Song of the Day: Jeremy Casella
Take a few minutes and listen to this pretty, sad, hopeful song by Jeremy Casella. It was hard to choose just one song from his newest album RCVRY, but I landed on this one because of the story it hints at. I’m intrigued by songs like this–songs that convey an emotion, paint pictures of a time and place, but don’t come right out and smack you in the face with their deeper story. Not only does it give you something to think about, it allows you to superimpose your own story into the song, and sometimes it helps you to feel less alone.
Listening to this record today reminded me all over again what a great piece of work it is, from start to finish (it’s available in the Rabbit Room store and on iTunes, not to mention Jeremy’s website.
BORN AGAIN
Words and Music by Jeremy Casella
I never thought too much about it
It didn’t seem like it should matter all those years ago
It was buried under Florida sand
And frozen under Pennsylvania snow
I was fine to leave it all undone
Until I looked in the eyes of my own son
And everything was born again…
Promises get broken
Still too young to know the difference
Oh but time would tell
What was lost in all those silent years
Uncovered in some secret fear I’ve known
Facing the past to understand
My father’s voice, my mother’s hand
And everything is born again…
What does it mean to give and live and lose and win
Then end up dying to preserve a vow you made?
Sometimes it helps to name what marks you most of all
The things that shape your deepest places
And I’m not taking sides
I just think it’s sad that’s all
That’s all
So I was having a bad day. I woke up, for no apparent reason, at 5:30 in the morning, and my brain was already two hours ahead of my body. It was the kind of day that usually lands me in front of the mirror with a mental baseball bat. But on this day, I did not have the wisdom to walk away in defense. Instead, I moved in closer for a beat down. My arms would not reach up to fight, but remained stubbornly, helplessly at my sides. My face, totally unprotected from the oncoming head blow, narrowly dodged clear at the very last second, and I closed my eyes in relief. A minute or two passed and I gained strength enough to push away from the glass and head for the safety of my computer. I put my head down and got to work, hoping to shake off the shadows, but an hour later I found myself crying through the proofread because I hated every single letter on the screen.
Here is a small excerpt from John Piper’s excellent book Don’t Waste Your Life (which you can read here for free, or buy here for a pittance) wherein he expresses thankfulness for Clive Staples Lewis and details some of the ways he has cleared a path for us all. I’ll only add that I vigorously concur, and that JP is among the very few men who rank with CSL for impact in my own life. -sam
Heaven knows why it has taken me so long to write a little something about this album, the newest EP from friend and soul sister, Julie Lee. Julie and I met several years ago at a friend’s house and found immediate ease in conversation and a unique connection; sparks of light and magic hung lightly in the air around our collision. It was one of those instances where you know for sure that the God of the Universe meant for you to meet this one particular human being out of the millions that He created. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but I like drama (the good kind only, please) and am grateful when I find it happening in my little life.
Browsing the shelves of wicked-cool used bookstore here in Nashville, McKay Books, I happened upon Kathleen Norris’s (The Cloister Walk, Dakota, Amazing Grace) latest, Acedia & Me. Though I had no idea she had a new book out, the cheap sticker price for a primo first edition (Note: you will recall from a previous post that I have a more than slight affinity for used bookstores and, especially, first editions) was an easy decision. The title itself was mildly intriguing since I was vaguely familiar with the word, “acedia”, but of which I knew very little. The subtitle, “A Marriage, Monks, and A Writer’s Life”, though hardly an enticing, round-em-up, gather-em-in slogan, is true to Ms. Norris’ midwestern style, neither flamboyant nor melodramatic.
I’ve been hearing about this children’s Bible called The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones for a year or so now, first from Ben Shive, then from a smattering of others whose opinions I respect on such matters. One night last week Jamie and I were putting our sweet Skye to bed (she’s 6 now), and we were talking to her about Christmas. I’d been gearing up to leave for tour and with the first Sunday of Advent fast approaching we wanted to find out what she thought. Jamie asked her who was born on Christmas morning, and Skye answered, “Um…Noah?”
Russ Bremeier at Christianity Today:
Is there a qualitative difference between learning a song from your Grandfather and downloading a song from iTunes, from getting a recipe online and pulling out the yellowing paper of an old, family recipe? Ken Myers answers in the affirmative, channeling C.S. Lewis when he discusses the need for thoughtful Christians to consider not only content in what we appreciate in art, but also how we receive it.
The other night my wife and I had the opportunity to see Charlie Peacock in concert. The Art*Music*Justice tour, featuring Sarah Groves, Derek Webb, Sandra McCracken, Brandon Heath and Charlie, had an off day in Kansas City. So Charlie set up a house show with just him and his piano in the upstairs art gallery of the world’s most perfect Christian bookstore, Signs of Life, in downtown Lawrence, Kansas. (No kidding. Not a Scripture mint to be found, but huge sections on art, history, classics and local writers. There’s one wall devoted to the puritans, and another to Walker Percy, Flannery O’Connor and the like. Dangerous.)
Mystery. Intrigue. Drugs, dark secrets, the decay of the will, and the transforming power of God’s love sown by a single man to a harvest of redemption.
My favorite book I’ve read this year was initially only a curiosity piece I perused while killing time in a Barnes & Noble. I had recently bought Unchristian – a book that offers an insightful look at how outsiders of the faith view the church – by David Kinnaman & Gabe Lyons, but decided I needed a mental break and started looking for something a little lighter. I’m not inclined to reach for humor books, but the cover of a book featuring a man dressed in Old Testament garb and looking earnestly heavenward with the ten commandments in one hand and a Starbucks cup in the other proved irresistible. I picked it up, thumbed through the pages and found myself laughing out loud in the aisle at Barnes & Noble – another uncharacteristic behavior for me.
The Yellow Leaves: A Miscellany, the new book from my favorite author, Frederick Buechner, was released on June 16th. I added it to my Amazon shopping cart when I first heard about it from the Proprietor and Eric Peters, after they heard Buechner read a couple excerpts during the grand opening of the Frederick Buechner Institute back in January (which also featured a concert by Michael Card, with AP opening for him).
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
The musical bumper sticker on my car during the ol’ college years would have definitely read “I’d Rather Be Listening To Acoustic Music.” Therein was my initial foray into the early careers of Square Peg artists like our own Proprietor. I found great enjoyment in the Texan college worship scene (early Crowder, Robbie Seay, Justin Barnard, anyone?). And the great unknown (acoustic) rock over which I stumbled came in the form of Jill Phillips.
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.
Andy Gullahorn is funny, but he’s also one of the more serious lyricists I’ve come to enjoy in a while. Listening to Reinventing the Wheel, you come to understand that he is more than a good songwriter. He is a craftsman. He knows what he’s doing, where he’s going, and where he’s taking his hearers.But as I said, people say Andy Gullahorn is funny. They say that, I think, because he makes them laugh. But as for me, I’m calling it nervous laughter.
Hands down, what a wonderful album! This song has always stuck out to me as well Andrew. For starters, the melody/instrumentation is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever heard. Add to it the power of the lyrics, and you have one of the most under-appreciated and under-respected musicians and songwriters in Christian music in my opinion.
thanks for posting this andrew. i wrote this song about dealing with my parent’s divorce and how it all seemed to circle back when my own son was born. my folks divorced when I was about a year old and i grew up not really knowing my father past the age of eight. i’m in my early thirties now –married with a little boy and this song is an attempt to wrap my mind around the sadness of my parents splitting up. Not being afraid to enter into that sadness and feel it. Name it and start to heal…
I wanted to take all the heartache and pain i’ve felt over my life (which always rears its head in different ways…sometimes blind anger directed at others or sometimes depression or just a rebellious spirit without a good cause) and wrap it up in all the beauty i could muster from the music. The strings do that for me here. Especially the violin melody which is sort of the main instrumental melody of the song. The acoustic guitar sort of meanders it’s way through the beginning in no specific chord sequence (like our thoughts and how random things trigger memories) until the vocal starts.
I would say this is the most honest song I have ever written. Definitely my most honest lyric. It was a good challenge to write about it and start the healing process.
thanks again for posting this andrew! love you brother.
I just put this song on a cd for some friend of mine (literally earlier today). Thanks Jeremy, for pouring heart and soul into music like this.
man thanks for you honesty. it translated very well and i love the intro. great tune Jason. I am really enjoying the song submissions. i am learning about so many song writers and musicians i have never heard of before. they bless me.
I don’t really have anything to add to the content of this post except to say that anyone reading this who hasn’t purchased “Recovery” is really, really missing out. “Darkest Night” hit me hard on the way back home from TN this weekend. I’ve got a blog post about it brewing. This CD is one of the deepest, most thought provoking, lyrically genius, musically beautiful albums I’ve ever heard. And I’m not exaggerating.
After making a daily trip to Jeremy’s myspace page to hear some of the songs on this CD, I started to realize I was being silly. So I finally ordered it from The Rabbit Room. From first listen of these songs, I knew I would own the CD, but with finite disposable income, it’s sometimes easy to postpone these purchases.
Secondarily, I bought the CD with the idea of writing a review for The Rabbit Room. But must tell you that I’m fearful that my vocabulary isn’t broad enough to aptly describe it’s wonder. I’m not sure how a recording artist creates a truly original recording without sounding derivative or ridiculously self-indulgent, but Jeremy Casella has done it. Man, has he done it.
The Proprietor’s comment nailed it for me:
I’m intrigued by songs like this–songs that convey an emotion, paint pictures of a time and place, but don’t come right out and smack you in the face with their deeper story. Not only does it give you something to think about, it allows you to superimpose your own story into the song, and sometimes it helps you to feel less alone.
I listen to songs like these over and over again because something which is somewhat latent begins to come into focus, both in the music and in my heart. In Jeremy’s case, the instrumentation plays as much a part as the lyrics. Like an addict seeking to recapure the original high, I burrow myself into the songs–chasing the high–because I love the feelings they bubble up in my heart, and that’s true whether those feelings are joyful, painful, or something in between.
It’s like I want to run as far away from numb as possible. There is so much in the world and in art that leaves me numb. Finding things that make me feel deeply remind me that I’m chasing a high that will someday be validated and honored as the Ultimate Truth. And despite my stumbles, the deeper Truth lives in me today.
The production quality of this song is magnificent. The kettle drum is an outstanding touch. It’s hard to find songs like this one where every piece has its place. Thanks for posting!
I so enjoy your website, Andrew. This is such a beautiful example of why I like to check out the postings. Thanks for sharing and thanks, Jeremy, for honestly embracing your pain and sharing it with us as well.