Tuesday, March 30, 2010

2-4-Tuesday


Our match-up today comes from John Alberson. A couple years ago John turned me on to Neutral Milk Hotel, though I actually never really got past the track from today's Two-For.

It may seem odd that someone would cover a song that is less than a decade old... it's not like you would be adding a new genre sound or bringing a new perspective to the song (like anti-war songs from the 60s being remade now). It is surprising, however, to see how many covers have come out a mere year or two after the original (like the Byrds releasing their version of Bob Dylan's 'Mr. Tambourine Man' two weeks after Dylan released his). Listen and see if you think the re-make adds or improves anything:

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea


Matt Pond PA



Neutral Milk Hotel



Vote


Friday, March 26, 2010

Part III


8.2.2009

Dear Brother,

From my Eastward facing window here at the Parque Hotel, it is just possible to see the very top of the bell tower that is attached to the local mission. Over the last few days I have enjoyed the six block stroll, at the end of which I enter the side gate and have find a nice quiet bench in the courtyard. Taking time to pray and reflect in that peaceful corner is unlike any experience I've ever had. The trees are as old as the bricks, and reach up into the sky and lean over the wall which has been so beautifully faded by its life in the sun. This place is timeless and whenever a priest passes on the stone path I am reminded of how this place must be exactly as it was 450 years ago. It sparks the thought in my mind of how man has longed to have a relationship with God, that is a timeless pursuit. The architecture of this mission, this one spot in which I sit, may just be the closest thing man has built in his search to meet with Him.

On my walk back to the hotel I stopped at a small cafe for a cup of coffee and a slightly green banana. I was thinking that this had been a great start to the morning as I reached the corner opposite the hotel. I was about to step into the street when my heart skipped a beat. For the briefest of moments I thought I had seen a hand disappear behind the curtain of my room. Fourth floor. Corner room. Is that my room? Are my bearings off? No, there are the purple Copihues in the flowerbox. That is my room! I tried to calm myself as I walked across the street. Perhaps it was the maid. No, she hadn't ever shown up before ten o'clock, and a quick glance at my watch confirmed it was still before nine. As I approached the main lobby entrance I found myself casually pass, turning my head to the North, away from the hotel. Hopefully nobody inside had taken any notice of me. Just then I had another startle as the loud, throaty throttle of a motorcycle came around the corner where I had just crossed. A tall, skinny white guy wearing a bomber jacket and aviator sunglasses straddling the powerful machine drove by staring right at me. Something in his appearance and his look of vague recognition solidified my decision to leave at once.

Here on the coast, 300 miles away (I'll tell you exactly where when I return), yesterday feels like a surreal blur. Honestly I have no real justification for the course of action I took. I have no enemies or rational reason for believing that I am in any danger. I just felt like it was the right thing to do at that moment. Needless to say my break was clean, swift and all encompassing. The Sat phone is down a storm drain, floating somewhere below the streets of El Calafate. My backpack and laptop are probably still sitting where I left them in the suite 407. A homeless guy living under a bridge on Route 9 is wearing my clothes right now, and only the lady in the market two towns over knows that my hair wasn't bleach blond this morning...

I can imagine the course that my life might have taken had that hand not appeared at my window. I am sure that someone on the outside, looking in at my life would believe that I have just thrown away the perfect life... Every man's dream. Perhaps yesterday morning in the mission courtyard was meant to be. I can't ask the "what ifs". It does no good to live in the past, to dwell on what could have been.

What's that?

It is.

It's her father and little sister! She looks just like her too. Where's the back door?

I'll write you again soon.

Love,
Edwardo

Remember Those Who Serve

My buddy Scott lost a close friend five years ago today. Brett Hershey was a member of the Indiana National Guard when he was killed by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan, March 26, 2005. I never met Hersh but I know he had a huge impact on Scott's spiritual life and the lives of many others. A friend of both Brett and Scott has set up a website in memory of Hersh. On the site's banner is this passage from the Bible. "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." - John 15:13. Today, and everyday, take the time to pray for the men and women that serve our country and for their families. Pray for those who have lost loved ones. I am thankful for the years of service that my dad gave to our country as a Marine in Vietnam and as a chaplain in the Navy. I am thankful for my brother Nate, for his willingness to serve his country in the Air Force. And I am thankful for my brothers Thomas and David. They are graduating from Marine Corps basic training next week and will begin serving our country as well. But ultimately they serve a higher power. I find joy and comfort knowing that my brothers and father all serve a God who is faithful and just. They are willing to put themselves in harms way with the knowledge that it may one day cost them their lives. Hersh gave up his life in service for our country and he served the the One who gave His son for us. Who do you serve?

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

2-4-Tuesday

A Two-Four for today. Trying to find two songs that are actually the same but completely different can be quite a challenge. I think I have done it... you may vote, but I have already won:

Maggie's Farm



Bob Dylan





Rage Against the Machine





Vote



Friday, March 19, 2010

Part II

7.29.2009

Dear Brother,

While I await a response to the proposal I made late last night, I have decided to do a little backpacking here in the hills above El Calafate. The hotel suite is nice enough to be sure, but I can't stand sitting around waiting for an answer. I had to get out in the fresh air and clear my head.

So far the going has been pretty moderate. Although it's pushing 110 degrees, the trees provide enough shade and the native grasses grow tall and there is a sweet cool breeze sweeping across this high valley. I can now see the Lake Argentino off to the North-West. For a brief time I was down in a depression where there were no distinguishable landmarks. Fortunately I had my pocket GPS compass and was able to keep on course. Using the GPS compass reminded me of something I recently watched on the History channel. It's interesting that when you press the SAP button down here the English subtitles appear on the screen. Anyways I was fascinated to learn that throughout the course of human history there have been three perspectives on what exactly "North" means. Ever since man wandered out of sight from his/her dwelling there has been a need to plot a course home. In ancient Mesopotamia the first great explorers used the term "Nominus" (which translated is "North") which referred to a a temple on top of a mountain in their largest city. This temple became the reference point for all Mesopotamian maps. Four thousand years later the famous Norse explorer Leif Ericson discovered that the Earth is roughly a sphere. (He basically stepped off his front porch, sailed from Norway to what is present day New York, hiked to the San Fransisco area, built a catamaran, rowed to the Japanese Islands and after some more hiking eventually ended up in his own backyard. His dog was very happy to see him). When he drew up the first map of the modern world he designated the topmost point as "North". Leif was a real Ancient Mesopotamian history buff and thought it was a fitting homage to his predecessors. Nine hundred and seventy three years to the day another giant leap was made in the geographical frontier. On October 7th, 1971 the renowned Raum geographer Dr. Phillip Mattson discovered the concept of True North. Thanks to the access to newly acquired data from Space exploration, Dr. Mattson was able to prove the inaccuracy of the traditional Magnetic North method, and developed a new way of viewing North. The Dr. contended that a magnetic based compass only was accurate when the North Pole was actually visible within the horizon. The curvature of the Earth means that to arrive at North one must actually travel a arc instead of a straight line as the magnetic compass suggests. The further you moved away from the Pole the more useless the magnetic compass became. Dr. Phillip through a painstaking process was able to calculate an intricate equation to accurately determine which direction was True North from any point on the globe.

I am sorry if I bore you with my detailed account of my new found knowledge. The main reason I brought it up is that I thought you would find it interesting in lieu of the next piece of information I'm about to bestow upon you: As a citizen of the Northern hemisphere, like you I was under the impression that North is always North. No matter where you are a compass would point you in the direction up to the top of the world. Well it does, but here's where it gets a little tricky. Here on the other side of the Equator the compass spins the other direction. Just like the water in the toilet bowl flows the other way or the hurricane blows counterclockwise, the Magnetic center is at our corresponding Pole. Dr. Phillip's equation works here as well, as a means for determining a reference exactly to what is known as the South Pole. This has always been the dirty little secret of the Geographic Society, an arrogant conspiracy to demean and suppress the Southern hemisphere. Sure there is an absolute dividing line between North and South, but why is North considered "up" and South "down" or "down there"? The first images from space clearly show that South America is above North America. In our hearts I guess we've always known that we are somehow above Canadians, but we tend to ignore that inner voice that screams that our Southern neighbors are above us in a literal sense.

Well dusk is setting in and I see that I just received a text on my Sat phone from Adriana, so I'd better head back to civilization. Until next time, please give my love to everyone down there in the States.

Love,
Edwardo

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

2-4-Tuesday

In Matt's post, Thursday Thoughts (on Pop's birthday) he listed some covers that he thought would make good 2-4-Tuesday polls. One of the match-ups he suggested was The Man Who Sold the World pitting David Bowie against Nirvana. Almost half the Unplugged album from Nirvana could have been on his list, from the Vaselines to The Meat Puppets to today's selection, the grandfather of the blues, Leadbelly. So, once again, the vote is in your hands: Where Did You Sleep Last Night ?

Leadbelly





Nirvana (Unplugged)





Vote



Friday, March 12, 2010

Part I

Edwardo consented, so here is the first of four letters that he wrote to me last Summer while he was on his "business trip" in Patagonia. (I have transcribed the letter without editing of any kind, for your reading pleasure).


7.13.2009

Brother,

After three hours in the back seat of a Korean War era Jeep. Mile after mile of muddy jungle roads. Even after dusk the heat and drenching humidity is almost unbearable. Mosquitoes are swimming in the air, searching for their next meal on the back of my neck. Finally we pull into a clearing and before us stands a huge columned mansion. Kind of a cross between a Southern Plantation and an Italian villa. Floodlights glared around the perimeter. I could see armed guards milling about the grounds and even a few in the shadows on the rooftops. We came to a halt right in front of the grand main entrance, where I hopped out of the Jeep and ascended the marble stairs. As if a multi-million dollar mansion in the middle of the Ande jungle wasn't enough, this is where it started to get really strange. As I approached the rough hewn oak door I could hear a thumping, muffled music coming from deeper inside the house. I made my way towards the sound...

the time was 6 o'clock on the Swatch watch
no time to chill
got a date
can't be late
hey - the girl...

I now had walked through the great hall and to the opposite end of the house, the source of the music was in the next room. I opened one of the double doors and entered the room from which this 80's fad of a masterpiece (or is it masterpiece of a fad) was exuding. I was suddenly accosted by a nightclub blast of sound, energy, alcohol, sweat and the buzzing hum of the crowded room thick with conversation. You know how in movies, even when there's a huge mass of people, you can immediately spot the main character, as though he or she is the only person who matters in the whole wide world? It was like that. As I quickly scanned the room, our eyes locked. He was wearing a bright white suit with a jet black tie. His hair was immaculately combed over, just barely allowing the light from the mirror ball to glisten off his shiny forehead. He stood straight up, ignoring a tall blond drink of water who unaware, was still talking to him. He pushed aside three large, well built men (I assumed these were his bodyguards) and walked directly to me. The stopped inches in front of me and stretching out his arms, "Edwardo!" he said. "Thank you so much for coming! So sorry about the crudeness and secrecy of the invitation". He then wrapped his stubby arms around me in a bear-like embrace.

"Mr President." I said, hardly knowing what I should say next... "I've never seen anyplace quite like this before". He laughed, still hugging me (for what now seemed like an awkwardly long time). "This is just a little home away from home. Just a gathering of intimate friends", he told me. Finally he released me from his grasp and turned to face the crowd. These are mostly local supporters from Argentina, Chile and the surrounding region". Then he pointed to a table in the corner off to our left, full of scantily clad women surrounding a light-grayish haired man, whose back was to us. "Even one of your former leaders has been so kind as to grace us with his presence this evening"... Just then one of his bodyguards approached, and with a glance he signalled the President. "Please excuse me Edwardo. Help yourself to anything and everything. I shall return". And with that he disappeared into the fray. I hadn't noticed her approach, but there at my side now stood the tall blond who had earlier been so rudely neglected. "Where do you know Hugo from?" she asked. "We've actually never met before. He's just a big fan of my blog" I casually responded. For some odd reason at that moment I once again became aware of the music that was throbbing in the dance hall.

it's driving me out of my mind
that's why its hard for me to find
can't get it outta my head
miss her, kiss her, love her
...

"What in the world!" I exclaimed. "Is the DJ on a break or something?" Surprised at the lack of variety, or taste, or maybe just the sheer coincidence of the music selection.

"Oh no" said the tall brooding blond at my side... "Mr. Chavez is a huge Bel Biv Devoe fan".

The Jeep ride back to Mendoza was as enjoyable as the trip in. I fell asleep. I guess the lesson I'm going to take away from this little experience is that I should always be wary of the fame that blogging can bring. I can control what I write, but unfortunately I can't control who reads it.


Love,
Edwardo



P.S.
This isn't a sketch of the mansion in the letter, it's just a doodle that so happened to be on this page when I was finishing up your letter. And also, say "hi" to everyone there Stateside for me.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

If it ain't broke...


Not that anyone cares, but I missed the two-for-tuesday this week, sorry about that. I did want to make an open-ended post with this question (riffing off of Matt's suggestions for 2-4s):

Question


"While it is possible, sometimes, to find a cover that is better than or different enough from the original to be good, what are songs that should NEVER be covered (even if they have been)?"


Some suggestions


  • Bill Withers - Ain't No Sunshine (see list of covers)
  • Billy Joel - She's Always a Woman (a couple covers)
  • Pink Floyd (everything). There are just some bands whose music should never be messed with.
  • Bruce Springsteen - The River (as far as I know, this song has never been re-recorded by a cover artist --- let's keep it that way).


So, what would be on your list?

Monday, March 08, 2010

May

Here are my plans for the day after Nate and Katie's wedding...


"We've got an announcement..."

Friday, March 05, 2010

William's Latest Compostition

William Crum March 5, 2010
Seikei’s Journey

The Ghost in the Tokaido Inn by Dorothy and Thomas Hoobler tells the story of a young Japanese boy who yearns to be a samurai. Because his father is a tea merchant, Seikei thinks there is no hope of his ever becoming a samurai. While staying at the Tokaido Inn, Seikei wakes up at night and sees a ghost. However, he finds out that he actually witnessed a robbery and becomes involved in helping to solve the crime. The thief, an actor named Tomomi, has a good reason for stealing a jewel which originally belonged to his family. Tomomi, a former samurai, has great sword fighting, acting, and acrobatic skills. Surprisingly, he and Seikei become friends. Tomomi finally gets revenge on the man who stole his family’s honor and jewel. But, Seikei is the main character of this story. The loyalty, bravery, and respect found in Seikei lure you into the story of his journey to become a true samurai.
The loyalty of Seikei may be the most important element in this story of a merchant’s young son. Seikei’s journey begins when a ruby is stolen from the daimyo, a local nobleman, and is found in the room of a girl named Michiko, but Seikei saw the real thief and truthfully tells the judge, whose name is Ooka, what he has seen. This was loyal because Seikei rescued Michiko from trouble. Seikei soon becomes the judge’s assistant. Seikei proves his brilliant loyalty to Judge Ooka by doing everything in his power to safely retrieve a magnificent wooden sword, which was given to him by the judge, after it was taken from him in a fight with Tomomi. As the book, continues Seikei is told by the judge to stay with Tomomi whose real name is Genji. Unexpectedly, he finds out that Genji is a Karishitan (Christian). This is against the law. Seikei, loyal to Genji, does not turn him in. Because of the many things Seikei does for his friends, he shows the passion to be a loyal samurai.
Since it is extremely important to a samurai to be fearless, courageous, and brave, this is exactly how Seikei acts. He is dauntless. First, Seikei fearlessly follows what he thinks is a jinkininki even though he believes the jinkininki, which is a ghost that eats people, might devour him. Secondly, when Judge Ooka found a dark, creepy tunnel in the ground into which he thought the criminal had escaped, Seikei bravely crawled down into the pitch-black hole. Convinced that a samurai would do the same thing in his position, Seikei courageously continued. Finally, Seikei valiantly walks to the Shogun’s palace by himself not knowing what will happen. Unmistakably, Seikei not only knows a lot about samurai courage, but acts bravely and fearlessly himself.
Seikei is polite and respectful. From the beginning of the story to the end, this young man, although only a merchant’s son, shows respect to Tomomi and the Judge even though he may not understand their requests. Even when Seikei did things or knew things better than others, he never bragged. At one point in the story, Seikei and Genji have a sword fight. Seikei sees Genji’s next move, which is a blow to the head; skillfully dodges it; and knocks him down. Although it is just a play fight, Seikei does not boast about defeating the master. Back at the Shogun’s magnificent palace we observe how polite Seikei is. The Shogun is hosting a tea ceremony and brags about his tea. Because Seikei’s father is a tea merchant, Seikei has tasted better tea but says nothing. Seikei shows the politeness and respect of a samurai.
Although Seikei was not born into the samurai class, he had the character and heart of a true samurai. Seikei works hard to become loyal, brave, and respectful. These characteristics should be true of Christians, too. Just as Seikei strives to be a samurai, we should strive to be godly. Loyalty to Jesus, bravery in sharing one’s faith, and respect for others are the character and heart of a true Christian.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

2-4-Tuesday

Today we're listening to something a little different, so bear with me. The music Pop listened to while I was growing up has had a big impact on the kinds of music I listen to today. There was always a lot of classical music in the house (especially in St. Louis with 99.1 KFOU, Classic 99). So today we get a 2-4 featuring a 'classic' performance and a jazz variation on Vivaldi's first movement from The Four Seasons (Spring I. Allegro); the vote is up to you:

Classical - London Chamber Orchestra, Christopher Warren-Green





Jazz - The Jacques Loussier Trio





Vote



Monday, March 01, 2010

Broken Bells


Brian Burton (Danger Mouse from Gnarls Barkly) and James Mercer (Shins front man) team up to make the coolest record so far this year... sorry Ke$ha. Listen to the entire album on NPR.