everything that's on my mind

I liked the music of Switchfoot in the early days, back when they appeared to be just another “Christian” band. While they always intended just to be a rock band (who happened to be made up of Christians), they ended up with a record deal that primarily placed their first three albums in the Christian music market after their label was bought out by another.

It was the band’s fourth album, 2003′s The Beautiful Letdown, that allowed them to break through to the mainstream and also solidified them as a favorite of mine. It was an outstanding album that remains one of my favorites of the decade, and an album I’ve never expected to see them surpass. Their efforts since have continued to be good, but each one failing to quite live up to the last (an admittedly hard task after the excellence of Letdown.)

Enter their new release Hello Hurricane.

The band had over 80 songs that they eventually whittled down to the 12 that made the album. I don’t know how the others stacked up to the final track list, but I’m pleased with the ones that made the cut.

The album title hints at its “facing the storms of life” thread and Foreman’s lyrics are also sprinkled with love and hope, backed by Switchfoot’s signature sound. The anthemic “Needle and Haystack Life” kicks off the album, which then tears into rockers like “Mess of Me”, “The Sound” and “Bullet Soul”, and tones it down for ballads like “Your Love Is A Song” and “Sing It Out”.

Just as was the case with Letdown, I was unable to find a disappointing song on this album. And this one is also among my favorites of the year. Certainly Switchfoot is not for everyone, and I wouldn’t call them a great band, but I’ve always loved their sound. And though Letdown has always been my favorite, this one may very well be just as good. But I’m not willing to say that. Yet.

Check out “Mess of Me” and “Bullet Soul”:

I haven’t been to McCrory, Arkansas, in over 10 years.

I was born in Wynne, Arkansas, but when I was two-and-a-half years old, my family moved 25 miles to the west, to McCrory. It was where my family stayed until well after I, the last of four children, had grown up and moved elsewhere to begin my own career and life. While I wasn’t born there and don’t live there now, McCrory is where I was raised. It is my hometown.

In 1999, my parents eventually left as well, moving a little further west to Searcy. I haven’t been back since they left.

I’ve experienced two things this year that have taken my thoughts back to my hometown and my early years. First is reconnecting via Facebook. I’ve managed to find a number of friends that I grew up with, but had lost contact with over the years. A lot of memories were resurrected as I exchanged emails with various people. I’ve really enjoyed catching up with them, and I hope they were glad to hear from me as well.

The second was this report last week on local news (KATV) regarding the success of the McCrory football team this season, particularly in light of the school having dropped football altogether for two years earlier this decade. Like reconnecting with friends on Facebook, the story stirred up a lot of great memories of Jaguar football while I was growing up and what it meant to our town.

Not unlike most small southern towns, Friday night in the fall was the highlight of the week. In the 1970′s, the McCrory Jaguars were always a force to be reckoned with no matter who was on the other side of the field. The atmosphere was always electric and the anticipation of Friday night under the lights could hardly be contained each week. My family was a traveling family, too. We went to all of the games, home and away, especially from 76-78 when my brother was on the team. My love for football was born on those Friday nights, watching the orange and black, and grew stronger each week.

There was a time in the late 70′s when I could recite the score from just about any game McCrory had played during that decade. Even then, I suppose, my inner math nerd was manifesting itself and recalling at will the scores of 80 or so games. I’ve forgotten most of them by now, but I do recall a few, particularly the losses. Perhaps they’ve stuck with me longer because they were so rare yet very painful. I remember losing a couple of heartbreaking playoff games to Earle (33-6) and Parkin (20-14 in OT, I believe), and the very disappointing 7-6 loss in the state championship game in 1979. The Jaguars were contenders every year, but were never able to bring home a state championship trophy.

The 1978 season, my brother’s senior year, was particularly difficult. The Jaguars had won around 50 straight conference games and were looking to complete another perfect regular season. I can still see Roger Currier’s field goal sailing through the uprights to secure a 15-13 win over conference foe Beebe. But that same season, the win streak would come to an end with a devastating loss to arch-rival Augusta, 15-14. I remember crying in the rain after the 33-6 playoff loss to Earle, but I don’t recall having ever felt as bad after a loss than I did after the one point loss to the Red Devils. It was a sickening feeling. And hearing the term “red devil” still conjures up negative feelings decades later.

It would get worse, though. The conference season ended with a three-way tie at the top. McCrory, Augusta and Beebe each had a single loss (Beebe had defeated Augusta to complete the circle.) Only two teams could be invited to the state playoffs. The Arkansas Activities Association would be required to make the decision based on tie-breaker rules. The conference champion spot was given to Beebe, based on number of points scored. Using the same criteria, McCrory would have received the second spot, having scored more than Augusta that season. But instead, the AAA used different criteria for that second spot – the winner of the head-to-head game. It was, in my mind, an unjust decision (and in the mind of everyone else in town as well.) But my feelings notwithstanding, McCrory would be at home when the playoffs began for the first time in my memory.

They would return the following year, and as I mentioned, they would fall just short in the 1979 title game. After another year, I left McCrory schools when an opportunity to attend private school presented itself. Jaguar football, if I remember correctly, began to decline somewhat in the years that followed, and I never really kept up with it after that.

In the fall of 1983, during my junior year, I got to experience at my new school what I never did at McCrory. We won the Class A football title that season. It was a great feeling for me as a fan and I was very happy for my friends who worked so hard to make it happen that year. But the fact remains that Friday nights in Searcy in the 80′s were simply not the same for me as they were in McCrory during the 70′s. Perhaps it’s because I was older, and my peers were now on the field instead of older guys that I viewed with the same awe as I would NFL players. Maybe it was because I was often preoccupied by trying to impress girls instead of paying as much attention to the games.

Sure, maybe those things played a role, but it was more than that. My high school was a smaller school in a larger town. There was a university across the street. It was a small part of what was going on in town, just one of many things.

In McCrory, the Jaguars were the only game in town. Everyone in town was involved in supporting the team. Everyone that was able showed up on Friday night. Everyone’s emotions soared or plummeted based on what happened on the field. And there were a myriad of wins. There was something very special about McCrory football during my elementary school years, and it was something that I couldn’t take with me to Searcy.

The news that McCrory had dropped football in 2003 and 2004 was a complete surprise to me last week when I saw KATV report. I was living out of state at the time, and it’s possible that my parents had mentioned it, but I had no recollection of it. It seems unfathomable as I recall Coach Hart and the perennial power that was McCrory football during those glory days.

Several years ago my parents gave me a picture of myself and three friends – Gary, Nelson and Keith – sitting at a Jaguar football game. Gary is now on the sideline coaching the Jaguars, and I’m thrilled to see Jaguar football having come full circle, back to the kind of special season that I remember them having year after year during my childhood. McCrory always had a winning tradition, and I hope it’s back to stay. I’m equally thrilled to see their coach sharing in that success, leading this team, hopefully, to the state title that was so elusive 30 years ago when we watched together from the bleachers.

I haven’t been to McCrory, Arkansas, in over 10 years.

But I’m looking forward to returning on Friday night. I’ve had so many memories flooding back into my mind over the past week, and I’m sure there will be more to come as I wait for Friday to arrive. I look forward to watching the orange and black win yet another playoff game and extending their undefeated season. That’s the way I remember McCrory football. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Every now and then I start reading a book and simply don’t want to stop until I’m done. Kevin Roose’s The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University was one of those books. I’ve complained recently that I’ve had trouble finding time to read, but I managed to make time after the first few pages of this book and finished it in about a week, which is a fast read for me.

In 2006, Roose was a student at Brown University in Rhode Island. He was also working as an assistant for Esquire editor and author A.J. Jacobs. Upon a visit to Jerry Falwell’s Thomas Road Baptist Church in Virginia with Jacobs, who was doing research for his book The Year Of Living Biblically, Roose met some students from Falwell’s Liberty University. They engaged in conversation for several minutes, but it was a bit awkward once they realized he was not a Christian. On his way home, he didn’t understand why it was so difficult for them to talk to one another. Sure, he speculates, maybe a liberal agnostic from Brown and a conservative Christian from Liberty aren’t supposed to have much to talk about. But, he asks, why not? Aren’t they all college students, Americans, humans? Was the “God-divide” really that difficult to span?

He decided that he would like to get to know more about this Christian culture with which he was so unfamiliar. While other students at Brown would take a semester to study abroad, he decided to study in a different culture right here at home. He decided to transfer to Liberty for the spring semester of his sophomore year in January of 2007. He basically went undercover as an evangelical Christian – even being coached by a friend who had grown up in an evangelical church in order to get himself up to speed on the language and customs he’d encounter – and spent the next few months at Liberty.

Roose grew up in a liberal Quaker home and didn’t spend any significant time in church. He knew very little about the Bible. His family was technically Christian, but it’s unlikely anyone at Liberty would see it that way. His family was alarmed and concerned when he told them of his intentions. Particularly worried were his lesbian aunt and her partner, well aware of Falwell’s anti-gay and homophobic statements over the years. He tried to assure them that he would remain unchanged during his time at Liberty, though that didn’t seem to diminish their concern for his well-being. And most of his friends just thought he was crazy.

Roose planned to write this book before he set foot on campus at Liberty, but he did not enroll to ridicule or condemn the school or it’s students. He went to Liberty to get to know what it was like to be a conservative evangelical Christian in 21st century America. He did all of the things a normal Liberty student would do – took various classes on religion, went to Bible studies and prayer meetings, went to church, including singing in the Thomas Road choir on Sundays, and even gave up his spring break to go on a mission trip to Daytona Beach.

One of the most interesting stories was his decision to suggest to the school newspaper that an article be written about the head man himself, Jerry Falwell. They thought it was a great idea, and commissioned Roose himself to write the article. It would end up being Falwell’s last print interview, as he died a short time later, during the final week of the semester.

I’ve never thought much of Falwell, having primarily seen his public persona on cable and network news shows, where he often showed an ugly side, usually condemning someone or some group, and he seemed far too political for a supposed man of God. From his time at Liberty and his time interviewing Falwell personally, Roose manages to show another side of Falwell. He was, evidently, a notorious prankster, and Roose even found him likable when he met with him. There was still the ugly side that he and others of us would still object to, but he did manage to reveal some of why so many people loved him as much as they did.

Despite being 300+ pages, the book was too short for me. Not only did I not want to put down this book, I also didn’t want it to end. The stories Roose tells and the characters he introduces us to (including himself) are compelling and I hated to say goodbye to them. You want the story to continue, to know more about where everyone is now more than two years later.

In the end, Roose did, unexpectedly, come away from Liberty a changed man. No, he did not convert to Christianity and remains agnostic. However, as I suggested earlier, Roose went to Liberty with an open mind. He found merit in meeting with a pastor on a weekly basis as a spiritual mentor of sorts, and enjoyed being prayed for by others. He even confesses that he continues to pray today, despite the unlikelihood that anyone is listening.

And then there are the friendships. Over a year after leaving Liberty, he returned to tell his friends the truth about his semester undercover, that he was not an evangelical Christian and that he’d come to Liberty with the intention of writing his book. He wasn’t sure what to expect by way of their reaction, but he had no reason to worry. They had no problem forgiving him. He was even surprised at how quickly and easily they did so, and he remains friends with many of them today. Despite all of their glaring differences, they have much more in common. The “God-divide” is not nearly as large as people on both sides sometimes make it out to be.

The Unlikely Disciple is a fascinating read, the best book I’ve read in several years, and I highly recommend it.

I can’t believe I’m posting about this album. I really can’t. I didn’t expect to hear it at all, much less be writing about it. I was planning to post about either the new Michael McDermott album from this past summer, or the newest from David Crowder Band. But instead, I felt compelled to write about Sonic Boom, the new album from KISS.

Some background: I was a rabid KISS fan when I was in fourth grade. Back in 1976, KISS was in their prime, and I loved them. I used to listen to my older brother’s 8-tracks of Alive! and Destroyer. That year at Christmas I received my first KISS 8-track of my own, Dressed To Kill, while my brother got their newest, Rock And Roll Over. The following year, I got my second – the new release Love Gun.

For me, I suppose, it was all about the gimmick. Really, that’s what KISS has always been about anyway, hasn’t it? From the beginning until today, they’ve been average musicians and average singers. Sure, they’ve written some catchy songs over the years, particularly in the seventies, but were it not for the makeup and stage show, would they have ever become “the hottest band in the land”? It seems unlikely. It’s doubtful they would have lasted into the eighties, much less still be around thirty years later as they approach retirement age.

But in the seventies, as a nine-year-old, they were happening, baby. The makeup and costumes and fire-breathing and blood-spitting – how cool was that? They even had their own army. During my fourth grade year, myself and three friends performed as KISS during indoor recess at school (sans makeup and costumes, and definitely no fire or blood.) We played KISS albums and air-guitared our way through make-believe concerts as our classmates watched. (I was Paul Stanley, by the way, and the “tour” came to an abrupt end when Paul broke a chair.)

Unfortunately, my love affair with KISS would be short-lived. Within a year after my purchase of Love Gun, a man from our church had been traveling up north, and returned home with some tragic news. Someone at a church he’d attended had tipped him off that KISS was actually an acronym for “Knights In Satan’s Service.” This, of course, was untrue, though nobody knew it at the time. He proceeded to spread this breaking news to the parents at our small church and shortly thereafter, word came down from my parents: the KISS music had to go. I was crestfallen.

I would not hear another KISS album until I was in high school, when Lick It Up was released. I’ve heard many of their albums since the dawn of the eighties, and nothing has really compared to anything from those early days. They’ve released a long list of average (at best) albums, and so many times I’ve thought that they just needed to go away.

That brings us to 2009 and Sonic Boom. As I said, I had no intention of hearing this album, but since so many albums are uploaded to YouTube these days, I took a look and yes, all of the tracks were there. So I checked it out.

I’ve listened to it a number of times now, and it sounds like it could have (and perhaps should have) been the follow-up to Love Gun. It’s probably the best album they’ve done since 1978, although I’m sure that’s debatable among the true KISS faithful. The absence of Ace and Peter is unfortunate, but still, it has a very seventies-KISS feel to it, and most of the songs sound as though they would be right at home on any KISS album from their glory days. I like it. There, I said it. It’s not great, but I like it.

Granted, it’s still average music by average musicians, and the subject matter is the same it always is (because they only write songs about a single subject.) But it is for me a nostalgic album of sorts. Though they would be very far down the list today, KISS was my first “favorite band”, and listening to this album takes me back to the mid-seventies, to my elementary school years, and the genesis of my love of rock and roll. Thirty plus years later, I still love rock and roll, and apparently, I still like a good seventies KISS album.

Here is a live version of “Modern Day Delilah” (avert your eyes from the 60-year-old man repeatedly sticking out his tongue), and “Yes I Know (Nobody’s Perfect)”: