music

My Favorite Decade for Music

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If I had to pick a decade that had the best music, you’d think I’d go with the 80s because so many songs from that decade are tied to my memories and are part of the soundtrack to my life.

But you’d be wrong. My favorite decade for music is the 70s. There was such a diverse amount of artists and styles hitting the radio then, usually all on the same stations. So many genres were fusing with other genres to create new sounds.

I’ve been digging me some 70s Christian music, especially the early years when it was known as Jesus Music. That music has a vibe that’s both worshipful and relaxing. I honestly hope that music in heaven sounds a bit like the music from back then.

I think part of it is because I consider the 70s to be my womb years. It sounds weird even to me, but hopefully I can explain. I don’t remember much about the 70s and the memories I do have sometimes verge on the dreamlike. Sometimes I wonder if something I remember from back then actually happened or if I dreamed it.

I love the fact that there’s all sorts of new worship music being created currently. I really like some of it. But for me, sometimes it can have kind of a sameness to it and the lyrics can have a generic quality with all the references to storms and chains breaking.

So much of it is me-focused, as in “I’m gonna lift up my hands” and “I’m praising your name” and “I won’t be shaken.” I suppose that’s all well and good. But for me, it can turn into worshipping worship or worshipping the experience instead of worshipping the one true God.

70s Christian music wasn’t perfect, but it was God-honoring and God-centered. And yes, it does sound better on vinyl, which is good because most of it never made it to CDs or streaming. Maybe I’m getting older, but I do think that sometimes older is better. Not all the time, but sometimes.

The Lost Art of Porch Sitting

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I think in my twilight years I want a house with a front porch. It doesn’t have to be a big house. It can even be one of those tiny houses as long as there is room enough in front for a rocking chair and/or a wicker swing.

I see houses all the time that have front porches of all sizes and types and shapes, from wraparounds to those that barely stretch past the entry. But I very rarely see anyone sitting on those front porches. Most people are too busy and have lost that art of being able to sit on their front porches.

I think it’s a lost art. It’s one thing to be physically present on a front porch but be mentally elsewhere, whether it be on social media via all the devices or with thoughts that are a thousand miles away. Sometimes, all you need is a front porch, a rocking chair, and a good book. Or even just the front porch and rocking chair on a beautiful sunny day.

We’re so addicted to our devices that 15 minutes without them can seem like 15 years. It’s easy to spend all that time wondering what you’re missing out on or what breaking news you haven’t heard about. But all that can wait for a few moments of hearing the hum of a creaky porch swing or the song of the cicadas.

People did that back in the day. They’d spend afternoons and evenings on the front porches, visiting neighbors and sharing sweet tea and their lives. They didn’t have devices. Further back in the day, they didn’t have television. Those front porches were their social media, their grapevine, their community all rolled up into one.

Back when I was little, I’d sometimes curl up on a porch swing and fall asleep to the creaky swaying rhythm and gentle breezes blowing. I’m sure that life can’t be THAT simple again, but I wonder if we don’t overcomplicate our lives with too much stuff and too many activities and not enough margin. We can choose to say no to things to have room for rest and reflection.

I want to get good at front porch sitting, not doing anything other than waving at neighbors and being in the moment and hearing the small still voice of God.

Vinyl Obsession

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I used to scoff at all the people who were completely obsesses over all things vinyl. I figured that records had been replaced by CDs in the 80s and were obsolete technology. I also saw the prices of some of the newer records and decided the whole thing was ridiculous.

Then I got a record player for Christmas. Excuse me, a turntable. I have to use the correct terminology.

My favorite part is still the hunt. Going into my favorite record store, I always check out the new arrivals first. Then I’ll check out the Christian music section. Last but not least (and if there’s time), I’ll go through the bargain bins.

On rare occasion, there will be a free bin or two. That’s when I’ll really nerd out.

The best part is never knowing what you’ll find in the cheapies. There might be nothing but Mitch Miller and Lawrence Welk. That’s great for the blue-haired crowd, but I’m still a bit too young (with apologies for you if you like tiny bubble music).

This last time, I scored a couple of Morgan Cryar albums and a Geoff Moore record. That may not mean much to most, but to those of us who grew up listening to CCM back in the 80s, that’s a gold mine. Playing those records is guaranteed to bring back some instant youth group memories. Or youth group road trip memories.

Plus, watching the needle drop on the record at just the right spot before the first song is still magical. Even the pops and crackles sound good. The whole experience is just one long trip to nostalgia and simpler days.

There is one record I’m looking for that’s my new holy grail. It’s by an artist called Michael Omartian and the album is called White Horse. If you run across it, let me know. Or you can send me a link or whatever. My email is gmendel72@icloud.com.

To my fellow vinyl enthusiasts, may all your record hunts be successful and may you find that one elusive album. Happy vinyling!

More 90s CCM Goodness

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I’ve been listening to a podcast series by Andy Chrisman lately. Or more accurately, I’ve been watching Youtube videos of a podcast series by Andy Christman. They’re all centered around the Christian music industry and a lot of the stories revolve around 90s CCM.

To me, the 90s were the best decade for Christian music. There was such a diversity of talent and sounds that invaded radio stations all over the country. And that was back when radio stations had actual playlists of more than 15 songs.

For me to hear any Christian song from the 90s will take me back to the moment when I first heard it. Most likely, I can tell you the artist, the song and even the album title. I’d probably be really good at trivia centered around 80s and 90s Christian music.

But hearing the stories behind the songs from artists like 4Him and Russ Taff just makes their message more meaningful. To hear the struggles and hardships that the artists went through makes me appreciate them all the more. It also makes me want to pump up the volume on some 90s CCM at some point in the very near future.

I’m thankful that Christian music still exists. In some ways, it’s bigger than it’s ever been with a wider reach and more people buying albums and going to concerts. But compared to the rich variety of the 90s, there’s a bit of a sameness to a lot of what I hear currently. And I’m sure you could ask any Christian artist around today, and they’d probably say their inspiration came from something out of the 90s. And those from the 90s would probably point to artists in the 70s for inspiration (but that’s a discussion for another day).

I am thankful that I had all that great music to be a part of the formation and shaping of who I am today and what I believe. I’m thankful for the solid lyrics that will still come to mind to this day whenever I think of a particular artist. I’m thankful that so much of 90s CCM is part of the soundtrack to my life.

Old School CCM

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Maybe this makes me super old, but old music just sounds better. It sounds like real people playing real instruments and singing with real voices.

I grew up on 80s and 90s music, but if you want to get me started and never shut up, start talking to me about 80s and 90s Contemporary Christian Music. Mention artists like Kim Hill, Steven Curtis Chapman, Susan Ashton, PFR, dc talk, Julie Miller, Rich Mullins and so many of those others.

I’m pretty sure I’d win a trivia contest based off of old-school CCM. Or at least I’d know some of the answers.

One of my favorite artists from back when was Julie Miller. She had a unique sound and voice and could write songs like nobody else. Probably my favorite of hers is a song called “Nobody But You.” It’s so honest and transparent and true. Here are the lyrics:

“I have seen the night of a million tears
I have seen an angel’s smile
I have come of age and remained, these years
With the longings of a child

Nobody but you can find my heart
Nobody but you sees in the dark
Nobody but you can call my name and scatter all my pain

I have had the fears of an orphaned heart
I have had a homeless soul
I have been embraced in the arms of grace
You have brought my spirit home

Nobody but you can find my heart
Nobody but you sees in the dark
Nobody but you can call my name and scatter all my pain

Nobody but you can find my heart
Nobody but you sees in the dark
Nobody but you can call my name and scatter all my pain

Nobody but you, nobody but you
Nobody but you, nobody but you
Nobody but you, nobody but you
Nobody but you” (Julie Miller).

That Third Stanza

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If you’re like me and grew up in Baptist churches, you probably remember those old Baptist hymnals. You might remember that we sang a select few out of those hymnals over and over. But if you’re above a certain age, you’ll certainly remember that we always sang the first, second, and fourth stanzas of any hymn. Never the third.

Today, most of us can still remember the words to any of the old standards. But if you want to stump a Baptist, request the third stanza of any hymn. Any. Hymn. It doesn’t matter. The younger ones will resort to Google while the older ones may have to dig up an old hymnal they saved when their churches went to digital and lyrics on a screen.

But every now and then, there’s a gem hiding in the third stanza. A friend posted one such from It Came Upon a Midnight Clear, a very familiar Christmas carol. But the third stanza hit me like it was brand new — probably because it WAS brand new to me:

“O ye, beneath life’s crushing load, whose forms are bending low
Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow
Look now for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing
O rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing.”

I love the idea of Christmas Day as a time to rest and hear the angels singing. It may not be feasible for some, but I think we should all at least try to make room to sit and ponder the mystery of Christmas — God became a baby, born to a virgin in a barn, who grew up to be the Savior of the world.

Advent, Memories, and a Christmas Story

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I checked one off my list for required holiday movie viewing. I watched a Christmas Story tonight with all its round-faced kid glory. When I came to the part [spoiler alert ahead] where he finally got his long-sought Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas, I knew exactly the joy he felt.

I remember getting that present I had wanted all year. For me, it was a Commodore 64. For those who aren’t old, that’s a personal computer that had as much memory in it as a calculator. You could probably take the combined memory of every Commodore computer ever manufactured and it still wouldn’t add up to the memory in one iPhone. But it was a dream present.

I remember the joy of opening up gifts of Christmas morning to find something I had wanted and waited for the whole year. But sooner or later, the magic faded. The joy that was so strong at first waned. A lot of those presents eventually got sold at garage sales or got donated to Goodwill.

That’s the kind of joy that comes when we make Christmas a one day event where the focus is on opening presents and consuming lots of food. Soon, the giddiness is replaced by a kind of letdown and a sadness of having to wait 364 days until the next Christmas.

But when we focus on the child in the manger born on Christmas Day, the joy carries over. This child became the Savior of the world who doesn’t just live in our hearts one day of the year but all the days of the year.

This kind of joy lasts beyond December 25, even past the 12 days of Christmas. This joy is based on a hope that does not disappoint or decay or die. This hope is the now and the not yet of the kingdom of God. Now we see partly and catch glimpses of God breaking into the world, but one day we will see and know fully and see God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

We can celebrate the gifts and the food but keep our eyes fixed on the true reason for Christmas, Jesus.

A Little MCC in Person

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“This shirt is old and faded
All the colors washed away
I’ve had it now for more damn years
Than I can count anyway
I wear it beneath my jacket
With the collar turned up high
So old I should replace it
But I’m not about to try” (Mary Chapin Carpenter).

I can cross one off the ol’ bucket list. I saw Mary Chapin Carpenter at the CMA Theater inside the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in downtown Nashville.

To say it was amazing sounds cliched but was really an understatement. It was a kind of clinic on songwriting by one of the best around.

I think that a good writer, whether it’s songs or books or movie scripts or anything else, has the ability to say your feelings and thoughts better than you ever could. You can hear a song or read a book or hear a line from a movie and say, “Yes, that’s exactly how I felt!”

It’s hard to believe she’s been in the business for 30 years. You don’t get that kind of longevity unless you’re really good at what you do and really love what you do.

I hope there’s lots more good songs to come from Mary Chapin Carpenter. I may just have an MCC road trip with all her albums as my soundtrack. Maybe one day soon.

Obsessed

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As you probably figured out by now, I’m a bit of a music nerd. I likes me some music.

I never got into the newfangled digital downloaded stuff and I’m not quite hipster enough (or wealthy enough) for vinyl. So I stick with CDs like any good respectable old fogey would.

When it comes to artists or groups that I really like, I tend to become more than a little obsessive. As in I must go and buy their entire catalog as soon as possible.

The latest case is Mary Chapin Carpenter. I love her songwriting and her voice. Her music takes me to a calmer, happier place– even in the middle of rush hour traffic on I-65 South.

I confess I pre-ordered her newest album, Sometimes Just the Sky, slated to be released on March 30. I have no shame in my game. I know there will be quality music playing in my car on that day.

Here’s the link if you want to check it out for yourself:

https://smile.amazon.com/Sometimes-Just-Mary-Chapin-Carpenter/dp/B0794M5M7X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1517285377&sr=8-1&keywords=mary+chapin+carpenter

 

 

 

When Music Was King

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I caught a Journey concert in Houston from 1981 on PBS. It was back when the band was in their prime, when Steve Perry was at his peak as a vocal performer.

But man, they weren’t exactly GQ, were they? Neil Schon had some interesting facial expressions while playing guitar, including some that looked like breathing exercises. Steve Perry had the whole head tilt to the right whenever he went for a high note. And they all looked like they were wearing Mom jeans.

But none of that mattered because the music was great.

Lately, it feels like image is everything and the music has become secondary. The result is that you get a lot of ear candy pop music that is utterly disposable and instantly forgettable.

There’s a reason why a lot of great bands in the 70’s didn’t have videos or their faces on their album covers. They weren’t exactly the prettiest people in the world, but man did they make some great and lasting music.

I still think the best decade for music was the 70’s, even though I’m a child of the 80’s. Just thought I should state that for the record, in case you were wondering.