Roast Beef is Delicious
Five years ago today I begged my wife to take me to the hospital. “Take it off!” I told the doctor. “I don’t care anymore. It hurts too much. Take it off.”
And they did.
You probably know the rest of the story. If not, let Andy Gullahorn tell you about it.
I should add, this is my remix of his song. It is far superior in every way.
You can purchase this glorious remix right here in the Rabbit Room store. CLICK HERE!
(Yes, that photo is of the actual shoe I was wearing during my accident. My friend and neighbor Christopher Williams stole it from me a few years ago, had it bronzed (yes, BRONZED) and gave it to me Tuesday night at a surprise five-year toe-amputation party thrown in my honor. The plaque reads “Andrew Osenga - Less of a body, Mower of a man”. I have good friends.)
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
Dude, if they could only Bronze your remix. It IS superior in every way. Far Superior!
Remember when Run DMC remixed Walk This Way? Or when they remixed that Bruce Springsteen song to include lines from Jerry Maguire? Or when Hooked On Classics remixed like 40 symphonic pieces and put them to a disco beat? This is better than those. In fact, this is the best remix ever. Of anything.
Speaking of Stryper…. that is THE best electric solo I’ve ever heard on a remix. *Wiping tears of laughter*
My word.
that was terrific.
“One day I will be jealous.” I’m laughing out loud in a public place. Thanks a lot!
Truth be toed, I like Gullahorn’s mix better. Har har.
That makes me want to cut my toe off and say that song’s about me… almost…. JEALOUS
The remix is toe-tally amazing. Really toe-rrific. I don’t think I could like it any mower than I do. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go get an ice pack. I think I toe-r something when I fell down laughing. (The bronzed shoe is spectacular too!)
My hero, indeed.
I fought the lawn & the lawn won.
I like the guitar rift - toe jam.
I remember the big green tennis shoe that you wore when ya’ll played in Conyers Georgia. It was a beauty.
Simply amazing. You are a meta-artist who paints with a palette of other artists.
Jealous!
um, this is awesome. i’m speechless.
Thanks for the Friday afternoon fun. I can always count on the Room for a good laugh. I agree with Mr. Peters’ assessment of the solo. Bravo!
I believe this song will have the worldwide emotional impact of Josh Grobin’s version of ‘You Raise Me Up’… or perhaps Ricky Martin’s ‘The Cup of Life” only slower… with less Spanish
We’re just glad you came through such a toe-mulch-uous time with a sense of humor…
This was classically amazingly greatness. Deserves an award. Love it! LOL!
[...] This is a classic. To hear the version of the song to which Andy G “Gully” “Hellsfury” Gullahorn refers at the end of the video, see here. [...]
This song finally makes sense.