying up the living room. This book stack should be organized better. My hubs folded the couch blanket the wrong way after we watched a show last night; let me fix that. I know. Like I said. Perfectionist.

5. I listen to that shiny new folk-rock album I ordered last week. What? This is research for my next music review blog post, riiiiiiight? Yes, but it doesn't have to be done right now.

Share your thoughts

Do any of you fellow creative types struggle with procrastination? If so, I'd love to hear your funny stories or tips for getting back on track. 

I'll share my own tips in a follow-up blog post next Friday.

Because redirection is essential if we're going to write the next Great American Novel. ;)

No, I'm not about to tell you a silly joke. I stole today's blog title from the opening anecdote of the Memorial Weekend sermon at my church, Ada Bible. It was called "Your God Response."

Listen to the sermon here.

 Here's a recap: Guest speaker Marcus Bieschke shared about the musicality and beauty of Psalm 19, one of my favorite Psalms ever. According to C.S. Lewis, it's "the greatest poem in the Psalter and one of the greatest lyrics in the world."

Bieschke is lead teaching pastor at the Crystal Lake campus of Willow Creek Church in Illinois. He is a music lover, just like me, and asked us in the sermon's opening minutes to turn to our neighbor and tell him or her our favorite song. I dislike that game because I have too many favorites, so it was awesome when he admitted he himself has about 83 favorite songs and can't narrow it down.



For his talk at Ada, Bieschke selected three of the Top 500 Songs of All Time, as compiled by Rolling Stone Magazine in 2011. And he held those songs, full of pain, despair and hopelessness, up to the light of Psalm 19, written by King David thousands of years ago.

Here are the songs he chose to compare against Psalm 19. I'm embedding videos in case you haven't listened to the songs before.

No. 3 from the Rolling Stone list: "Imagine," by John Lennon:



Bieschke said he imagines King David sitting down with each songwriter, one by one, and having a conversation about the merits and philosophies behind each work of musical genius.

To Lennon, he imagines King David would have said something like, "This is beautiful. Your longing for a world free of pain and united by peace is a truly worthy aspiration. But let's start with a new premise. God is not the cause of our pain. Sin is. Eliminating Him from the equation won't fix our world. God sees the pain that we humans caused, and it breaks His heart. In fact, he promises that in heaven, he will wipe away our tears, and there will be no more sorrow and pain." (Isaiah 25:8, Revelation 21:4)

I love that. It reminds me of the deep heartbreak I felt when I attended the funeral of a dearly loved mentor three summers ago, and a colleague of his sang "Imagine." It frustrated me to hear that message at a funeral. The lyrics are wistful and beautiful, but they offer no hope to grieving hearts.

No. 9 from the list: "Smells Like Teen Spirit," by Kurt Cobain:



Bieschke imagines King David answering the despair and hopelessness of Cobain's anthem, "Here we are now, entertain us // I feel stupid and contagious // Here we are now, entertain us," with a dose of the soul-reviving power of Scripture found in Psalm 19. 

Bieschke believes King David would emphasize the "special revelation" aspects of the Word of God in his chat with Cobain. The Word is perfect, trustworthy, right, radiant, pure, firm, righteous, precious and sweet, as listed in verses 7-11. And it has powerful effects on the human heart: refreshing, making wise, giving joy, giving light, offering great reward, etc. That doesn't sound hopeless to me!

No. 2 from the list: "Satisfaction," by Mick Jagger:



"I can't get no satisfaction," Mick Jagger wails, "I've tried, and I've tried, and I've tried, and I've TRIIIIIIIIIED!" 

Well, King David might ask Jagger, "What if life isn't about pleasing ourselves? What if we're here for a bigger purpose?"

What if we woke up each morning to ask, "What can I do for YOU today, God?"

As King David's Psalm ends, we're whacked in the face with truth, AGAIN:

"May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer." (Psalm 19:14)

I hope, having read this post, you'll "ponder anew what the Almighty can do," as the old hymn "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty" so boldly beseeches.

Read more of my blog posts about music here and faith here.
Amos Lee
I recently came across "The Music Is You: A Tribute to John Denver," a lovely collection of cover songs by various blues, country, folk, pop, rock and soul musicians.

Amos Lee's cover of "Some Days Are Diamonds" is one of my favorite numbers on the album. The song was written and recorded in 1976 by country singer Dick Feller. But it didn't hit the Billboard charts until John Denver recorded and released it as a single in May 1981.

In his 2013 cover, Lee enfolds Feller's pensive lyrics with his soulful, bluesy voice and gentle acoustic guitar picking. He plays with the tempo and melody, transforming the song from the rollicking version Denver recorded to a more contemplative, emotionally poignant tune.

There are plenty of things to like about Feller's original piano, guitar and strings version, and about Denver's bouncy cover, but Lee's rendition stirs my guts. 

See what I mean below:



"Some Days Are Diamonds"

Lyrics and music by Dick Feller, cover arrangement by Amos Lee

When You asked how I've been here without you
I'd like to say I've been fine and I do. 
But we both know the truth is hard to come by
And if I told the truth, that's not quite true 

Some days are diamonds some days are stones 
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone 
Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones 
Some days are diamonds some days are stones. 

Now the face that I see in my mirror
More and more is a stranger to me 
More and more I can see there's a danger 
In becoming what I never thought I'd be 

Some days are diamonds some days are stones 
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone 
Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones 
Some days are diamonds some days are stones. 

Some days are diamonds some days are stones 
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone 
Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones 
Some days are diamonds some days are stones.
This seems to be mostly a song about loneliness, about being separated from your love. But it calls to me for other reasons. I think of it as a good anthem for anyone who deals with mood swings, whether at a normal level or in a heightened way because of a mood disorder/brain chemistry issue. Like me, a person who deals with depression and anxiety.

I am thankful today is a diamond for me. My heart goes out to those for whom today is a stone. Some of you are stuck in a hard time, a cold wind is blowing, and there's a chill in your bones. May you know you are not alone. May God bring you peace and comfort as you walk through the valley of the shadow.

Learn more about "The Music Is You"

 If you liked what you heard, be assured this John Denver tribute album is chock full of plenty more goodness. Browse the track listings on Amazon, buy the album on iTunes or find it at your local book and music store.

Read more of my blog posts about music.



The Avett Brothers' 2007 album, "Emotionalism," was made for people who experience anxiety.

Well, I haven't asked the band for comment, but I'm pretty sure I can read their minds in this case. ;)

Here's why I care: I also struggle with anxiety, in addition to my battle with depression that I discussed Sunday. I just received an anxiety disorder diagnosis this morning, and the doctor put me on short-term and long-term medications for it. I also plan to explore it more at my next therapy session.

This isn't really a surprise. I have always known I tend to be a worrier. I feel anxious in crowds. My skin breaks out in hives when I have to speak in front of a large group — I'm so thankful for turtleneck shirts! — and I sometimes have panic attacks when I feel overwhelmed.

Like this morning, for instance. I contacted my therapist and a good friend who also experiences anxiety, and they both recommended I see my doctor and get a prescription.

If you can relate to any of the above, and if you also happen to like folksy/bluegrass/rock music, I strongly recommend you listen to The Avett Brothers' "Emotionalism" album.

Maybe don't listen to it right in the middle of a panic attack. For that situation, I recommend hymns. Or total silence. But once you are feeling stabilized, listened to "Emotionalism."

It seems almost every song on the record extends honesty and compassion toward folks who struggle with anxiety.

One song rises to the top: "Paranoia in B♭ Major." With a humorous, swinging tempo and witty lyrics, it perfectly captures my own experience with anxiety: The stress dreams, the worry about what other people are thinking of me, the sometimes debilitating tunnel vision that threatens to beat me up.

(Don't worry, anxious readers! It hasn't beat me to this day. :)

Have a listen, scan the lyrics below, and, please, feel blessed that someone gets you:



 "Paranoia in B♭ Major," by The Avett Brothers

I keep tellin' myself that it'll be fine
You can't make everybody happy all of the time
I found myself in a place that I never been
A place that I thought that I would never be
There's people looking back at me

I keep having this dream; I'm at a party
There's people throwing drinks and screaming telling me that I don't belong
Lately life's been the same I find this comfortable place
With all my friends then my friends start telling me that I've always been wrong
And I'm so tired of being wrong

There was a time I could move there was a time I could breathe
The crowded spaces filled with angry faces
It didn't once cross my mind
With paranoia on my heels; Will you love me still
when we awake and you find that the sanity has gone from my eyes?

I got secrets from you, you got secrets from me
Because you're so worried about what I'm gonna think,
Baby I'm worried, too
But if love is a game, girl, then you're gonna win
I'll spend the rest of my life bringing victory in
If you want me to


I am so happy I discovered this song just recently. Everything about it — from the lead vocalist's irritable tone, to the melody that steps downward each bar, then spins back up unexpectedly, to the falsetto "la la la" antics at the song's end — speaks to the inner life of a person with anxiety.

How is it that songwriters and performers can breathe such honesty and fun into such a dark topic? I don't know; I'm not a songwriter. But I know good art when I see it. And this is good art.

Connect with The Avett Brothers

If you'd like to learn more about the band, peruse their tour schedule or buy their albums, visit their website, "Like" their Facebook page or follow them on Twitter. 

Does this music speak to you?

 If you liked this song, I'd love to hear from you. You don't have to spill your guts if you don't feel comfortable doing that. I'd be happy with a "hey, I liked this song" or "no, I didn't really get it." Either is cool, or invent a variation. But don't let paranoia — in B♭ Major — hold you back. ;)

Read more of my blog posts about music.


I discovered a delightful singer-songwriter prodigy on Spotify the other day. You might have heard his ad that plays on stations similar to his. If not, I'd like to share him with you.

His name is Jacob Whitesides; he's a young Tennessean. He's got a voice like John Legend meets Jack Johnson meets a less-annoying version of John Mayer.

When I called him a prodigy above, I was serious.

Whitesides taught himself how to sing and play guitar at the age of 13 — quite early in the context of modern lifespans. Prodigies in Mozart's day blossomed at 4 and lived to be 40, if they were lucky. (Mozart wasn't lucky.)

Four years after picking up that first guitar, Whitesides has kept going. And going. He has 1.58 million Twitter followers, multiple other high-traffic social media channels, and an EP. He still doesn't have a record deal, but, NBD, he created his own label, JW Records.

It seems like he doesn't need the traditional methods, if you ask me.

Here's one of the six songs on his EP. It's about youthful yearnings to communicate your love in a way that will be understood and received.



"Words," by Jacob Whitesides, age 17

I wanna tell you you're beautiful,
In a way that you have not heard before,
But I don't think it's gonna work,
Cause I'm not good with words.

I wanna tell you you're the reason why,
The earth spins and the stars hang in the sky,
But I don't think it's gonna fly,
Cause I'm not good with words.

If only I could find a way,
To say it like them poets say,
Sing a sweet and simple serenade,
Directly to your heart.

If only I could speak aloud,
Just what I feel when you're around,
I'd finally confess my love in verse,
But I'm not good with words.

If I was just like Shakespeare,
Whispering sweet sonnets in your ear,
I'd tell you everything you want to hear,
But I'm not good with words.

If only I could find a way,
To say it like them poets say,
Sing a sweet and simple serenade,
Directly to your heart.

If only I could speak aloud,
Just what I feel when you're around,
I'd finally confess my love in verse,
But I'm not good with words.

Sentences or conversation,
Oh words they only bring me complication,
And when it comes to love,
I'm useless just full of bad excuses,
And confessions gone unheard.

If only I could find a way,
To say it like them poets say,
Sing a sweet and simple serenade,
Directly to your heart.

If only I could speak aloud,
Just what I feel when you're around,
I'd finally confess my love in verse,
But I'm not good with words.


This song speaks to that still-scared place inside many adults that wonders, "Will I be accepted just as I am?" and "Are my methods good enough?"

I think we all go through these phases, whether in adolescence, or over and over in adulthood.

Thanks to Jacob Whitesides, we have another voice in the music world affirming we are not alone.

I can't wait to see the places you'll go, Jacob. Your talent and heart — and even your looks — remind me of my little brothers. God bless you on your journey.

Connect with Jacob Whitesides

If you want to buy his EP, you can visit Whitesides' beautifully designed website, JacobWhitesides.com. He also is on YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Vine. (This "old lady" is getting tired just linking to all these sites!)

Share your feedback

Have a listen to his other music on YouTube. I'd love to hear from you: Which song(s) do you like? Why?

Read more of my blog posts about music here.
Gil Bender (Owen Wilson) roams the streets in "Midnight in Paris."

It's been awhile since I've written a movie review, amid all my other writing pursuits.

I could not, however, overlook Woody Allen's brilliant little gem, "Midnight in Paris" (2011).

My sister invited me to view it with her (she wanted to see it a second time before she had to return it to the library), so I went and watched it with her on Monday.

The characters 

The story is about a fictional American writer and filmmaker, Gil Bender (Owen Wilson), who visits Paris with his fiancee, Inez (Rachel McAdams). While in the city, he experiences world-alteringly weird and cool stuff. 

Gil is The Best. His name proves it. If you're a writer or creative type, or if you appreciate creativity, you'll love this guy. He is smart, witty, humble and not terribly ambitious, but he persistently pursues his craft. Which is why he's in Paris to begin with. He wants to write The Great American Novel as an ex-pat, like so many before him have done. Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway. The list goes on. 

But his fiancee won't move there with him. She wants to live in Hollywood forever, getting rich off Gil's filmmaking career. 

Inez is The Worst. If you're a decent human being of any kind, you'll think rich, spoiled Inez, and her indulgent and clueless parents, Helen (Mimi Kennedy) and John (Kurt Fuller) should all be pushed into a lake. 

Inez is cloyingly flirtatious with an old college pal, Paul (Michael Sheen), whom the group bumps into at a restaurant. (Cue foreshadowy, ominous music).

At every turn, she thwarts Gil's plans to gather inspiration and spend time alone writing. She belittles his ambitions. She only cares about jewelry and shopping. She is That Girl, a broad-strokes caricature of a shallow, self-absorbed woman. 

The conflict

Here's the thing: Inez feels very real. That's because Woody Allen gives her a legitimate desire, the desire to be loved and admired. He then twists it like a snake bite until we are writhing in agony, seething in frustration with her and even with lovable Gil. They keep miscommunicating, reinforcing a cycle of blow-ups and hang-ups. 

The love and beauty

The movie's thumping heartbeat, though, is neither of these two vibrant lead characters. The film's sweet and tender core is its loving homage to literature, music, art and the character of Paris. The streets are filled with it, at all hours of the day — especially after midnight. Gil discovers this in an original and thrilling plot twist pretty early on in the film.

You'll have to watch the movie to fully know what I mean. I can't say more without spoilers.

Meanwhile, check out this clip from one of my favorite scenes. (Warning: It does contain spoilers. In my opinion, though, the spoilers won't ruin your appetite for the movie, if you decide to watch it.) 


Confused? Delighted? Want to watch the whole thing and find out more? Good. Mission accomplished. :)
I am always finding new truths about life, faith and creative pursuits in the music of Brandi Carlile, a Seattle-based folk rock singer-songwriter. (Photo: NPR.org) 

Have you ever revisited a song and found a new truth in it? I do it all the time. Here’s an example. 

I hopped in the car to visit a friend recently. Brandi Carlile’s “Bear Creek” album was in the CD player. The day before, I was listening to it for the first time in a few months. I said to my husband that Track 8, “I’ll Still Be There,” is a beautiful picture of friendship.

Then, while listening to it on the road to my friend Pam’s — holy waterworks — I realized something.

“I’ll Still Be There” is not just a sweet picture of human love. It also describes my relationship with the Holy Spirit. Especially lately, as I’ve emerged from a difficult season. Grief. Shame. Depression. Anxiety. I have a new appreciation for the Spirit’s role as The Comforter and Power-Giver.

To understand what I mean, listen to “I’ll Still Be There”:



I imagine this as a conversation between me and the Holy Spirit. I am talking to him and he is responding.

I tell him, “There never was a better love / to see the light of day” than his. He replies, “If the world should let you down / if the sky should fall and never make a sound,” he’ll be there.

We are both brokenhearted. The world let us down. I am brokenhearted by my suffering, yours and ours.

He is brokenhearted because he never wanted us to suffer. It was a known but not wished-for consequence of giving humanity free will. He wouldn’t take free will back, but our pain breaks his heart.

Otherwise, why would he say this through the Apostle Paul?

“In the same way, the Spirit himself helps us in our weaknesses. … (He) intercedes for us through wordless groans.” (Romans 8:26)

Wordless groans. That sounds intense. Does the Spirit of God care for me so much he would put himself through the pain of wordless groans on my behalf?

I am forced to conclude he does. All the evidence in my life points to it. And Scripture backs me up.

I am like King David in the Old Testament. I say to God,

“Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint; heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.” (Psalm 6:2)

And God hears me: 

“Away from me, all you who do evil, for the Lord has heard my weeping. The Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer.” (Psalm 6:8-9)

What Brandi Carlile said about human love, I reclaim as truth about the Spirit, my friend and healer. There never was a better love.

I pray I can remember this truth next time I need healing.

Read more of my posts about music here and faith here.
The Cathedral of St. Andrew in Grand Rapids.

The Evangelical Choral Society is a severely underrated musical gemster in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and you, the public, can turn that around. You'll love this choir. It's filled with heart and technical skill. As they belt out the classics, the group will twist up your music-loving guts and knock your (probably) Argyle socks off.

On Saturday, my dear husband, precious sister and I were blessed to attend the group's semi-annual public performance. This spring's concert was held at the Cathedral of St. Andrew — the Grand Rapids Catholic Diocese headquarters.

Besides being an obscenely lovely building that's about to celebrate its 140th birthday, the cathedral, as noted by music director and diocese organist Nick Palmer, who welcomed the audience on Saturday, is perfectly acoustically designed to radically majestify the beauty of choral music. That's a paraphrase.

The church often hosts community concerts, not just sacred music but also opera and whatknot, which I think is a wonderful outreach. Brava, St. Andrew's! You brothers and sisters got it. And when you got it, flaunt it.

Randall Wm. Burghart addresses the audience between songs.

Saturday's concert, led by the group's esteemed conductor and music director, Randall Wm. "Randy" Burghart, featured three works in German, one in Latin and three in English, and two outstanding sopranos: Kristen Burghart (Randy's awesome classically trained singer-chef-cool person-wife, whose voice you local folks might recognize from Opera GR performances), and Mary Lehr Dean, whom I hadn't seen perform with the group before, but found to be an impressive talent whose high notes could probably break glass. But not the glass at St. Andrew's, because it was recently reinforced.

Here is Dean singing lead soprano on the song, "God So Loved the World," by Bob Chilcott:



Wow. Chills. (Bee tee dubs, I don't admit this very often, but I cried during Dean's performance. Coddle me, mommet. Oy vey.)

The program was about evenly split between classic and modern works: Johannes Brahms, Felix Mendelssohn and Georg Schumann, balanced with Chilcott, David Cherwien and a spiritual by the late Moses Hogan.

For me, the wild card was the Latin, Holy-Thursday masterwork by Marc Antonio Ingegnieri, "Ecce Vidimus Eum," a sixteenth-century liturgical piece I hadn't heard before. I loved it. Here it is:



I'm glad Burghart invited his longtime musical collaborator Bethany Schutter, an alto singer and Hudsonville High School voice instructor, to conduct one of the songs, the spiritual by Moses Hogan, "Deep River."

This is a favorite piece for me and my fellow pianist sister, Marissa, ever since we learned to play an arrangement of it years and years ago on keys. We were delighted to hear it performed a capella. The keyboard is no match for the agonizing so-good-it-hurts bazinga of a spiritual.



The closing performance was an 11-minute, beautiful, nuanced and expertly honed rendition of Felix Mendelssohn's "Hear My Prayer," the evening's only piece with organ accompaniment, as performed by St. Andrew's Nick Palmer. His pipe organ rocks the friggin' casbah.

"Hear My Prayer" was soprano Kristen Burghart's chance to shine, and she stepped up and delivered the goods, as she invariably does.

My sister and I were particularly tickled by her expressive countenance during her solo sections. Besides her overall pleasant demeanor, it seemed from where we were sitting that she mostly kept her eyes fixed on her husband's face, not his conducting gestures or her songbook or the crowd. The eye contact, or what appeared to us was eye contact, is a sweet habit of theirs I've noticed at other ECS concerts. I imagine it communicates their years of musical togetherness and mutual affection. (Or is that my mushy heart showing?)

Watch to see if you can catch her not-so-covert glances in this stunning video of the finale, "Hear My Prayer."

Regarding the caliber of the show as a whole, I foresee the cathedral taking up a collection for roof repairs, because the music raised the rafters off their hinges and slammed them back down again. Mylanta!



Like what you heard?

 The Evangelical Choral Society, a nonprofit 501(c)3 organization, performs free concerts twice yearly: once in the spring and again in the fall. The fall 2015 concert will be held the Sunday before Thanksgiving at First (Park) Congregational Church, 10 E. Park Place NE in downtown Grand Rapids.

As an added bonus, at that concert, ECS will be performing with a full orchestra. (Squee!) To learn more, visit www.ecs-gr.org, or "Like" their Facebook page.

Note: I am, as you might have noticed from my inexcusably familiar remarks, acquainted with the Burgharts, owing to our mutual Cornerstone University ties. I was not, however, in any way paid or goaded into writing this review. So when you donate your moolah on the ECS website, and please do, you need not fret that the money will be mismanaged on dubious propaganda campaigns that involve hiring this cornball reviewer. I can't however, promise not to review their music again. Because they are my kryptonite. Peace out, homies.
If you read this blog long enough, you'll find out I love folk music, singer-songwriters, and bands that cross traditional genre boundaries.

What especially grabs my attention is bands whose song lyrics tell a captivating story or spark my imagination in some way.

Here's this week's example: a song from a Chicago-based indie folk rock band The Diving Bell. (Full disclosure: The band's founder is my husband's cousin, Steve Hendershot.)

Hendershot and his band collaborated on the video below with the writer whose book inspired the song and the band's name: James P. Delgado, author of "Misadventures of a Civil War Submarine: Iron, Guns and Pearls."

The song is called "Pacific Pearl Co. 1869," and it's about the first successful deep-diving submersible, built in 1864 by Julius H. Kroehl. He intended it to be used in the Civil War, but it was completed too late, and so was repurposed as a pearl diving ship for use off the Pacific coast of Panama.

I hope you enjoy the song — the harmonies, the writing, the strings, and the lead vocals — as much as I did. I hope you enjoy the story, too.



Here's a live performance of the same song that was recorded for submission to NPR's Tiny Desk Concerts contest:



The lyrics are below.

"Pacific Pearl Co. 1869," by The Diving Bell

We sailed the first great submarine
Sank down in that dark machine, oh yeah
We dove where no one had before
Breathing on the ocean floor, oh yeah
Saw the bottom of the world
It was empty, it was cold
We set the craft ashore
Stood there like the fools we were, oh yeah
Just like the fools we were, like the fools we were

The violent will of technology
Transcends every boundary, oh yeah
The bright blue sea turns violet and then black
Seven fathoms deep
Yet we dove to harvest pearls
And found a barren reef
So you can build the first great submarine
And still a failure be
And still a failure be, still a failure be

Julius, the engineer
Poured the rum and built the fire, oh yeah
The ocean is vain and she is cruel
And loath to suffer fools
We passed the bottle and we sang
For history and for shame
Behold the bitter monument
Mourn the deepest diver, spent
O the bitter monument, the bitter monument

The men all went their separate ways
Mostly back home to the states, so yeah
‘Til just the engineer remained
Where his heart and vessel lay, so yeah
At the low tide, he would meet
Her there along the shore
And the wind would echo forth
The beauty of her form and force
The beauty of her form, beauty of her force

That was 1869
In spring 2001
They found her crusted through with pearls
And heard their quiet song
Heard their song, heard their quiet song

More about The Diving Bell

If you'd like to read the full story behind the song "Pacific Pearl Co. 1869," visit this page. To get updates about The Diving Bell's upcoming Midwest shows, visit their website or "Like" the band's Facebook page.

Read more posts in the Groovy Tuesday series here.
Rhiannon Giddens

I was browsing through my viewing history on Amazon yesterday and discovered a new artist under the suggested purchases section.

Her name is Rhiannon Giddens, and she is an African-American, cross-genre, multi-instrumentalist musician and singer who just produced a debut solo album in February called "Tomorrow Is My Turn," after the Nina Simone song of the same title.

Her voice is ... wow. I don't think I know of anyone else recording music today with a sound quite like hers. She's got a throwback style that somehow feels fresh and new.

I'm glad T Bone Burnett agreed and helped produce her album, which is full of deftly arranged cover songs. Take a listen below to the final track on her record, which is her original song, "Angel City."

It's a gentle, memoir-like ballad that pulls on my heartstrings.



"Angel City," by Rhiannon Giddens


When I came to Angel City, I was on the run
Blinded by my own pity, I was nearly done
Stock heartbroken, bitter and poor, burdened down by sin
I fought hard to find the door, didn't know how to get in

[Chorus]
Time and time at hand, you helped me over the sand
Gently rising to be, you walked a mile with me
And I saw the sea

I am found where I was lost, I am closer to free
Heart unbound, whatever the cost, all rivers fall to the sea

[Chorus] x2


If slow and gentle ballads aren't your thing, the good news is, this album has a lot of variety of tempos and styles. I'd almost say "something for everyone," but I'll concede not everyone is going to love her voice like I do.

Buy her music


If you do love Rhiannon Giddens' voice and want to learn more about her music, visit her website. Buy her debut album on Amazon or at iTunes.

Read more posts in the Groovy Tuesday series here.
Today's Easter message at my church, Ada Bible, was one of the best I've heard our lead teaching pastor, Jeff Manion, preach since I started attending there five years ago.

You can watch it here. Or, if you'd like the short version, read on.

"The Road to Emmaus," by Robert Zund (1877)

The Disciples on the Road to Emmaus 


Instead of a sermon on the discovery of the empty tomb, or a look at the resurrection through the eyes of one of the Twelve, Pastor Jeff's message zoomed out a bit and took a look at a conversation between two of the disciples in Jesus' outer circle, as they walked from Jerusalem to a small village called Emmaus on the Sunday of the resurrection. On that seven-mile hike, the pair were discussing Jesus' execution and their disappointment with the way things had apparently turned out.

[By saying these disciples were in the "outer circle," I mean they were more like groupies than bandmates. In other words, they weren't part of the chosen Twelve.]

These two groupies, Cleopas and another unnamed person, had believed Jesus was the one who would redeem Israel. But when Christ was crucified that Friday, it seemed to them that all of that had fallen apart. They were rudderless. Losing their faith.

But then, Jesus joined them on the road, alive, in the flesh. They were prevented from recognizing him, so he took the opportunity for a teachable moment. Luke chapter 24:17-27 has the story:

17 He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?”
They stood still, their faces downcast. 18 One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, “Are you the only one visiting Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?”
19 “What things?” he asked.
“About Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied. “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. 20 The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. ...
25 He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! 26 Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” 27 And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.

After this, they invited him to dinner in the village. As he gave thanks for the meal, the two disciples finally recognized him. Just like that, he vanished. They were so excited, they trekked all the way back to Jerusalem in the dark to tell the other disciples he had risen from the dead.

What's amazing to me about this story is that Jesus cared so much about these two that he took the time to personally explain everything they were so slow to see — all that the Scriptures had foretold but that they had either misinterpreted or forgotten. And, in so doing, he helped them regain their moorings.

Lost and Found 


Pastor Jeff told a few more stories about losing and regaining faith. 

The one that resonated with me most was of British writer and thinker A.N. Wilson, who, while researching a biography of C.S. Lewis, found himself losing his faith in God. 

A.N. Wilson

For 20 years, Wilson identified as an atheist and hobnobbed with famed secular humanists such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens. 

Then, Wilson began to doubt his unbelief. It wasn't as if Jesus appeared to him to set the record straight, as He did with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. It was a collection of small realities, such as the existence of language and music, that drew him back. Here's an excerpt from an article he wrote for the New Statesman in April 2009, called "Why I Believe Again":

The existence of language is one of the many phenomena — of which love and music are the two strongest — which suggest that human beings are very much more than collections of meat. They convince me that we are spiritual beings, and that the religion of the incarnation, asserting that God made humanity in His image, and continually restores humanity in His image, is simply true. As a working blueprint for life, as a template against which to measure experience, it fits.

I can't think of a better truth to reflect upon this Easter evening.

That, and the unparalleled beauty of Bach, some of the most stunning and spiritual music you'll ever hear:



Earlier this year, one of my favorite folk rock bands, The Lone Bellow, released their second album, "Then Came the Morning." It's a beautiful showcase of the band's abilities, which already were so strongly evident in their self-titled first album.

I love this band for many reasons: visceral emotion (they really put their hearts into their performances); their beautiful three-part vocals; use of upright bass, violin and piano; and the way I find these bits and pieces of scriptural themes in their songwriting. I don't know whether the latter is intentional or if I'm just seeing it because I'm looking. Either way, I love it.

Here's an example from their current album. In Psalm 30, there's this beautiful verse, "Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning." That's a verse I think of often on nights when I'm feeling at my worst — I hold onto the knowledge that the morning brings a rested mind and a fresh perspective.

I don't know the story behind the title song, "Then Came the Morning," but it sounds like a break-up song, whether of a marriage or longtime relationship, I don't know. But the line that's repeated is one of relief, of light and water rushing in to wash away heartbreak.



"Then Came The Morning," by The Lone Bellow


Then came the morning
It was bright, like a light that you kept from your smile
Then came the morning
Like a flood from the storm that you kept from my heart

Take the dog with you when you leave
Wash my hands of all this broken heave
Never forget what you thought you’d never be
If you ever let me
Break the spell and try and
Leave it when we couldn’t find it

Then came the morning
It was bright, like a light that you kept from your smile
Then came the morning
Like a flood from the storm that you kept from my heart

Take my words, breathe them out like smoke
Burn every single letter that I wrote
Let the pages turn to ash, I don’t want them back
Everything you always said to me
Starts to sound like broken glass on streets
Spreaded out all over places where I sleep

Now you finally left me
Done with all your lying
Joy comes in the morning
You won’t see me crying

Then came the morning
It was bright, like the light that you kept from your smile
Then came the morning
Like a flood from the storm that you kept from my heart

Then came the morning
It was lost when you left when you took what I felt
Then came the morning
Then came the morning
Then came the morning
Then came the morning

Then the storm breaks the cold
Not towards the line I thought you stole
Start to feel what I felt way before
You broke down my front door
Popped my heart up off the wooden floor
Now I don’t need your smile anymore

Then came the morning
It was bright, like a light that you kept from your smile
Then came the morning
Like a flood from the storm that you kept from my heart

Then came the morning
Then came the morning
Then came the morning
Then came the morning
Then came the morning

Isn't that beautiful? It really captures how we as humans often hold joy in one hand and heartbreak in the other.

If you liked that, you might also like a song with scriptural threads from their first album, "Teach Me to Know." It echoes a line from Psalm 39:4, which says "Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is."


"Teach Me To Know," by The Lone Bellow


First born
Carried promise of the old one
You're the same but somehow different
Bared the burdens of the line

It breaks in
And you never see it coming
Seems like every other morning
Like a secret you can't tell

And you get carried away
Carried away (carried away, carried away)
Carried away (carried away, carried away)

Out there
Thousand years into the future
Almost nothing of it seems sure
Things so rarely stay the same

Right here
In these burning simple seconds
Living out all your best guesses
Someone's calling out your name

And you get carried away
Carried away (carried away, carried away)
Carried away (carried away, carried away)
Carried away (carried away, carried away)
Carried away (carried away, carried away)

Teach me to know my number of days
Hold out my heart from getting carried
[x3]

Carried away (carried away, carried away)
Carried away (carried away, carried away)
Carried away (carried away, carried away)
Carried away (carried away, carried away)

Buy the music


Like what you hear and want to hear the rest? To purchase The Lone Bellow's new album, visit thelonebellow.com or find it on iTunes or Amazon. 

Read more posts in the Groovy Tuesday series here. 
Today, I'm celebrating with a friend and former roommate, singer-songwriter Sarah Lamb, who last week released her debut EP, "Waiting," under the name .ara.

The music is a pleasant, sometimes haunting mixture of pop and R&B, and it fully exercises the beauty of Sarah's vocal range. 

The songwriting unveils honest yearnings for artistic success, romantic love and a deeper faith connection to God.

Album cover art by Kaitlin Jean Photography.

Sarah, who is originally from New London, Wisconsin, studied Spanish and music at Cornerstone University in Grand Rapids, Michigan. 

While at Cornerstone, she sang and played keyboard as a member of the school's Sunday night Evensong worship band, and she also sang in the eight-part a capella Credo choir. 

After graduation — during the time we were roommates — Sarah spent a few years managing bookings and tours for West Michigan bands and singing background vocals for other acts, as well as working full- and part-time day jobs.

Then, she moved to Nashville a few years ago to pursue her dream of becoming a recording artist in her own right.

I'm so happy to see Sarah realizing another step toward her lifelong goals. I hope you'll join me in supporting her music.

Buy the EP


To buy the EP "Waiting," by .ara., visit her website or buy it directly from iTunes. To receive updates, "Like" her Facebook page, ARA.-Music.


Read more posts in the Groovy Tuesday series here.
We all know the classic Christmas ballet, Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker."

But did you know about the enchanting 1990 animated film "The Nutcracker Prince" loosely based on E.T.A. Hoffman's story, "The Nutcracker and the Mouse King"? It uses music from the Tchaikovsky ballet and features the vocal talents of Keifer Sutherland and Megan Follows.

"The Nutcracker Prince" 
I grew up watching this movie every holiday season, and it's still a favorite for me and my sisters.

I have always strongly identified with the protagonist, a young dreamer named Clara (Megan Follows). Her "uncle" Drosselmeyer is an inventor and magician of sorts, and he brings stories and other realms to life for Clara when he gives her a nutcracker shaped like a soldier and fills her in on the gift's history.

This clip from the movie is the prelude to one of my favorite scenes. Clara can't sleep, so she comes downstairs on Christmas Eve and dances with the nutcracker, singing him a song set to Tchaikovsky's "Waltz of the Flowers":




"Clara's Song"


If you could hear me now 
If I could only get through 
I'd open my heart, whisper my dreams 
Share all my secrets with you 

If you could see me now 
Waiting for someone to hold 
Someone so brave who's never afraid 
Someone who's strong like the knights of old 

I save this dance for you 
I hope it lasts forever 
So let one star shine through 
And make my wish come true 

If you could hear this song 
This dance would last forever 
I'd carry us along 
To a place where we belong

If you haven't seen the movie, I highly recommend it. The animation is ... well ... 1990 animation, but that aside, it's a beautiful, imaginative story with lots of color, humor and joy. 

Read more posts in the Groovy Tuesday series here.

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I think, read and write. I might review books, mull on music, spin original poems, share insights or tell stories, but you can be sure whatever you read here comes from a thoughtful and considered place within.

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