This last weekend was loaded. On Friday I had the privilege of playing a house concert and carol sing up in Mora, MN. In a few weeks I’ll be up there again to play at Calvary Lutheran – January 5th, be there! In Mora someone brought a copy of their boy.girl CD along. Who’s boy.girl? Read on. On Saturday Kjellgren and I went to see Tangled Blue (Joel & Aimee Pakan) at the new Dreamcoat Coffee and on Sunday River’s Voice (Rich & Trish Bruxfoort Colligan) played at Humble Walk. Then on Tuesday I got a flier in the mail for Outlaw Ranch in South Dakota and saw that in July and August all three of us are artists in residence. We went from three consecutive winter days in MN to three consecutive summer weeks in the Black Hills. And this got me thinking.
I’ve known Joel since 1995. We didn’t know each other well then, but we knew each other. He was a senior at Concordia and I was a freshman. He was (and remains) much cooler then I. He already had a band then that played real gigs and he was into fringy Christian rock like VOL and Hokus Pick and the Lost Dogs and Mike Knott’s 20 different monikers. He introduced me to Steve Knight who subsequently introduced me to Russel Munson. I believe Joel was at the Pierce Pettis show where I met Blaine Howard. Blaine and Russel were in the band Trace. A few years later there were looking for a bass player and I suggested Micah Taylor and the foursome (Leah Howard being #4) put out what remains one of the most beautiful albums I’ve ever heard. Not to mention last years Becoming Liturgy album was recorded at Russel’s studio, Small Circus. Back in 1999 Joel recorded one of my first bands, boy.girl featuring Rachel Kurtz (girl, now Kurtz May), Jason DeBoer-Moran (then just Moran) and Rev. Matt Mass (who at the time was, yes, part of the priesthood of all believers, but no, not ordained.) Rachel and I still have a few copies of that disc, but they’re getting rare and you probably can’t afford them, so we’ll just hold on to them for now. Who am I kidding? We’re independent musicians, name your price.
A few years down the road Joel moved up in the world when Aimee said yes and the two of them have been a full time musical duo ever since, touring as Tangled Blue. (There’s other stuff in there, but I’m not their biographer – this is just a tangential reflection on my relationship with Tangled Blue.) Two years ago I played one of their house concerts and last year I got to add slide guitar to a version of Amazing Grace they did. On Saturday I was reminded not only how incredibly talented this duo is, but how fortunate I am to call them friends.
I’ve known Rich since 1997. But he doesn’t remember. And that’s fair enough. He was recording an album for Youth Encounter and my teammate Tracy and I came in and sang three phrases on one song. Or more accurately, one phrase three times: ‘come alive, come alive, come alive.’ It took about 15 seconds. I wouldn’t remember me either. Since then we’ve been in each other’s peripheral circle through things like Outlaw Ranch and friends like Jonathan Rundman, but we’d never really officially met. So it was a great honor to meet Rich and Trish Sunday night face to face, to listen to a bit of their story and hear a bit of their music. And throwing food and pouring water into their son’s mouth from about 5 feet above him? That was just a bonus. (The other bonus of the night was that Jason and Rachel were at church and I got to tell them about the couple with the boy.girl CD in Mora.) Again though, what talent! Afterwards Rich and I swapped CD’s and I’ve been putting them in one after the other, getting caught up on all their great music, and I’m just at the tip of it – those guys are prolific.
I’m not a morning person so waking up at 4:45 this morning was not on purpose, nor was it welcome. But what kept me up was thinking about how amazing these relationships are. How deeply connected we become over time. I get to be part of this amazing musical community and it keeps growing.
Later this morning I’ll record the final touches for my next album. Justin and Angie Rimbo are coming over to do a little singing, bassing, and xylophoning. Then I’ll need one last harmony by Erin Deboer Moran (putting the Deboer in Deboer Moran since 2005) and then it’s off to mixing. Another album, another milestone along a not-so-independent Lutheran singer/songwriter’s journey to the… well wherever it takes me.
Our Vanagon is changing our life. This isn’t actually ours, but it’s identical to the one we own that is resting in our garage. Hopefully not in a final resting sort of way. I had no idea when we bought this thing how much koolaid we were sipping into. It’s a Vanagon cult out there people! Nor did we do much homework on this thing. It was cheap, we had savings (note use of past tense), we had dreams, it was time! And now? Our dreams are changing. And yes, this Vanagon is changing our life. (I’m using the singular in the sense of the life of our family – just in case you were wondering.)
I’m an independent type that relies heavily on community. My interests fit that well. Writing songs is solo – performing songs is communal. Working on bikes -for me- is solo. Riding bikes is communal. Baking bread, solo. Braking bread, communal. I think there is the same sort of independent/communal dichotomy to the Vanagon as well. I was hoping to jump into the communal aspect without the independent time. But it looks like the new dream is learning how to replace head gaskets. Or more accurately, learning what and where the head gasket is. Then we’ll dream of replacing it. Same with CV joints and starters. It might get into some body repair too.
Admittedly I’m bummed that it’s going to take this much time and energy to get out there and join the community. As much as I love (and this is not sarcasm) riding down sloppy snowy streets with my guitar on my xtracyle, today is one of those days a second car would be nice.
So we spend some time alone in the garage, or with a notebook and pen, or flour salt oil sugar yeast, or in bed, and we work on these dreams and join the community.
On second thought maybe its not such a dichotomy – maybe there’s more overlap then I realize. Maybe the community of vanagon forums will allow my independence to thrive. Just as listeners and neighbors and family allow me to write, tinker, and bake. Dichotomy was the wrong word. I’m not so sure you can separate the individual from the community that succinctly. It’s way more messy than that.
Coincidentally, based on the Vanagon community’s input, so is replacing head gaskets.
My buddy Rev. Matt Skolnik made this video as part of his church’s work for employment justice. I’m honored that he used Gather Us In and Barefeet in the soundtrack.
Last week was so beautiful last week I picked Lydia up from school with her bike on the back of my bike. She got a ton of smiles and thumbs and what not from her teachers and friends and then we took off for the library and home. If it were up to her (and my schedule for that matter) we’d do this everyday. And here’s a school who felt the same way:
Maybe this spring we’ll get this going in our neighborhood. It could be great. It could be one more light at the end of yet another Minnesota winter.
Oh yes, I had pneumonia, went on tour, came back and almost made a writing deadline. And as if that were not enough, I rejoined facebook.
Which is like crack.
Now you’re probably wondering, “Nate does crack?” Well, no. Never have never will. Nor am I suggesting, “If you like facebook, you’ll love Crack Cocaine!” I’m just saying FB, as the locals call it, is addictive. It’s like reality TV. Really stupid, but really hard to turn off. You scroll down the page in hopes of just one funny status update. Or maybe one friend (and in FB I use the term loosely) did something flippin’ cool. But mostly it’s totally useless information. Oh, you’re kids are napping good? You had a good lunch? That’s the stuff I used to rip on facebook for.
But now I’ll be the first to admit, I keep checking. I never thought I’d say this – I kind of like it. I like knowing when someone had a great turkey sandwich. I’m happy for a friend with well rested kids. I’m (swallow pride here) really enjoying facebook.
So that’s where I’ve been.
Sheesh! With this kind of cultural embrace it’s only a matter of time till I start liking Project Runway and Biggest Loser. I can see it now! Tune in for next week’s blog, from Glevil to Gleek.
Saturday night Jodi turned on the heat. Like most Minnesotans, seeing how long you can go without kicking on the furnace is always a fun game. My friend Matt usually made it to November. Of course if you visited him in October you had to keep your coat on for most of the visit, but thats beside the point. He made it to November.
Sunday morning I had to check what size filter our furnace has so I went to the basement and opened up the doo hicky where the filter lives and as I was doing it I could hear a high pitched whine and noticed something smelled hot. Then I realized that although Jodi had turned on the heat the previous night I had never actually heard the furnace kick in. So I opened up another doo hicky and exposed what I later learned is an induction motor. I touched it. Yes, it was way stinking hot and no it was not motoring. I’m no HVAC specialist but something told me this was bad. I turned off the power to the furnace. Like any Man worth his weight in Fleet Farm Assorted Nuts and I knew what the first step was. I squirted it with WD-40 and turned the power back on. No luck.
Now things got more interesting. I decided to take the motor off. This would’ve been easier if I hadn’t gotten WD40 all over my hands (still not sure how that happened). First I removed the nuts that mount the motor to the furnace and then the screws that attach it to the exhaust pipe thing which blows all the bad Carbon Monoxide and what not straight to the chimney and up and out into the ozone. It’s important to know that the fan blades attached to this motor have a direct line to the outside world. Why? Because as I pulled the motor off of the furnace and spun it around the first thing I saw was a wing.
Yeah, I kind of thought I was going to puke too.
Apparently this bird had flown down and made itself a little home in the blower. And thats why the blower couldn’t spin. I won’t go into the details of how I got it out but I will tell you that it was an unfortunate day to have chicken for lunch.
You know the dream where you show up at school only to realize you’ve forgotten to get dressed? I’m not sure if anybody actually has that dream, or if it’s just one of those dreams people can relate too because of it’s general sucky nature.
My wife (the Reverend) has the clergy version. She dreams she shows up as a guest preacher only to realize she can’t get her sermon to print and the whole congregation is waiting for her to get the service started.
It’s the one thing you need and it’s the only thing you don’t have.
As a working musician I shlep around a lot of gear. Sometimes guitars are in stands in the basement, sometimes an amp is at a friends house, most of the time stuff is in its case on a shelf. I try to keep an organized work space. Try.
This morning I got back from the bus stop and had 10 minutes to get ready for two preschool music classes. I was contemplating bringing the banjo along today because I like the kids to experience different instruments, plus we’ve been singing ‘I’ve been working on the railroad’ which has the line ‘strummin’ on the old banjo.’ So I got it out and tuned it and plucked it a bit to see if I could pull it off. Then I looked at my watch and realized I was running a bit late. I grabbed my guitar case, put my banjo in it’s case loaded them up on my xtracycle and took off.
My first music class is for 6 super young kids so I just brought the guitar in. It sounds funny, but I’ve found that banjos can be a bit intimidating for the under 3 crowd. We sat down in our circle, sang our welcome song and then one of the kids helped me unbuckle the guitar case and open it up.
It was empty. The one thing I needed was the only thing I didn’t have. The guitar was at home. In a stand. In my basement.
And me? I was living the dream.
Posted: October 12th, 2010
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I’m working on the next album right now and one of the songs you’ll get to hear on there is Ephemera – which I’ve played a handful of times in the last year as I stubbornly cling to my old fashioned ways of pencil and paper, and yes, blogs.
I was posting some bikes on craig’s list today and in looking up some old schwinn info I came across this.
http://cardiffbikeshop.com/ephemera/default.htm
Ephemera. Get ready for a new album. And no Dave, it won’t be ready by Christmas.
“I write the psalms that make the whole world sing”
-David
The funny thing about “I Write the Songs (that make the whole world sing)” is that Barry Manilow didn’t even write it. Bruce Johnston did. Why do I know that? Because at one point in my life I owned two copies of this beauty:
Both copies were in church library free boxes. I think they were purchased for the title and once they say the author they had second thoughts. Their loss, my gain.
“Friends are friends forever, unless the lord unfriends them”
I think that’s how Michael W. Smith would write Friends if he were writing it today. Because now we have those kind of options.
Last week I signed up on the Facebook. My friends (real, not virtual) were all surprised given how often I’ve ripped on it in the last few years. But I thought hey, this is just the way it is, if you can’t beat ’em join ’em. So I joined.
