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
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.
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.