An oddball, trifling McCartney album I enjoy front to back. (One of only two.) Proof that music need not be deep to be good. The most Beatlesy of all their solo albums, full of fun melodies, interesting chord progressions, charmingly goofy singing, and production thatās generous without ever falling into schmaltz. Itās fun to picture Paul enjoying cutting records with his wife! (And Iāll listen to Linda over Yoko any day.) The album is not the headwaters of indie pop, as has been claimed; thatās the Beach Boysā two 1967 albums. But it is a very good early exemplar. The only criticism Iāll brook is that it may come across at times a tinch too self-consciously mannered.
As I age, I find Iām less of a Lennon guy and more of a McCartney guy. Is that progress? Is that common?
āOnly rich people can live like Wendell Berry,ā said my friend Josh last night, helping me articulate a misgiving I have about what The Farmer advocates. I donāt think itās entirely true, but I do think itās an examining thought worth bringing when you read Berry. š
š§ šµ Iām glad I kept my CD copy of Superchic[k]ās Karaoke Superstars. Cute, catchy, honest, lightly theistic punk-pop whose lead vocalist was clearly in her early twenties when she wrote it but was nevertheless equipped with the kind of wisdom that twenty-somethings need.
In conversation with a friend last night, we developed a fourfold list of precepts that, if held together (in partial tension, for sure), will lead to a happy life:
Give thanks in all circumstances.
Do what youāre doing. Donāt worry about the rest.
Follow the impulses of your eyes and the desires of your heart, yet know that God will bring you to judgment for all these things.
Itās a fact that you will not accomplish and experience all the things you want to before you die.
The ideal birthday communication is neither the tired greeting card not the awkward phone call. The first is unremarkable; the second requires too much of the recipient. Instead, itās a heartfelt voice message sent via text. š
š§ šµ I happened across a CD copy of local bluegrass stalwarts Tussey Mountain Moonshinersā 2016 album SHINE last year at the AAUW used book sale. It cost me a dollar. Itās (more than) good enough to make me feel as if I have stolen from them.
The CEB reads: āYou have this faith and love because of the hope reserved for you in heavenā for Colossians. So the vision of heaven enables us to be faithful and loving! Fear of death be gone! You see this in stories of the original Christians.
āMr. Casaubon, indeed, had not thoroughly represented those mixed reasons to himself; irritated feeling with him, as with all of us, seeking rather for justification than for self-knowledgeā (George Eliot, Middlemarch).
Isnāt this true for all irritations! We donāt seek the deep reason. We simply want to know weāre right in feeling!
When you marry, you relinquish unilateral control of your self-sacrifice. Most of it is automatically dedicated directly to domestic relationships. And even what remains is subject to a bilateral decision with your wife.
What could I be doing now in theory that Iām not doing because Carla thinks I would be overextending myself in light of family life and my involvement with house church (which is true):
singing in a small, tight-harmony musical group,
Big Brothering,
raising funds for College Avenue path to campus, and
writing songs (as if).
Now, maybe once I finish the Cross essay, I can start singing again.
I should be more strategic with how I spend my time. Wait. More strategic? Oi vey.
