I'll Live Again

I was perusing some by-log archives this evening, something I do occasionally, when I came across an interesting tidbit in the September 3, 2003 entry:

"...And then there’s I’ll Live Again. I was over at Tom’s last night and we were messing around with the ending. Whoa, dude, we really messed around with the ending. Maybe too crazy to make it onto the CD, I’m honestly not sure."

What we were messing around with is on the album, crazy screaming and all.

 

Today was, like, majorly hot dude! Like totally.

It was over 100 degrees I think, maybe even up to 104 if you trust a pick-up's temperature-measurement system.

I sort of liked it too, once I just abandoned myself to being hot and sweaty and dirty. It's not so bad, then. Thankfully, I wasn't in the sun most of the time.

Pop quiz: if the Bible says a king is 8 in one passage and 18 in another, is the Bible wrong?

Pandemonium

I've said this before, but I'll say it again: lots of children and craziness are delightful.

My aunt Nancy says that's why she likes to come to our house, it's noisy and interesting and happening.  At her house, with her two children, it's quiet.

the bad thing about a/c

My bedroom is upstairs.  Our air system is yet imperfect, so when the rest of the house is, say 75 degrees, our room can be 77.  So I have to keep tabs on the air-conditioner to make sure it isn't set at 82 or something.  And the bad thing is, it automatically resets to 82 at 11:00.

But a few nights ago, the a/c was pumping and it must be dry air that it pumps because my lips were drying out and then my upper lip sort of popped open--a little sore.  And it developed into a canker sore!  And now there's another one or two that have sprung.

Whenever I am beset by canker sores it gives me such an appreciation for a mouth that doesn't hurt.  Sort of like when I lose my voice or get a cold.

I read yesterday that only stupid, annoying people take their desk chairs, turn them around, and sit on them.  I do that.

I'm actually inferring that stupid and annoying people do this, but it was pretty clear that they were making fun of us!  'Sup with that?  They said it was rude.

I do it because I get so tired of sitting in one position.  I've got to move around.  Sit on my leg, prop a leg onto a knee, something.  Brent, my research partner, can attest to this I'm sure.  And anyone sitting beside me in church.

And one other thing, I think I must retract my statement about my brother singing as high as me.  We had another contest today and I wanted to key change higher, but the competition, it just wasn't there.  It was funny though, we laughed and laughed and could hardly sing.

The Need to Contribute

Nothing worse than doing a job to which you feel that you're adding nothing.  I've been tempted to feel that way lately because I'm working for my dad whenever I can, which lately has been more often because I have less to do at the college.
 
What I don't want to do is do busy work that has very little value.  He's trying to get his mill ready to start making screening pellets, and Randy and Kon are the main guys putting up augers and stuff.  And here I am coming in here and there, wanting a few hours.
 
But it's been good, mostly.  Today it was easy to see that I was contributing, which makes the job incredibly more fulfilling.
 
They're good guys to work with.

Here's my bud Tom, this is his story. 
 

I love stories that tell what happened behind the scenes. You know, stuff that most people never find out. The near catastrophes on stage, the story behind the song, how a group got its start, or what happened on that song in the studio.

For instance, on my wildly-popular and much-raved-about cover photo for Purpose, there are no lenses in my glasses. Betcha never picked up on that! But I have an even better story to tell.

AHQ recently sat down together and listened to our new CD, Purpose. One of the more attention-grabbing moments on it is the ending of I'll Live Again. I had Kon pause the CD while I told the story of how it came to be.

We recorded this project ourselves on my computer, and experimented with several ways of recording. We tried recording a few songs one vocal at a time, and I'll Live Again was one of them. The guys came in to the studio individually as it fit their schedules, and one night Byran was in and we were cutting his parts. I was running the control board while we worked on the tag of I'll Live Again, and suddenly a bit of musical inspiration struck.

"By," I said, "try this." I demonstrated the vocal lick I wanted him to do, and he laughed surprisedly at the daring genius of my idea.

 

"Are you sure?" he asked somewhat reservedly. "Is that something we'd want to put on the album?"

I assured him it was something that we wanted to at least try, experiment with. Sometimes you have to step out of your comfort zone, push the line a little, take a risk. You don't achieve wild success by playing it safe. The greater the risk, the greater the reward.

So I cued up the tag, and By launched in. We recorded several takes, and he was getting the idea. I gave him some pointers and direction as to how I thought we might achieve the best result, and he was taking them to heart.

 

Once again I hit "record." By jumped in, pouring his heart and soul passionately into the part, wailing on the high notes, moving the line just right, resolving the chord exactly as I had suggested, getting the cut-off perfect. Containing the emotions welling up inside me, I waited a few seconds, hit "stop," took off my headphones, and turned to By.

"That's it," I said.

I've often reflected since then on the subtle understatement those two words had, yet the powerful punch with which they underscored the grand nature of that momentous event.

Sometimes you just know when something huge takes place. Mountains may not have been picked up and tossed into the sea, but it is obvious to you that a watershed moment has occured, things will never be the same. "That's it."

So if you take this wonderful song:
 
I just wanna be with you.
Just want this waiting to be over.
I just wanna be with you,
And it helps to know the day is getting closer.
Every minute takes an hour,
Every inch feels like a mile.
'Til I won't have to imagine
And I'll finally get to see you smile!
 
If you take it just based on the chorus, it sounds as much like a guy yearning for his woman as a person yearning to see God.  But that's great, the double meaning.  Because marriage is a dim foreshadowing of the greatest marriage.  You know, it's like we're in a long-distance courtship with Christ right now.  We have a relationship with Him, but it's not complete, it's not face to face.  Not until heaven. 
 
When I think about the intense feelings that I've seen in others and can imagine for myself, it helps me get ahold of the wonder that our life--errr...engagement--with Christ is.
 
The post a few days ago, about roses and stars and the moon, that was inspired by a song, "Love Goes On" by David Phelps.  Just wanted to throw that in, giving credit where credit is due.
 
I went to a baseball game tonight with bro Randy, cuz Amanda, and friend Trevor.  When we were walking out, there were dudes giving away free Carl's Junior Burger coupons.  We all took one of course, but Randy saw the opportunity for a cheap date at some point (August 30, Shelley's birthday!) so he loops around and tries to act all nonchalant and blend into the crowd as someone who had just come out of the gates.  He succeeded, 'cause the guy gave him another coupon.  I laughed because I thought it was funny.