Flanfire

I was bored, so I picked up a USA Today newspaper and turned to the Life section, and there — in all of its irradiant glory, were the paper’s airplay charts (adjacent to ads for Sting, Taylor Swift, Creed, and Breaking Benjamin).  I scanned a dozen charts — who ARE these people?  More importantly, why would ANY Texan who likes real live music spend a dime on all but a very few of these hotshots?

Which is not to say any of them are awful, or even boring, or even bad?  Some in fact are quite talented, and a few are even TEXANS!  Maybe the real problem is that USA Today has no category for the kind of music we listen to every day.  Let’s see (I will toss “Urban” which is an odd name, since Keith URBAN is not listed there; I will toss “Latin” and and “Rhythmic,” which means What?  SO let’s try
Top 40.”  Miley Cyrus — she’s no Leann Rimes.  Lady Gaga???  [Sounds like Pat Benatar to me.]  Britney Spears – what is WRONG with our country?  Kelly Clarkson — at least she’s a Texas girl.  The Kings of Leon make the chart, at least.

Peering at “Country” — Miranda Lambert — and a lot of people who can actually sing — and then there’s Taylor Swift (could this be a stage name?).  Eye candy, nowhere near as good as Sunny Sweeny, and yet rich and famous and all over the tabloids.  Carrie Underwood?  Another painted doll.  Colbie Caillat — now here’s a real girl, but “Falling for You” is just boring and yet it is a Top 40 hit — but not enough spins for her to make the “Country” chart.  The surprise – Lady Antebellum, with lyrics that actually sound real.   

Now I DID notice Matt Nathanson (for whom my pal John Thomasson plays bass) is up to No. 4 on the “Adult Contemporary” charts, along with Rob Thomas, Pink, and Daughtry (wait — was he not on American Simonized?)  And, oh yeah, Breaking Benjamin with a Youtube that provides the lyrics to their songs (others are doing this as well) — now that is a great marketing idea.  Yeah — there are lots of familiar names in “Adult Rock,” “Alternative,” and even “Active Rock” — but why, pray tell, is there no “Indie Rock” category in this esteemed newspaper?   Anyhow, it is clear to me that the best music — the best real American music — is not even on their radar.  Let’s face it — corporate music today is all about the superficial, the trivial — whether bubblegum or bawdy.

And that leads me to my topic today.  What was it that Townes said:  “Maybe she just has to sing for the sake of the song, Who do I think that I am to decide that she’s wrong?”  The music we love here in Austin and roundabout is music with lyrics that ring true.  As one friend responded to my request for their favorite Texas songwriters, “There are just too many to name.”  And yet almost none of them are on the radio or on the “charts.”

I mean, would Joni Mitchell (for example) ever make today’s “top 40″ or even the “adult contemporary” charts?  Probably not – as I can hardly see Joni writhing around on “America’s Got Talent.”  The soul of this great nation is wholly ignored by the moneychangers in our temples — our halls of Congress, state houses, city halls, and yes even our civic and religious institutions — but notably, too, our houses of music and art and even dance.

Maybe corporate radio is right.  Maybe Americans cannot take the truth!  Maybe we have become so morally bankrupt that we do not want to hear what real people’s lives are all about?  In this age of plastic (surgery and credit cards and more), maybe we cannot be confronted with our own humanity. 

Here is what I see.  Lots of places are beginning to look a little like Austin, lots of people everywhere are writing songs from the heart, songs that Townes and Guy Clark and our other heroes would listen to gladly.  Over and over again, too, I hear that Austin is a city where musicians and artists are supportive of each other’s work, where there is a genuine love of discovery of each other’s humanity and an encouraging ear and heart that enables the peeling off of layers of protective phoniness that we had wrapped ourselves in where we used to live.

I was reminded of this the other day reading a passage from Henri Nouwen, the Dutch priest who spent his most notable years in a community in Toronto that welcomed people with disabilities.  In his little book, Turn My Mourning into Dancing: Finding Hope in Hard Times, Nouwen writes:

It is our great illusion that life is a property to be owned or grasped, that people can be managed or manipulated…. This illusion sometimes puts us on the road to a frantic search for selfhood and self-fulfillment.  We want to be “true to ourselves” — or at least to our self-made image. 

Nouwen goes on to state that, “In the face of a great pain or inescapable grief, we realize how little we control our lives, how feebly our protests change reality…. Perhaps our need to hold life loosely is no more evident that in our daily relationships.  Loving someone means allowing the other person to respond in ways you have no control over.”  And then he hits us in the breadbasket.  In a section entitled, “Moving Out of the House of Fear,” Nouwen says that, “The suffering of affluent countries such as ours — our anxiousness and loneliness — comes as a hidden consequence of our ignoring those who are less fortunate.  It accompanies our unjust extravagance.” 

And it is that very act — that “leaving our possessiveness for a place of freedom” —   that so characterizes so much of the Austin community.  Sure, many of us would enjoy the fruits of record sales, big checks for live shows, and all that.  But while corporate music is ALL about shuckin’ and jivin’ for the Yankee dollar — the spirit Nouwen says “makes us conquerors who will fight for our place in the world, even at the cost of others” — we are blessed here (and in other places too) with sharing music that unveils the hidden truths of our own lives and the lives of those around us.

Now of course we never always live up to our own visions — but these words I write to remind us of why we are here, and to speak an encouraging word that one day we will realize the song that is in each heart that may all too often be locked up inside and covered by layers of fear that sometimes is masked by bravado. 

My buddy B. Sterling Archer was excited to tell me about LAZ D, a rap artist from Oregon with whom his band shared a stage last night at Beerland.  LAZ D (Cam Lasley) started out in music playing drums in his junior high band, and soon began writing lyrics that best fit the rap/hiphop style he was developing.  At 26, he has just finished work on his second full-length CD of his song, and he tours extensively (though mostly around Oregon).  LAZ D collaborated two years ago with Austin-based filmmaker Jack Gibson to make a video, “Street Anthem,” which was shown at the Sprout Film Festival.  The guy is strong. 

Then you read this line in his bio:  Despite having Down syndrome, Laz D hasn’t let the disorder deter him from writing and performing music, sending words of encouragement to everyone.