Festival of Faith & Music Saturday Concert, Saturday, April 2, 2005

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American Folk: Pierce Pettis
Pierce Pettis’ own songwriting works with God’s Word like a warm spring day work with the land and rivers. All winter the beauty of Creation lay there, but a warm spring day brings the land and rivers forth like they’re brand new, seeing it all on the seventh day of Creation. Pettis can help bring forth those truths of God, which we may have forgotten, with such sun-surprise warmth.

So while Pettis’ own writing does this quite well, his guitar work on Mark Heard’s “Another Day in Limbo” actually served to illustrate a whole other dimension of Pettis’ abilities to speak forth truth. Both during a teaser show at the Fish House Café on campus at noon on Thursday and during his set for Saturday night’s concert, Pettis’ guitar work brought out the dark tension but also the hope and light in Heard’s song. It lets the song rail against the world while having a country dance air.

The newly rewritten “Nights in Vera Cruz” features Pettis’ fine finger-style guitar. That led into “Black Sheep Boy” played on his Irish-made Avalon guitar, and I couldn’t help but to hear the hills of Ireland in the picked waves on the chorus. Pettis then dedicated “Donegal Road” his friend, Festival presenter, Irishman, and writer Steve Stockman. Now playing his Ovation guitar, the strum pattern has a banjo, Irish house gig feel. A song of not taking sides in Northern Ireland, urging for peace instead, the Irish-influenced tune with a banjo feel shows the connection between Irish and Appalachian music.

Elsewhere as he sings about “something for the pain,” I think of how the Gospel is like this Burt’s Bees Hand Salva my wife gave me for my cracked fingers. The Gospel smooths and heals. More than just his words of “shelter from the rain,” Pettis brings that salve and protection through his cascading guitar.

Fighting a cold, Pettis closed by asking us to pray for his church, the Catholic Church, just hours after Pope John Paul II had died. He then played the reverse psychology, “reverse theology” of “God Believes in You.” An antithesis to worship songs which focus on “I believe,” “I follow,” or “I decide,” this song puts God in the faithful role to all of our fickle-natured behavior. May we all know this grace.

Thanks to Pierce Pettis and Compass Records.

College Rock: Half-handed Cloud
In the dark hush between sets, Half-handed Cloud (John Ringhofer) came on stage with guitar and a plastic grocery bag full of tricks. Sitting at the piano, he laid out his trinkets which would produce music or simply be humorous props.

I was reminder of my best friend, Michael, in high school. During jazz band concerts, he and I had our stash of props—fake birds attached to our saxophones for “Birdland,” sunglasses for our favorite song. Our band director, Dr. Earl C. Benson, always warned us that we wouldn’t be ready for antics if we didn’t know our music. We continued with the antics; I flubbed notes all the way. Ringhofer knows his music, but there’s none of the polished, uptightness to his stage presence. I don’t think he would have listened to Dr. Benson either. Instead, Ringhofer presents the joy of music and shared jokes with the audience.

For “Let’s Go Javelin’,” that fun song from the Old Testament about running through a sinner with a sword, Ringhofer pressed a little toy that makes a laser gun sound while two audience members launched Nerf rockets at the stage. “Trying Each Other’s Glasses On” leads to realizing who is “blinder,” and Ringhofer put on a pair of glasses for mock blurred vision as the last piano notes faded.

“Let’s Build a Planet” recounts God’s plan to create the world and people. When the song gets to that fateful moment of the serpent saying, “Go ahead. Eat from the tree,” Ringhofer crunches into an apple. “I’m So Sheepy” featured a wind-up sheep walking across the stage, a toy sheep noisemaker, and a little stuffed sheep facing the audience or away depending on the lyrics.

In Half-handed Cloud’s thirty minute set, he played 19 songs. As his friends Sufjan Stevens and Daniel Smith (Brother Danielson) said in an artist talkback earlier that day, they appreciate Ringhofer’s boldness to write songs that only last as long as they need to—even if that’s only 30 seconds. Those short songs actually require repeated listening to fully mine the truths in their words.

Half-handed Cloud is just John Ringhofer. On recordings, he employs friends to fill out the sound, but Saturday night, he happily and humbly sits on stage. He appears shy, a little awkward, perhaps nervous, although as Sarah Masen would comment as she took the stage, “You didn’t seem nervous at all.” There’s a commanding confidence about Ringhofer even as he seems to defer to others, immediately going from artist in the spotlight to being Masen’s stagehand.

What comes through the most in these childlike tunes, playful even as they deal with blood, sin, and death, is the pure joy of singing, making melody. Ringhofer had said during the artist talkback that he’s most interested in melody, a statement that’s a bit odd considering the brevity and quirkiness of his songs. Yet, watching him on stage, there’s no doubt that the melody is what Ringhofer wants you to catch in your heart.

Some of these songs work like psalms. However, far from being our normal assumption about what is holy, reverential, and deeply spiritual, HhC gets more to the nature of the heartfelt psalm-poem-prayer. A line like “please rewire my desire” (from Learning About Your Scale’s “Rewire My Desire”) says everything about Romans 7 and Paul’s (our) struggle between sin and the new life. “We Haven’t Just Been Told, We’ve Been Loved” says, “You’re pure, but messy with our blood.” There are very few words I’ve heard that so adequately describe Christ’s atonement for our sins.

Finally, the Church needs songwriters and storywriters like HhC who are able to create sympathetic tellings of the worst sinners in the Bible. “I Ate My Son” shows the utter lostness of the Israelites, suffering a famine for their waywardness, practicing infanticide, and attempting to kill Elisha the prophet (2 Kings 6). However, the song aches with how these were real people who really felt lost in the punishment for their sins, searching for some solution. When they fall for false solutions, they are no different than us and our deluded solutions which don’t involve God’s truth. Why not write a sympathetic tune for us sinners who need to see the truth of God?

Thanks to Half-handed Cloud and Asthmatic Kitty.

Country-influenced Rock: Sarah Masen
I hate to admit it, Sarah, but I first got your CDs from the bargain list at an online Christian retailer. Whether because they had an overstock or because of your shifting relationship with the Christian Music Industry, I bought them cheaply, not doubt giving you no financial benefit. How could such an artist be jettisoned, cut out, cast off?

I hate to admit this, Sarah, because it is your performance on
Saturday night that keeps coming to mind over these days since. As you sweetly sang, “Tears Like Flowers,” and as you played that guitar for all its worth on “In the Valley,” there wasn’t anything bargain bin about it. The country-blues-folk of “In the Valley” electrifies me still, blazing and grooving with the country-soul-punk of Maria McKee.

Those CDs I bought from the bargain bin, Sarah Masen (1996) and Carry Us Through (1998), though, placed you in the Folk-influenced American Rock section, among other folky-pop artists like Susan Ashton and Margaret Becker. Becker starts to add angles and edges to the smoothed out folk-pop, but I now see that you, Sarah, do much more than this.

Prompted by your performance on Saturday, you’re moving in the Spectrum to be next to Maria McKee in the Country-influenced Rock section. In your whisper-like, full-throated voice that rise and punches and dreams, there’s also echoes of the Sundays, Til’ Tuesday, Shawn Colvin, and Nanci Griffith. “Hope,” which talks about “taking off our clothes to sing” as a picture of eternal life’s transparency, your dancing prompted some guitar work that yields the rhythms also found in Colvin’s “Shotgun Down the Avalanche.”

Despite those other similarities, take your place next to McKee in the Spectrum, Sarah, because you’re a country blues, Gospel singer, commanding attention, emotion, and reaction through the raw intensity of your performance, a rawness usually only spoken of in full electric hard rock, a rawness that never obliterates the young, spinning girl on the dance floor.
****

Sarah Masen’s songs could be so simply done, but they have so much dimension through her dynamic guitar embellishments, providing her own rhythm section. Also, she does not stay on some pedastal, but shows her humble faith in the humor and warmth of her stage presence.

Inspired by Half-handed Cloud, Masen began her set with Mr. Rogers’ “It’s You I Like.” This gave a nod to Ringhofer’s childlike joy, and it put to music the crowd’s own appreciation for Ringhofer—even with Masen’s wink and smile of using a song from the man loved by so many children.

While not against organs, Masen still admitted that “What Wondrous Love is This” can come off in a scary way with a lot of organ. She closed her set with her arrangement of the hymn, a quiet meditation which left the audience still—still mouths, paused hands waiting to applaud, still hearts in peace.

Thanks to Sarah Masen.

David Bazan (Pedro the Lion)
“Are there any questions at this time?” David Bazan (Pedro the Lion) asked, squinting into the spotlights, looking into the darkened auditorium. He was completely serious. While this was the evening concert, Bazan would actually have two Q&A sections. After a timid silence, the questions started coming.

Q: “What CDs are in your CD player right now?”
A: “Crystal Skulls.”

Q: “What are your favorite songs to play?”
A: “Some hymns have been very satisfying.” (The answer was followed by a heartfelt version of “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing”).

Q: [Compared to two years ago at this Festival], “why do you seem more confident performing now?”
A: “I’ve got a jacket on” (uncomfortable about his body size). “I started this set with some songs with funny lyrics. That makes me feel good.”

Actually, though, Bazan seems a little surprised by the question, seeming to believe that he actually didn’t appear very confident. As he sat alone on stage, kind of making up the set list as he went, arguing with himself about to capo or not to capo, Bazan didn’t appear all that confident. Yet, those that heard Bazan that night could see past those things, seeing just how confident he is.

Bazan opened his set with “Sh*t Talker,” a song from his side project, the Headphones, a song filled with the word, “sh*t.” While those artists and speakers at the Festival are bold folk, most were not cussing so much. Bazan took on subjects like George W. Bush, Blockbuster, and American pride. He sang Randy Newman’s “We’ll Drop the Big One,” a song pointing out the absurdity of an American pride that would do away with all others in the world. He told the crowd to reject Blockbuster, claiming they edit out objectionable material from films sold or rented in their stores. (This claim is Bazan’s and has not been fact checked). Such point blank approaches to subjects exudes true confidence.

It’s a confidence I saw in his workshop earlier in the day. Bazan urges the Church to have a “posture of discovery,” setting aside our preconceived, knee-jerk reactions to topics. Instead, Bazan feels the Church needs to allow questions to lead us to search the Bible, make our faith to be founded on Christ and not just the Bible, and allow the truth of forgiveness to give us the confidence to be humble and admit our sins. I told him he sounded like Martin Luther. As radical as he may be on some points, Bazan is urging us towards Christ alone, grace alone.

So, then, on a song like “Slow and Steady Wins the Race,” there’s the true grace coming through saying we’ll realize that people “all deserve to be in heaven, too.” Bazan’s songs are lonely, dark, like John Gorka without his deep voice. However, just as Gorka inserts humor into those languid reflections on life, Bazan uses humor just enough to keep the songs from being over earnest. That insertion of humor into the dark is like the insertion of the Gospel’s true light into the darkness of this world. Yet, as Bazan and all of the artists showed this weekend, the musician can do this in a poetic-powerful, aural-rhythmic-melodic way that a preacher never can.

Bazan’s music is an invitation to the hearer, an honest, authentic invitation to becoming part of the community. Whereas the church marquis says, “Come to church. All are welcome,” still representing a church waiting for someone to come on their own accord, Bazan comes into the midst of the hearers, creating that kind of community among a crowd as singer/songwriter Jason Anderson also aims to do in his shows.

Here’s the key to that community: Bazan has a humble heart. Behind his grizzled, overgrown beard, his recluse in a skate-punk wardrobe appearance, Bazan’s hurts and needs are laid bare for his God and the people to see. His set closed with “The Longer I Lay Here,” with a quiet, hushed country acoustic guitar solo in the middle giving time to reflect on these words, “Sweet Jesus, I need you,” and “I need a miracle someone to help me help myself.”

Thanks to Pedro the Lion.

American Folk: Bill Mallonee
I had to apologize to Bill Mallonee after the show. My album review of Dear Life, had connected some dots about a theme of drugs and addictions. I included “High…and Lonesome” in that connect-the-dots, seeing the “I’m high; yeah, I’m again” as having possible drug references. Well, some Christian singles group in Texas that Mallonee played for accused him of singing about drugs in “High…and Lonesome,” so he was quick to point out during the Festival concert that it is not a drug song. The reference is to a phrase used to describe bluegrass music. I never meant to imply Mallonee was celebrating drug use; in fact, to the contrary, I saw his music as showing the vacant hope built on drug use.

So while I told Mallonee that I had connected one too many dots about drugs on Dear Life, Mallonee’s live stories gave the back story to songs like “The Kidz on Drugz (or Life).” Mallonee worked in a drug and alcohol unit, helping kids who fighting addictions. His new album (due out in June) features the title track, “Friendly Fire,” about a man in the same hospital who freaked out after seeing Full Metal Jacket and unlocking his own Vietnam memories. Those are the kind of stories you get while sitting around Mallonee’s cowboy campfire.

Mallonee began with “Nothing Like a Train”—whose album version features harmony vocals from Julie Miller—a train song, because Mallonee said trains are a comfort zone for him, a train song making the stage a comfort zone. Singing with his hands while keeping the guitar going, I felt as if I was experiencing an early Dylan show. There’s the Dylan-esque strum technique. There’s also the poignancy of the songs which gave me the feeling that Dylan’s crowds must have felt: blown away by what I think the songs are saying, scales falling from my eyes to see the world anew.

Like a bookend of Millers, Mallonee closed the evening with “Resplendent,” produced and recorded by Julie Miller’s husband, the country Gospel stalwart, Buddy Miller. This dustbowl chronicle song has the great equalizing confession, “We are all thrift store.” Closing a Festival that had explored so much about how to speak about the faith in the arts while still giving room for discovery and mystery, “Resplendent” calls the listener to deal with questions of God’s role in difficulties, tragedies, and troubles like the dustbowl years. Mallonee sings, “How much of this was meant to be/How much the work of the devil.” There’s no answer in the song except for a turn of faith and hope in the phrase, “We’re all resplendent.” That turn of faith and hope is what all of these artists offer so well in the midst of questions, challenging words, and sweet, sweet music.

Thanks to Bill Mallonee and Fundamental Records.

FESTIVAL GIVEAWAY CONTEST! Two winners received prize packs of CDs or other swag from Festival artists/presenters. Thank you to all who entered. Watch Music Spectrum for another giveaway contest later this month!

Thanks again to Ken Heffner, Kate Bowman, and the committee who put together such a fine Festival of Faith & Music. Watch for information about 2007’s Festival at www.calvin.edu/sao.