"We're out of tune with every chord" - A Northern Chorus.
I don't know where to start in describing this past weekend, so I'm going to describe everything.
The whole week we were hoping and praying that Ava being sick wouldn't cause any problems. We even had a mild scare, as Ava threw up again during the week. But I was confident that if the Lord wanted us to do music on Sunday, Ava would get better and the rest of us would be spared. If He didn't, something would happen to redirect our plans. We only managed to get in one practice during the week, which was enough to run through two songs.
On Friday night, I gave part of the set a run-through at Bible Study. I ended up leaving after doing music to help Andrea relax after a week of dealing with sick (i.e. fussy) kids. I was a little unsure afterward because one of the songs seemed a little too high, and a couple seemed a little too low. I was particularly concerned about "The Love of God." I heard people singing a close but not correct melody at Bible Study but the melody was low enough that I couldn't sing it louder to correct them. But after discussion with Andrea, I realized that we'd have mics on Sunday so volume wouldn't really be a problem.
Later, we were sitting on the couch when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find the neighborhood security guard. He started talking about parking in the driveway and after a minute, I realized that he was trying to give me a citation. "No, you don't understand. We are the ones who complained, not the ones who are parking illegally." You see, our garage opens up into a wide driveway. The neighbors across the driveway often park in the driveway next to their condo. This makes it impossible to complete the left turn into our garage without turning it into a three-point turn. I guess he even had the office double-check to make sure we were the ones to receive the citation, not the ones requesting it. Looks like they need to come up with a new checking system, wouldn't you say?
On Saturday morning, I had band practice with Brian and Clyde. It went pretty well, and much better than our practice the Saturday before. Before practice I stopped at Burger King for breakfast. Burger King isn't normally on my list of top breakfast destinations, but after having a pleasant experience a couple Sundays earlier (one of those "I am running way too late to get to first service on time so I'll kill time and be early for second service" situations), I decided to give it another try. I should have stuck with the simple sausage biscuit, which was surprisingly delicious. Instead, I got the "Enormous Omelet" value meal. I don't know what I was thinking. It was probably something like I'm hungry. I ate the hash brown nuggets on the way to practice. They were lukewarm at best. I ate the sandwich upon arriving at Brian's. It was okay, but really not that great. I purposely tried not to think about how unhealthy it was (lots of egg, plus lots of cheese, plus bacon and sausage). The coffee was pretty gross too. Next time I think about ordering the Extremely Overrated sandwich, I'll think twice.
That afternoon, my mom came over and watched the kids so Andrea and I could practice the songs. Practice went really well and we were very excited about how things sounded. Additionally, it brought back lots of memories of when we had time to play music together. It made us really miss it. Once the kids went down for naps, Andrea and I ran an errand and then had a date at Panera Bread. I got a Sour Cherry Scone and a coffee; Andrea got some Pecan Braid thing. We also got a loaf of bread for our lunch with Lisa and Mike the next day. The cashier gave me the wrong kind of scone (because she entered the wrong kind in the cash register), but Andrea spotted this and I was able to correct the order. The coffee wasn't that great. That seems to be a trend lately. I'm by no means an expert on what is and what isn't a good cup of coffee, but I do know what I like and what I don't like. And both coffees I had on Saturday left me unsatisfied.
Saturday evening, I ran through the set to time it. Just under 20 minutes, which I figured was perfect.
Sunday morning arrived and everyone was well. Well enough, that is. My mom offered to watch the kids that morning since Ava couldn't go in the nursery and we didn't want Trevor to bring home any more sickness). As I showered, I thought I should probably bring a tuner this morning. I've been in Mainstream when things are out of tune, and it ain't pretty. True to form, I completely forgot about everything I had been thinking about once I exited the shower. I next time I thought about the tuner, I was realizing that I left if at home on the drive to church. But I figured hey...it's me. (Those in the know will recognize those words as belonging to Han Solo, proving a point Mike made in our post-church lunch that Star Wars provides quotes for everyday life. I agree.) In other words, how bad could it be? I'd still be able to tune before we played.
Once first service was over, I entered the classroom where Mainstream meets. I got out my guitar, walked over to the piano, and tried to tune my guitar to match. The piano in that room is notoriously out of tune, which is why I kind of figured a tuner wouldn't help much anyway. Unfortunately, it was pretty hard to hear my guitar over the din of various conversations filling the room. There was some problem with the monitors, too, which meant I only had about two minutes to re-tune my guitar to the piano once I could actually hear myself. Jon started the morning and then turned things over to me. I played the first measure of the intro to "Come Thou Fount" and knew that something was wrong. Specifically, I knew that the guitar and piano were not in tune with each other (nor were they in tune with themselves, actually). I stopped playing once we started the second verse and just concentrated on singing and adjusting the tuning of my guitar. If I was thinking more clearly, I would have stopped after that song and tuned correctly. Sadly, I figured my minor adjustments were sufficient. I think I was a little distracted by all the feedback coming from the monitor. (Hey sound guys, you can stop turning up the volume on the guitar; you can't hear it because I'm not playing anymore.)
I started the next song after a spoken intro along the lines of "the text of this hymn may be familiar to you but the tune is probably new." About 0.5 seconds after playing the first chord, I knew that I hadn't fixed anything with my minor adjustments. I probably made it worse. I didn't play for most of the second song; I at least had the presence of mind to realize that it sounded worse to play than to not play. I know I played for some of the third song, but I think I again stopped halfway through. I didn't even try to play on the fourth or fifth songs.
For the record, the set went like this:
"Come Thou Fount"
"The Love of God"
"Jesus Paid It All"
"It Is Well With My Soul"
"How Deep the Father's Love for Us"
I was a little frustrated, but honestly, I really enjoyed myself up there. Granted, singing lead is definitely not my specialty--I'm a hack at best. But people knew the songs (except the second one) and were singing out loudly. It was a great time of worship for me.
Of course, it didn't turn out the way I planned it.
I wish that I had remembered my tuner.
I wish that I would have stopped after the first song and tuned my guitar.
I plan on doing mostly the same set next time, if for no other reason than I want people to hear the songs the way they were supposed to sound.
But these are the kinds of things that God causes to happen for a reason. Besides, I have been playing in front of people long enough to not feel embarrassed about that kind of morning. In fact, just a few hours earlier, I was joking to Andrea that Dave J. (one of the trumpet players who is usually excellent) was probably hating Bill B. for arranging the song with such a high and difficult trumpet part. It was early in the morning and he looked like he was having the slightest bit of trouble hitting all the notes cleanly. I understand that every musician has bad days, even ones far more talented than myself. I'm also to the point in my public playing that such mistakes are more amusing than anything else. I chalk this Sunday up with the time I played a severely out of tune EBow guitar line back in the Crossroads days. Andrea and I affectionately refer to that recording as "the dying animal guitar part." That one was made worse by the fact that it was on "Above All," a song I already don't like.
All that to say I didn't really get upset until after the service. First, someone I've known for a long time thanked me for playing. He's a musician, so I explained what happened with the tuning issues, etc. He said that it wasn't that bad... that the set was a really good one and the Spirit moved through the selection of songs, and that he enjoyed worshiping. That was a huge compliment because I tend to prefer letting songs speak for themselves instead of interjecting commentary or directing people's thoughts. It's just the way I like to do things. After this, I spoke to another friend and we joked about how bad the tuning was. He suggested that if it had happened at GOC-UCLA, I could have told the students to say hi to the people sitting near them while I tuned. He said it probably wouldn't have worked in Mainstream, though. I said that was probably true.
But then someone else who will remain nameless but will henceforth be referred to as "Michael Scott" surprised me with his lack of tact. I jokingly explained what happened and said I'd bring my tuner next time. "Next time you do a new arrangement, maybe you should rehearse it first." Excuse me? I decided to brush it off, though. "Michael Scott" possesses one of those senses of humor that's kind of lacking in the humor department, plus the delivery didn't make it clear the ratio of seriousness and joking. God has been using this person to help me learn to hold my tongue, to remember that we're all sinners saved by grace, and to show grace to others instead of being offended (or bitter or angry or spiteful, all the things that come naturally). At this point, I wasn't sure what "Michael Scott" was getting at. I did hear Andrea play a few wrong notes, but not that many; certainly not as many as other people who have played piano in Mainstream (no offense to anyone). So I said "Well, we did practice, but we changed the key." What I meant is that the song is normally in E but we practiced and played it in Eb. "Well, maybe you should have practiced it first." Ha ha, okay buddy. Could it be that maybe we are not professionals and that sometimes we play the wrong notes even though we practiced? But God graciously allowed me to hold my tongue and ignore it.
I wish that was the end of the story.
Unfortunately, as I walked across the church campus on the way to the car, and for the rest of the afternoon, I mentally called "Michael Scott" quite a few spicy names that I would never say publicly. I even rehearsed in my head a different version of the conversation where my quick retort would shame him into embarrassed silence. Even today, a couple days later, I'm still depending on grace to move on and to nail my anger and pride to the cross. It's easy to be bitter and quick to anger, especially when someone's personality already gets on my nerves every single time I'm around them. (As you can see, I'm really working hard on this one. It's not easy, man.) It's much harder to let love cover sin and emulate my Savior. But it's a lesson I'd better learn, not only because it's right, but because I will still be having interaction with "Michael Scott" on a semi-regular basis. Stinkin' Clyde. (Ha ha, just kidding, it wasn't him)
Lisa and Mike (not "Michael Scott") came over for lunch, which was Andrea's version of a salad she had a Elephant Bar (an occasion I have been meaning to post about), and the bread mentioned above. It was tasty and a good time was had by all.
I don't remember much about the rest of the day so it must have been pretty uneventful.
Listening to "Fission, Fusion, and Things Made of Concrete" by the CafFiends.
I miss seeing them play. I was sitting here trying to remember if my band played any shows with them. Then I remembered the American Legion Hall in Glendale, CA. I don't remember why, but I let Dave W. use my guitar for that show. I said, "Don't break any strings because I don't have any spares." "Don't worry," he says. "I'll be careful," he says. Sure enough, my guitar came back with a broken D string. It was all good, though. I found someone to give me a string, and Dave let me borrow his Mesa/Boogie Dual Rectifier for our set. It was at that show when I moved past being simply amazed by Ed Mosqueda and started learning the drum beats he played. Or trying, anyway. In particular, I credit Ed with influencing me to use my hands more independently to create a barrage of sound (an idea further reinforced by my study of Steve Elkins' drumming).
This is a really interesting album. There are little things I'd change... I wish Jeremiah's bass was a little louder... I liked Ed's drum beat on the bridge of the demo version of "Capistrano" a lot better than the album version... and the album is a little long. I think it was a good last album but it suffers a little bit from a sameness. I love Ed's drumming and I love Po's guitar playing (does anyone still call Chris that?). The riffs are tough and pretty mathy, and the breakdowns are really powerful. They took some chances. I only wish they took a few more. I think they were really on to something. R.I.P.
And on the odd chance there's someone reading this who likes music on the slow and dreamy side of the spectrum, check out Au Revior Borealis. I've been spinning Dark Enough for Stars a lot lately and enjoy it more with each listen. Moody, ambient instrumentals are mixed in with more traditional slo-core/post-rock songs that feature just about everything I like about that genre—lazy vocals, solid but subdued drums, and dreamy guitar soundscapes full of atmosphere. Good stuff.
Nickel Creek @ the House of Blues
The Sleepy Jackson @ the Troubadour:
