They'll look at us…

probably rushing in at the last moment, and we’ll look at them. We both know they have to do this before they roll the cots out for the night, Plug in, sound check, ready to go.

It’s amazing how young some of them are. What could you have possibly done to get cut loose so quickly? The old guys will be there too, a trail of lost people and jobs and homes behind them. Wine in the morning Jesus at night before bed. While there’s breath there’s hope, even if the breath smells like Night Train.

Our little band is part of the parade too. The preachers, the singers, the good, the bad, the ugly, the fervent, the shouters, and the people who pretend we know what its like to have to listen to us. Every Wednesday, just before bed, we descend on the Gospel Mission to have our say. Treasures in clay vessels all of us with a captive audience that just wants to go to bed.

Yet no matter how badly we do it, or how well, it still is true, even if we look stupid up there. Jesus saves. Whether we have a home tonight or not. Whether we’ve bounced along the surface of life or sunk through the waters. Regardless of which side of the pulpit we stand. Jesus saves.

We know going in that we’ll mostly be ignored. We understand and we’ll try not to stink the place up too bad before the folks go to bed. Yet as we play and our lead singer says a few words understand that we, I suppose, have better things to do as well except for the fact that we know one thing. Jesus saves.Even if you’re the skinny guy with the pink hair or the man who hasn’t much time yet before the liver just plain quits or the guy up on stage with the bass who somehow got out of it all before the worst could happen.

Jesus saves, and if just one  figures that out tonight, or even starts to figure it out, we’ll play until our fingers bleed. It, and they, are worth it.

Music Note…

I’ll be with “Shoulder to the Plow” this coming Saturday from 9 a.m. to noon at the St. Paul (Minnesota) Farmer’s Market. Drop in if you’d like for the music and a great farmer’s market.

FYI…

I’ll be performing at a “jam” this Sunday evening at 5:30 p.m. in the Caribou Coffee on Highway 694 and Rice Street in Roseville, Minnesota.

A “jam” is an informal music show where the gathered musicians have no set list of songs, often no written music at all, and perform tunes chosen by the members of the group. Originally a product of jazz culture other forms of music have adopted the idea of “jamming” and the results can be quite enjoyable. This “jam” often has musicians of substantial talent, especially the guitarists, whose ability to make music on the fly can make for an entertaining show. My job is to create the groove on the low end and let them shine.

Drop in if you can.

More on the US and Gibson Guitars…

Mr. Juszkiewicz (CEO of Gibson) says that the government of the country where the rosewood comes from certified it for export, and Gibson jumps through rather elaborate hoops before it buys the wood after it is imported to the U.S. The Lacey Act, which puts American importers of exotic woods at risk, is discussed here. One of the ironies, as you might expect, is that America is a trivial importer of rosewood from Madagascar and India. Ninety-five percent of it goes to China, where it is used to make luxury items like $800,000 beds. So putting Gibson out of business isn’t going to do a whole lot for the forests of Madagascar.

It also seems that the Martin Guitar Company, which uses the same kinds of woods as Gibson in its guitars hasn’t been raided. Nothing about Fender, MusicMan, etc.. This is a strange case. Obscure law, federal raid, property seized. No indication of any crimes committed. One government certifies the product for export and another, ours, decides that this wasn’t good enough. Of all the things the Federal government should be doing why are they spending their time and effort on this? Is there some need for us to be protected from the blight of vintage guitar owners whose decades old instruments may or may not be in violation of another country’s, or our’s, recent law? What benefit is there to putting a venerable American company, Gibson, and its worker’s jobs, in jeopardy for such a bizarre thing? This just doesn’t pass the smell test.

Anyway, ignore the comments section and glean what you can from the article. And if you have a vintage instrument be prepared to show your papers when they come knocking on your door.

The Feds Environmental Police…

go after Gibson Guitars. Apparently the Feds have decided to go after instrument makers and potentially individual owners of instruments to make sure the wood is PC. This includes, apparently, vintage instruments made long before these regulations were passed.

…The tangled intersection of international laws is enforced through a thicket of paperwork. Recent revisions to 1900’s Lacey Act require that anyone crossing the U.S. border declare every bit of flora or fauna being brought into the country. One is under “strict liability” to fill out the paperwork—and without any mistakes.

It’s not enough to know that the body of your old guitar is made of spruce and maple: What’s the bridge made of? If it’s ebony, do you have the paperwork to show when and where that wood was harvested and when and where it was made into a bridge? Is the nut holding the strings at the guitar’s headstock bone, or could it be ivory? “Even if you have no knowledge—despite Herculean efforts to obtain it—that some piece of your guitar, no matter how small, was obtained illegally, you lose your guitar forever,” Prof. Thomas has written. “Oh, and you’ll be fined $250 for that false (or missing) information in your Lacey Act Import Declaration.”

Rock bands…

shouldn’t sell (out) wine. In the case of AC/DC its kind of morbid as their first prominent lead singer, Bon Scott, died from the affects of alcohol. Maybe it just goes to show that, in the end, its all about the money.

The story…

isn’t always what you think it is. Case in point.

I played a show on July 14 and was promised payment for the work. The check didn’t and hasn’t come. Emails went back and forth with the organizer of the group, no results. More frustrated emails were sent. Still nothing. I was starting to feel like I had been played. I was simmering.

Turns out the leader of the band had delegated the money work to another person who was having financial difficulties and kept the check. I don’t like what happened at all, but I understand that these are harder times and the temptations are strong. He’s apologized and we’re on the way to figuring these things out.

I wish I would have known. Everything. Sooner rather than later. It would have been much easier. Yet “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…” is the norm, not the exception. He was just too proud to admit his financial difficulties and I  thought the worst first and about forgiveness later.

Live and learn, and, if you can, get paid before the show.