Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose.

If you were to contend in my presence that James Taylor has written some hokey songs, you'd get no protest from me. But if you were to further argue that he's never written anything awesome (and for some reason you were unpersuaded by "Fire and Rain," whose only defect that I can discern is its overfamiliarity), I think this is the song to which I'd force you to listen. It's got all the elements of good music: acoustic guitar, a catchy chorus, and a cowboy.

The Rest at the End of Ourselves

Today I've listened repeatedly to what has to be one of the most beautiful recordings I've ever heard: Mindy Smith and Sola's cover of Antje Duvekot's "Reasonland." (Before you start to feel impressed that I know such obscure singer-songwriters, let me say that I heard this song on a mix CD from Marc Tantillo. Most of my musical "finds" roll downhill from him and Josh Glidden.) If you haven't heard it, the link will take you to a free listen on Grooveshark. Art is always preferable to analysis of art, so if you have to choose between listening to the song or reading this post, listen to the song.

Here are the lyrics for the interested:

In Reasonland the emperor came down

To the water's edge and said, "I don't know where I'm bound

I've got emeralds and rubies sewn into my gown

But I am sadder than the diamonds in my crown

So will you lay me down in a fiddler's cloud

Lay me down to dream

Let my aching head be still, let me surrender to your will

Lay me down and deliver me"

The mighty king came down to the sea

Said, "I may win any battle that I please

I got a hundred-man batallion, they all fall down at my feet

But there’s a songbird who will not sing for me

So will you lay me down in a fiddler's cloud

Lay me down to dream

Let my aching head be still, let me surrender to your will

Lay me down and deliver me

I wanna fly out to your center

I wanna sink down into your gold

I wanna go down without my dagger

I wanna shed these clothes"

The preacher's wife kneeled down by the waves

Said, "For your love and salvation I have prayed

I am a tired tightrope dancer, I wanna go no more this way

Just give me something, a penny for my faith

So will you lay me down in a fiddler's cloud

Lay me down to dream

Let my aching head be still, let me surrender to your will

Lay me down and deliver me

Will you lay me down, won't you lay me down

Lay me down to dream

Let my aching head be still, let me surrender to your will

Lay me down and deliver me"

The song depicts three people at the end of themselves. The emperor has money enough to sew jewels into his clothing, but he can't buy joy. The king has military might enough to defeat all comers, but he can't coerce beauty. The preacher's wife has a reputation of piety, but she has no assurance of God's love. They have wealth, power, and religion, but at the end of themselves, all they really want is rest. In fact, they want a kind of death, a death to their bankrupt existence and a true surrender to the will of another. They're looking for rescue. They've come to the chasm where forward progress stops and only voice can travel. They pray.

Like these pilgrims, we all have to come to the end of ourselves sooner or later. What we really long for can't be bought or forced or faked. We all live east of Eden, and a sword separates us from the home of rest. All our life is striving: we strive after security, we strive after beauty, we strive after an assurance of God's love. And sooner or later, we too must kneel down by the waves and confess that we've come as far as we can, and we can't go as far as we must. We've come up short, and the distance between our ability and our longing must be made up for in grace. Rest must come as a gift, or not at all.

This is a terrifying turn of events for foreigners to the gospel, but for Christians this is the place of provision. In God's kingdom the blessing comes not to the strong and rich, but to the poor in spirit, to the seaside beggars. Grace comes to the humble. We can come to the end of ourselves without fear, because we know that the rest we long for comes not through our striving but through the grace of Christ, who took our burden so we could have his treasure. Jesus meets us at the shore and offers freely joy, beauty, and love that this world can neither offer nor plunder. The pilgrims' prayers are not in vain. For every Christian there is a laying down at the end of our labor. There's a rest at the end of ourselves.

I can relate to this.

"All of my life I've held onto this fear
These thistles and vines ensnare and entwine what flowers appear
It's the fear that I'll fall one too many times
It's the fear that His love is no better than mine

But just as I am, just as I was
Just as I will be, He loves me, he does
He showed me the day that He shed his own blood
He loves me, oh, he loves me, He does!"

-Andrew Peterson, "Just As I Am"

The Gaslight Anthem makes me want to play air guitar.

Air drums, too. At the same time. Fun for me, but not so fun for my wife trying to get me to focus on helping her cook.

That guy in the aviators is a hoot.

Thanks for your honesty.

(This is true of me. You, too.)

"My life looks good I do confess
You can ask anyone
Just don’t ask my real good friends
‘Cause they will lie to you
Or worse they’ll tell the truth
‘Cause there are things you would not believe
That travel into my mind
I swear I try and capture them
But I always set them free
It seems bad things comfort me

[Chorus]
Good Lord I am crooked deep down
Everyone is crooked deep down
Good Lord I am crooked deep down
Everyone is crooked deep down
Everyone is crooked deep down"

-Derek Webb, "Crooked Deep Down"

Good thing there's this.

38 Days from the Minefields

This is probably redundant, since everyone who reads this blog also reads Justin Taylor's...

But let me say publicly, as if there was any doubt, that I'm in love with this song.

[Kim, apparently the prerequisite for becoming an adorable elderly couple is dance lessons, so we better get those on the calendar...in 2030. Also, as long as I'm addressing you parenthetically and publicly, you should know that in the course of writing this blog post, I forgot that I had pasta on the stove and left it there way too long. Welcome to the minefield.]

Dear America, Happy Birthday.

Love,

Your favorite rock 'n roll poet.

The Light, the Heat

When I study in public places, I frequently use music to block out the conversations around me. (Basically, I want to be where people are, so I don't sleep, but I also don't want any meaningful contact with them.) Tonight while I studied for my ethics midterm, I gave two spins to Peter Gabriel's So, his 1986 masterpiece that produced six singles (impressive considering the album has only nine tracks). It revived all my admiration. No other voice approaches Gabriel's smoky howl, and few songwriters can paint such textured beauty on the canvas of rock...if that's even what this is. So is proof that the 80's weren't a total wash.

For those of you whose only exposure to "In Your Eyes" involves John Cusack and a boombox, I give you the extended version from Secret World Live. If you don't have time for the whole cut, just watch the first minute to see what the crowd does with the lighters.

Launching right in

Andrew Osenga is playing in Elmhurst tomorrow. I'm not going to see him. I would, but it just so happens that the only other Nashville-based acoustic storyteller named Andrew I like better is playing in Sugar Grove at the same time. (If you like good things, you'll be there, too.)

I doubt Andy will notice my absence...but just in case, I'll make it up to him by sharing the song that has occupied my mental down-time more than any other the past few days.

Without further ado, I give you "Swing Wide the Glimmering Gates." If you like it, you can download two free EP's on his website. If you don't, what's your problem?