Late Life Or No Life

I usually work until five or five-thirty-ish. And since my father is also my employer, he'll try to finish up early if there's somewhere I need to be in the evening.

Today (well, yesterday) I had music practice at the church at seven. It's no big deal as long as I leave home by 6.30. But we were very nearly done the roof we were shingling, so we pushed the time limit... five... five-thirty... six... None of us thought to check the time. It was six-thirty by the time we left the jobsite.

My dad drove exactly right at the edge of the limit the entire way home. It's possible to do the drive to church in fifteen minutes if you go flat-out so if I could leave home by 6.45, I would still have a chance.

We got home. I changed, washed my face, grabbed the sandwich my mother handed me, and raced back out the door to the rattletrap.

Full disclosure: At the time of my story, I was doing five kilometres over the speed limit. It wasn't intentional; it was that thing where you know you're late and can't afford to go slower than the speed limit so you keep nudging the pedal farther down until suddenly you look down at the speedometer and go, Holy cow, slow down, Flash.

I had just noticed that I was five over the limit when in the sideview mirror I saw the minivan behind me pull out to pass. At first I was gearing up for a rant to share with my persnickety CD player -- I'm late too, so you can't make that excuse. Plus I'm already speeding. You're still going faster than the limit even following me. And you're STILL going to pass me? 

The rant was choked back when I saw the car in the oncoming lane. At first it looked like the passing minivan might just make it in front of me... but, oh my, were we closing in fast. Suddenly the car was almost directly in front of me.

As much as my pride wanted to keep my speed and let the Stupid Idiot Moron in the minivan have a heart attack and be forced to move back behind me until it was actually safe, I couldn't. I slammed on the brakes, if only for the sake of the poor guy in the car. As it was, he almost had to hit the ditch to avoid a collision.

The minivan slipped in front of me without even a touch on the brakes or a signal light. Just cruised on through as if she hadn't almost killed somebody -- or herself.

I expected myself to be angry, but I found myself strangely gutted.

How can anyone do something like that? We look in the newspapers at stories of murders and rapes and stabbings and violent kidnappings and ask how anybody can do such a thing, but taking a chance on the road just because the gas pedal isn't touching the floor yet is not that far removed. Someone almost died on that road tonight. It may have been the man in the car. Or it may have been the idiot driver herself. Yes, there may be enough room to pass, but are you willing to bet your life on it? Is getting where you need to be on time really more important than your own life? What good is being on time if you arrive as a newly minted corpse -- or murderer?

That woman in the minivan owes her life to me. I don't expect her to do anything to thank me, but I do hope she realises that. She gets to see another sunrise. And I could have taken that away from her by simply not moving my foot -- or by not even seeing her in my sideview mirror.

Music Day - Writer's Block

Before the triumphant Kickstarter project...

Before the long-awaited reunion of the band that wouldn't go away...

Before Dig Here Said The Angel...

...there was Writer's Block.

Even when Dig Here was first released, many (myself included) noted similarities between that project's sweeping, moody title track and this piece of brooding atmospheric goodness tucked away on Daniel Amos frontman Terry Scott Taylor's 1998 solo project.

The most striking similarity is the bass intro. Thick and moody. String arrangements lend a stately grace to both songs. Booming drums lend some solid ground even among the swirling low-end instrumentation.

Personally I like the lyrical theme in Writer's Block. The song seems to ruminate on a general feeling of helplessness in the background of day-to-day living despite having learnt how to 'work the system' a little (I've made an art of clever demonstrations... But can't exchange it for my occupation as a fallen cleric, chief of sinners, poor in spirit...). It's a general cry for grace. And, like most of Terry Taylor's output, I like the imagery in the lyrics: I paint a thousand pictures here... On the inside of my skull... Sometimes I crack it open... Though my instruments are dull... In the bridge you get a sense for just how skilled a vocalist Terry is, when he goes from near-guttural screaming to nailing a decently high note without so much as a breath between. Not bad for a guy who was in his mid-to-late forties at the time.

Title: Writer's Block
Artist: Terry Scott Taylor
Album: John Wayne
Year: 1998
Label: KMG Records
iTunes here; YouTube here.

Sweeping, rich, deep, and of course, honest. It's everything you could really ask for in a song.

Unofficial Choreography Month - Day 10

Unofficial Choreography Month this year kind of snuck up on me. During finals at college (the second and third weeks of April) it was right at the front of my brain: Study for the next final, and then work on the choreography setlist. But then when I came back to Alberta, I forget about Unofficial Choreography Month completely. Until 11.30pm on 29 April when I suddenly realised I had no setlist and uttered a hearty and resounding "Oh crap!" Since the 30th was already booked almost solid, I didn't actually come up with a setlist until I made a rather rushed one in my head on the way to work on the morning of 1 May.

That setlist was as follows:
The Twist (live Daniel Amos version from 2011)
Come Away Reprise (Don Francisco)
Crushing Hand (Lost Dogs)

However, there was a bit of a wrinkle already. Usually, in the lead-in to a choreography month, I finish off any outstanding projects so I have a clean slate for the first of the month. But since I had completely forgotten about it, I was smack dab in the middle of a classical ballet for eleven and there was no way it was going to be done before May.

I'll tell you a little about it because I'm quite happy with how it turned out. See, the day after Loyd Boldman passed away, I was listening to Prodigal, partly in his honour/memory, and partly just because I wanted to. Specifically, I was listening to the song Neon.

Neon is more of a spoken word track than a song. Loyd's spoken vocals in the verses are a near whisper, layered lightly over a few simple keyboard measures that are repeated throughout the entire five-minute song. Then it soars up into a soft, almost ethereal chorus, a cry of the heart, genuine and yearning, with a fuzzed-out keyboard to keep things grounded. There are the sounds of urban traffic in the back of the mix, somewhere behind the vocal but weaving over and under the keyboards. And then at the end, it goes into this terrific drumming sequence -- one minute and forty five seconds' worth of hard strong steady drumming, enough time to let the listener really ponder what they've just heard.

Due to the sparse instrumentation, the spoken vocal, the subject matter, and the drumming bit at the end, this dance has 'modern ballet' written all over it. Which would be perfect, except that I pretty much loathe modern ballet -- as far as I'm concerned, if you're going to say you're doing ballet, do actual ballet, not just contemporary in pointe shoes. It looks awful and gives real ballet a terrible name. I have always wanted to choreograph Neon because the lyrics were so poetic and let's face it, the drumming section is the bomb, but I outright refuse to choreograph anything that could be taken as 'modern ballet.' If I'm choreographing ballet, I'm choreographing ballet, dang it, real ballet, that requires skill and heart and soul and sweat and strength and practice and is not just a contest to see how fast we can turn in/turn out one leg or the other.

So anyway, I'm listening to Neon and in my mind's eye I saw ballonnés. Hm... good. Anything else? Posé pirouettes. Well, that looks nice... then what? A rounde de jambe/coru section for the chorus... some corps-work for a group of nine in the second verse... and a wonderful moment of suspension just before the drumming kicks in. Within half an hour or so, possibly forty-five minutes, I had most of the dance figured out in my mind's eye. So I sketched it out on notepaper lest I forget the ideas and began notating. This is what I was still notating at the beginning of May. I spent the first full weekend finishing the notation of Neon, then I proceeded to choreograph the entire dance to Crushing Hand in basically twenty-four hours. Mind you, it was only a ballet for two, and the song itself is only two minutes long. But no matter -- it still counts as a dance done and for that I'm very grateful. It gives me quite a bit of time to work on Come Away (a ballet solo) and The Twist (ballet for two), and if I've got the time, I'd like to choreograph a fourth this month or maybe even bump it up to five.

Right now I have a few notes on Come Away, but I'm actively working on The Twist. It's over half-done. I have nearly the entire thing figured out in my head, it's just actually writing it and notating it that still need to be done. It's quite a task trying to get a bead on the characterisation for it though. What's the first dancer's mood? What are they trying to communicate? When does the tone change into a challenge? Is there still love mingled in with the implied challenge? What's the second dancer's reaction? How do I convey it? When does the mood change, and how abruptly? How can I convey it without relying too heavily on the lyric and without resorting to modern-dance-hyper-exaggerated-mime? What is the second character's mood here anyway? (The song is ambiguous in that it's never stated what the listener's reaction is, and I sort of want to keep it that way -- it makes people think if you don't spell out all the answers for them.)

I hope to get notating The Twist sometime tomorrow, maybe even finish it tomorrow or Monday. Then hopefully I can complete Come Away this week and then have some time left to write two or three more dances before the end of May.

Music Day - Reader's Digest

Where had this song been all my life? Seriously. Such sarcasm... Usually I have a hard time liking Larry Norman's stuff (his voice annoys me), but here the sarcastic delivery trumps the nasal droning voice. I mean, seriously: They brought back a big bag of rocks.
Only cost $13 billion.
Must be nice rocks.
If it hadn't been quiet hours in the dorm when I first heard this, I would have literally screamed with laughter. This is exactly my take on so much of life... also, this song sort of reminds me of DA's Through The Speakers, musically.

I should clarify though, for all you people who are gaping at the screen going "She doesn't know this album and she calls herself a Christian rock fan?" rest assured that I know this album -- my father has the vinyl -- but I don't think I'd ever actually heard it all the way through. I'm certainly familiar with The Six O'Clock News, The Great American Novel, The Outlaw, Righteous Rocker #1, and (one of my dad's favourites to quote when the topic of rock music comes up) Why Should The Devil Have All The Good Music. But for some reason, nobody talks about this half-rapped piece of dryly served rock genius:

Title: Reader's Digest
Artist: Larry Norman
Album: Only Visiting This Planet
Year: 1972
Label: MGM
iTunes here; YouTube here.

Much good. Very sarcasm. Enjoy.

A Prodigal Goes Home

Well I came into town alone
And I sang my songs for free
I was three years away from my home
And low down as a lowdown soul could be...

Most of you who care about this sort of thing will probably have heard this already, but in case you haven't, Loyd Boldman (vocals/keyboards/songwriting for the band Prodigal) passed away the evening of 22 April. He had struggled for several years with some serious health issues, but as I understand it, it was liver cancer that finally brought him to the end.

I'm not really sure how to react yet. I only found out about ten minutes before I started typing this post.

The hazard of liking music created in the '80s means that the artists who created it were generally born in the '50s or maybe the '60s. This means that unless Rick Florian or Terry Scott Taylor lives to be 150, I will probably outlive every one of my favourite musical artists. I will have to watch as they, one by one, vanish from the earth. I knew that, but I pushed the thought out of my head... This is the first loss from the era that I've experienced with this kind of immediacy. I was not yet born when Mark Heard passed away, I didn't hear of the Lost Dogs or Adam Again until long after Gene Eugene's passing (the same situation again regarding The Call and Michael Been), and it wasn't until about two years after Dana Key died that I really began to listen to DeGarmo and Key (though I'd known of the band since childhood).

Back to Mr Boldman.

I believe I've probably talked before about this man's incredible voice. He's right up there with Rick Florian as one of my favourite vocalists of all time. Loyd had a huge, soaring, booming voice that for all its strength could carry a sometimes unnerving amount of vulnerability as the lyrics required. Two of my favourite performances are Future Now (1985) and Neon (1984). The former is a truly dynamic performance, showcasing both the loud, booming, powerful Boldman as well as a strained near-whisper communicating as if from within the quiet fear and heavy unrest of the 'everyman'; the latter brings out a more ponderous, poetic, melancholy, hopeful, yearning Boldman.

I also have a deep love for the songs he wrote. He could be just sarcastic enough to make one think about why we think the way we do (I get my good times from a laugh track... I got my news from professional smiles...)*, he could cast something 'everyday' in an entirely different light (Bobby - quarter in the box... Buy another try to beat the clocks... Bobby - growing up scared... Wired to your own electric chair...)** and he could paint a vivid -- nay, full-on 3D -- picture with mere English (I quote here the entirety of the lyrics to Neon). The world always seems clearer to me when I'm listening to Prodigal's music, no matter which member wrote any given song (three of the four members of Prodigal wrote songs for the band). I am deeply grateful to Loyd for his part in it.

Perhaps the saddest thing about this is that hardly anybody knows he's gone. We have lost a great artist (I do not use the term lightly) -- and hardly anybody even knows that he's missing. This is perhaps the greatest tragedy.

But... Loyd's death is not a total tragedy. Loyd is now in the presence of God. His spirit is at home. Prodigal's final album, in 1985, was titled Just Like Real Life. The title cut was a somewhat sarcastic (though sobering) look at how we tend to watch TV and think that's how life really is: It's just like real life... just like real life... But I can't help but think that this life on earth in comparison with the presence of God is somewhat analogous to that song's point. Compared to the abundant life found in the presence of God, this life we live on earth is 'just like' real life... but not quite exactly.

But now Loyd is experiencing real life.

There's a freedom to me now has come
From giving myself away
And Jesus I know is the one who has changed it
And made it worthwhile some way...


(Song quotes (bookending): Prodigal and Prodigal (Part 2), both from the album Prodigal, 1982. * from Electric Eye, from the album of the same name, 1984. ** from Bobby, from Electric Eye, 1984.)

Music Day, Part II - The Traveler/Joy

It must be Easter -- I'm listening to Don Francisco. I don't know why... Don Francisco at Easter just feels 'right.' This is the influence of my father on my life. (Don Francisco is also one of the very few artists who appears to remember that Jesus was actually raised from the freaking dead. I have no trouble finding songs for Good Friday -- everyone has a song about the crucifixion. But precious few songs exist that attempt to capture the joy of the knowledge of the resurrection.)

Just imagine this song playing on vinyl, as it was originally heard. As is Don's method (especially on these earlier albums) he starts with a story (from the Bible: Luke chapter 24) put into song form, but then he segues the narrative song into an exuberant praise song. The second part of the song, the celebration, is the continuation of the story Don retells in the first part, but it's also very clearly coming from Don himself. You get the sense that he physically can't express more joy than he already is, but more joy most definitely exists, boiling fiercely just beneath the surface -- just listen to him cry out We have been redeemed!

Title: The Traveler/Joy
Artist: Don Francisco
Album: The Traveler
Year: 1981
Label: NewPax
iTunes here; YouTube here.
CD available at the artist's website here.

He is risen!

Music Day, Part I - The Twist

It's Good Friday.

I'm featuring two versions of today's song. Both are worth the money.

First is the original, the rock version. The song grabs and doesn't let go for nearly five minutes. It's relentless. The electric guitar swirls around, pushing and pulling, desperate, flailing... Hang on -- believe...

Title: The Twist

Artist: Swirling Eddies

Album: Zoom Daddy

Year: 1994

Label: Alarma Records

iTunes here; YouTube here.

And here is the heart-stopping live version. It's a completely stripped-down acoustic version. Normally I hate it when people do acoustic versions of their rock songs (I think this is the only one I don't hate), but the guys of DA are of such a high artistic caliber that they can pull it off. I love the slow build in this. You don't notice it unless you're specifically listening for it (and even then it sneaks up on you), but suddenly when the second chorus hits, you're knocked backwards -- when did the full instrumentation come in? The bare acoustic guitar at the beginning lays a velvet nest for Terry to thread a light, soft, barely-there vocal through that auditorium.

The other day I listened to this song literally six times in a row and every time I got chills at the three-minute mark. Every time. Even though I knew it was coming.

Title: The Twist

Artist: Daniel Amos

Album: Live In Phoenix

Year: 2011

Label: Independent release

Bandcamp here; YouTube here.

Lyrics (they're the same for both recordings).

Don't take this too lightly. I'm not going to get too evangelistic, but I will say this: you are either with Christ or you are not. There is no middle ground. There is no lukewarm. You don't have to be with Him, but then you must be fully aware of the fact that you're not. You cannot take both sides. You cannot walk the fence. I think the lyrics largely speak for themselves, so read them and ponder them. No matter which conclusion you come to regarding them, ponder them.

But know this: this was no phantom guest.

Music Day - When Everyone Wore Hats

I was raised in the shadow of the world of the good old days, in the farm country of Alberta -- close enough to the 'big city' to know what was happening in the world, but far enough from it to still have real neighbours, real community. The actual time of old-fashioned gentility had long passed by the time I was born, but the scent of it still lingered in our neighbourhood. I remember it, vaguely, but at the same time I knew it was lost. I lived in its ghost.

For me this song is at once a trip down memory lane and a yearning for a time I never knew. The world of the good old days. The melancholic grace of the electric guitar so perfectly captures the wistful tone of the lyrics.

Title: When Everyone Wore Hats
Artist: Daniel Amos
Album: Songs Of The Heart
Year: 1995
Label: Brainstorm Artists International/Frontline Records
iTunes here; YouTube here.

This song takes on a stronger meaning for me now, as I'm so far from home. I'm nearing the end of the semester, and I feel I can almost step into the small-town restaurant where my parents would sometimes take my sister and me for breakfast on Saturday mornings, as an occasional treat. I feel that would be the closest I could get -- the place where everyone really could wear hats and it wouldn't seem out of place.

This is really just an all-round beautiful song. It's five and a half minutes of that lovely DA blend of rock and melancholy and poetry. Perhaps one of their best.

Looking Forward To The 'Different'

I'm downloading my advance copy of the new album from The Choir as I type (Kickstarter backers only... release date is 15 April for those who missed the project). Hopefully that means we're getting an album review on this blog soon... along with Music Day... and general life...

It's really hard to update a blog when your days are all the same. All the same classes, the same routine, the same people, the same locale. I don't even get to go on excursions to a different town anymore. I do a lot of walking every day, but it's all within the same two blocks. I seriously live in a bubble here. But exams are this week (my first one is tomorrow afternoon) and I get back to Alberta most likely next Wednesday. And then... then I will have a life again. Until next September.

And then... then I will be rehearsing the Nutcracker with my 'home base' dance school. Then I will be able to see my siblings every day. Then I will be able to work with my dad and the rotating cast of armchair philosophers who help him out on the job when he needs it. Then I will be able to drive myself around at dusk (and other times of day) again. Then I will be able to make Daniel Amos and White Heart references and people will understand them because I've painstakingly educated them on why it's so darn funny. Then I will be able to eat nachos with cheese. Heck, then I will be able to eat whatever I want whenever I'm actually hungry, not just when the cafeteria happens to be open. Then I will be able to linger after church on Sunday because I actually know the people there and I can talk to them. Then I will be able to sleep in if I want because breakfast doesn't close at a certain time. Then I will be able to see the city again... to randomly pick a day to drive around with my family listening to music and looking at downtown storefronts and running errands and, if we're there late enough, to watch the streetlights come on across the city as if I'm in a modern-day Mary Poppins.

I do like it here, but it doesn't offer a lot of blog inspiration (or time). And speaking of time... I need to study for a history final. I shall post when my life has a little more variety again.

An Old Nemesis Returns... Also, Dancing

I suppose I should post something more than Music Day, huh? How about a brief and rather haphazard recap of my second semester of college?

Well, the semester started off with me feeling guilty and angry at myself and basically wanting to quit. I hated being here and I hated being away from my family. But then I started to develop some friendships here. Plus, dance class happened...

See, the college is just beginning to foray into dance classes. This semester, they were offering tap, jazz, and ballet. Of course, I registered for all three. This equals six hours of dance a week, in two three-hour chunks. I was perhaps more surprised than anyone that I can actually physically handle it (most days, anyway...).

Also, at the beginning of February I ended up in the emergency room because I couldn't breathe. Despite the fact that I was struggling even to talk for lack of air, I almost had to demand the prescription for the inhaler. Yay for The Great Canadian Health Care System.

The last week of February was a break week, so I went back home and took all the dancing back at the dance school there (which, by the way, I'm being allowed to rejoin when I get back to Alberta in mid-April so I'll be in The Nutcracker with them in June), however, on the day we were driving back to college, I developed a sore throat. No big deal, I thought. There had been a sore throat going around my family that week anyway. But by the time I went to bed in my dorm that night, I recognised all too well the unique ball-of-razor-blades-in-the-back-of-my-throat feeling. The next morning it was still there. And the next. And the next. In fact, it was nearly three days before I could finally get a ride into town to see a doctor so I could get the prescription for the antibiotics I knew I needed (the rattletrap remained in Alberta at the decree of my mother, so I couldn't drive myself). By that time, I was half-dead. I hadn't eaten (due to the agony of the mere act of swallowing) in four days, and I had two papers due. I managed to get the one done (in a rather thick Tylenol haze that did absolutely nothing to kill the pain), and I got an extension on the other. I managed not to miss any classes, but every second that I wasn't in class or in the cafeteria trying desperately to eat something, I was socked out on my bed. Last time I had strep throat, I was able to live a normal life (except I couldn't swallow a blessed thing), but this time it completely wiped me out. I have never been so tired in my entire life as I was for that week and a half.

So due to spending a week and a half dying of strep throat, I got behind on a 2500-word paper and memorising the entire book of Ephesians -- both due on the same day. The latter project was worth 50% of the course grade (hey, it is a Bible college...). I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say I'm bracing myself to fail two courses this semester.

Also, I have a (completely unrelated) word of advice for you all: never get shin splints. They hurt like heck. And I can't even really complain too much about shin splints because at least I can eat through the pain of shin splints... you can't eat through the pain of strep throat. But back to my word of advice: if you do get shin splints, never ever ever run on an uneven cobblestone sidewalk. Even if you're late for choir. Don't do it. I did last Wednesday and I'm still paying for it a week later.

This weekend is performing weekend around here: dance rehearsal on Friday, choir rehearsal and dance show on Saturday, choir performance on Sunday. Yesterday was the last day of dance classes... I didn't know that till I got there. I thought there was going to be one more, but alas...

It's funny how the world seems to stop when the dancing is gone. It's only temporary -- by the end of the month I'll be rehearsing Nutcracker in Alberta -- but dancing seemed different here. Maybe it was the group of people, maybe it was the fact that it was six hours a week (in Alberta I'm usually only taking maybe two and a half hours a week because that's all the courses at my level that the school offers), maybe it was the fact that I learnt so much about myself and where my weaknesses (and strengths) are as a performer, maybe it was because I was doing more than just ballet. But it was different -- I don't know if 'richer' is the right word for it because the dance school I'm at in Alberta has a very rich community as well, but here in Saskatchewan there was a different feel to the whole experience. Maybe it was learning how to work with a completely new group of people. I've been with the school back home for over five years, so we're all pretty close friends already. To have to learn to 'read' a totally new group is a bit of a challenge because you can't coast into it (I mean, not that I would ever do that back home, of course... *cough*). I don't know. Basically what I'm trying to say is the fact that it's basically over is making me immensely sad and I miss it already. A bunch of people from the dance classes here at college are either moving, graduating, or changing plans and not coming back next year, so that means that we will never again be all in the same group, dancing together. Back home everyone comes back to the school every year (you might lose one person every couple of years), but not here... dance doesn't consume most of these people like it does me. Their lives go on. But mine kind of stops when the dancing does. It's like the breath is snatched away. Maybe that's why I need to do choreography so much -- it's a way of dancing, even if it's just mentally, and I need that. I don't know why... I just do.

I will update on the choreography side of things later, when I have more time (because despite all odds, I've actually completed almost three dances this year and sketched out lots and lots of others). Right now, though, I need to go to bed, and I also have to somehow manage a 2500-word paper over this performing weekend. Then finals, but as long as I study, I should be okay. (Famous last words...)