Tuesday
Feb282006
inspiration
Tuesday, February 28, 2006 at 08:11PM
I keep thinking about that Daniel Lanois show I saw a couple weeks ago. The word I kept using to describe it was "inspiring." What was wild was seeing this guy who produced "In Your Eyes" and "Where the Streets Have No Name" playing songs on his guitar just like anybody else (that is, if everybody else plays through a Vox the Edge gave you, but that's not the point...) For whatever reason that got me thinking about why I started doing what it is I do.
I clearly remember one night in my junior year of high school sitting in my friend Elliott's living room watching Zoo TV, the U2 Achtung Baby tour video. The stage was this insane tower of giant tv's and hanging cars, and I was overwhelmed by the spectacle (on VHS, mind you.) Then the band took a little break and walked out to this little island of stage in the middle of the stadium, Bono grabbed an acoustic guitar and played the song "(Stay) Faraway, So Close."
I will never forget that moment. He played E, then F# Major, the kind where you just scoot the E up two frets and leave the B and E strings open, then A, the same way, over and over again, and he just sang words over them in a simple melody. It was beautiful, it was passionate, and most importantly, it was three chords that I know under english words that I knew sung to notes I could sing.
"I could do that," I thought.
Now, like anything else, the things that look the easiest are often the most complex, and a song that can hold the attention of 80,000 people with nothing but two acoustic guitars has got to be a pretty stellar song. Still, that moment was life-changing for me. I had written songs before, but they were stupid and I didn't really care or think through anything. At that moment I knew I had to write songs, like that one. Songs that could be huge and stadiums could sing to and that would stick in your head for weeks. Songs with words that bled from a heart beating at the top its lungs. Songs that could change somebody's life, like that one changed mine.
A few days later I started on that journey. In Ms. Bush's English class, while attempting to keep myself awake through endless BeaWolf discussion, I wrote what became one of the worst songs of my public recording career (a little piece of cubic zirconium called "Daddy's Girl" off the first Normals' album). The quality of the song isn't really the issue, though, for me, that song was a first step and I knew it. Just like Ella Friday afternoon, that first step was exciting because I knew then that I could take more steps and I'd soon be walking.
So here I am, I've just finished my third solo album, after three Normals' albums, two Caedmon's records, and various other tunes here and there, probably 60 or 70 songs in front of everybody, backed up by 200 or 300 in the bedroom and the basement nobody ever heard. And new steps all over the place. "Mother India" : my first key change. "The Best I Can" : the first time I named a specific place and person. "Kara" : the first from somebody else's point of view. Each step a little scary at first, but leading to a wider world the next morning.
And I'll keep taking those steps. I'll probably never get a tune as good as "Stay" but the journey is more the point. It has taken me to other countries, into conversations with my heroes, into lawyer's offices full of knives and tears, and into your ipods and living rooms.
So what about you? Was there a moment of inspiration that led you to be a teacher, or a pastor, or a doctor? A construction worker or a dentist? What was the step you were so afraid that now you take every day without thinking about?
I clearly remember one night in my junior year of high school sitting in my friend Elliott's living room watching Zoo TV, the U2 Achtung Baby tour video. The stage was this insane tower of giant tv's and hanging cars, and I was overwhelmed by the spectacle (on VHS, mind you.) Then the band took a little break and walked out to this little island of stage in the middle of the stadium, Bono grabbed an acoustic guitar and played the song "(Stay) Faraway, So Close."
I will never forget that moment. He played E, then F# Major, the kind where you just scoot the E up two frets and leave the B and E strings open, then A, the same way, over and over again, and he just sang words over them in a simple melody. It was beautiful, it was passionate, and most importantly, it was three chords that I know under english words that I knew sung to notes I could sing.
"I could do that," I thought.
Now, like anything else, the things that look the easiest are often the most complex, and a song that can hold the attention of 80,000 people with nothing but two acoustic guitars has got to be a pretty stellar song. Still, that moment was life-changing for me. I had written songs before, but they were stupid and I didn't really care or think through anything. At that moment I knew I had to write songs, like that one. Songs that could be huge and stadiums could sing to and that would stick in your head for weeks. Songs with words that bled from a heart beating at the top its lungs. Songs that could change somebody's life, like that one changed mine.
A few days later I started on that journey. In Ms. Bush's English class, while attempting to keep myself awake through endless BeaWolf discussion, I wrote what became one of the worst songs of my public recording career (a little piece of cubic zirconium called "Daddy's Girl" off the first Normals' album). The quality of the song isn't really the issue, though, for me, that song was a first step and I knew it. Just like Ella Friday afternoon, that first step was exciting because I knew then that I could take more steps and I'd soon be walking.
So here I am, I've just finished my third solo album, after three Normals' albums, two Caedmon's records, and various other tunes here and there, probably 60 or 70 songs in front of everybody, backed up by 200 or 300 in the bedroom and the basement nobody ever heard. And new steps all over the place. "Mother India" : my first key change. "The Best I Can" : the first time I named a specific place and person. "Kara" : the first from somebody else's point of view. Each step a little scary at first, but leading to a wider world the next morning.
And I'll keep taking those steps. I'll probably never get a tune as good as "Stay" but the journey is more the point. It has taken me to other countries, into conversations with my heroes, into lawyer's offices full of knives and tears, and into your ipods and living rooms.
So what about you? Was there a moment of inspiration that led you to be a teacher, or a pastor, or a doctor? A construction worker or a dentist? What was the step you were so afraid that now you take every day without thinking about?
Reader Comments (11)
I learned to play guitar so I could sing Jars and Caedmon tunes in my Church. I knew I wanted to continue music when I say the Dave Matthews Band in 11th grade... they had so much fun on stage. It's cool that God has called me to be a worship leader. I get the thrill of playing music and the honor of worshiping Him.
Wow, Andy. Thank you for writing that. It's cool to focus back on one moment that really meant something, one moment that really changed things. I like your list of "firsts."
I just copied and pasted this entry into notebook and saved it on my computer. I'm about to be 20 in a few days and I've been trying to write songs lately, but I haven't come up with anything I'm absolutely proud of yet. People like you, Caedmon's Call, Andrew Peterson, and many others have inspired me to do that. Every time I listen to an album by you guys it makes me want to be able to do that. It's nice to know that some of the same things I'm dealing with now (like not thinking through anything), you had to deal with as well.
I'm glad that guy is on your side. His name is punchyourface1. I wouldn't want to make him mad.
Believe it or not, Andy, the Challenger disaster is what got me into manned spaceflight. I was just telling that story last night ... I should tell you sometime over a beer.
Mmmm ... beer.
if i had a similar tale to tell i would tell it. i think i'm still looking for that merger of inspiration and achievement. or maybe i've already taken my first few steps and i just don't know it yet.
i think the cooler thing though, is that what you are doing now (in your music and even in this post), is becoming that performance of Stay for others. So that's really cool in a circle of life kinda way.
Mmmm ... beer.
Well I was sitting in a basement in Nashville that had this really cool vibe being emitted by several red diodes, and this guy named Andy was playing these killer guitar parts, and I'm thinking, "I wish I could do that, I'm going to practice like mad and figure that out." - true story
I have those 'first' moments before different seasons in my life. Once, it was being in the ER in Oak Ridge, TN and realizing that God can use me even after my body fails.
Another was living in poor living conditions and still showing Christ to the people who were making the conditions poor in New York.
A third, most recently, was a year ago on Easter Sunday, crawling into my tent at the bottom of the Grand Canyon after a day of work (one day in a series of eight) and taking Communion by myself, far away from other believers. God has graced me with a chance for more education without the bills so I may be more committed and less transitional.
A fourth, just for fun: the first time I realized that other people listened to music that wasn't only 'today's greatest hits' was when I was randomly singing songs from They Might Be Giants' Flood as a freshman in high school. My voice was joined by some strange guy from NCHS named Andy. I think there was volleyball being played.
This was a really great post. If nothing else, makes me want to find a copy of that Zoo TV video and see what all the hoopla is about. Nope, nope.
I actually wrote out my moment of inspiration over on my blog.
http://web.mac.com/nabus19/iWeb
For those who are not going to meander over, my inspiration came from guy named Rich Mullins. And he inspired me to become the man I am today.
What an inspirational post, Andy. For years before I came to seminary I was a middle school English teacher. I never had a clue that I wanted to be a teacher. Through my 20s I worked various jobs, mostly in sales, and hated every day.
Then one day my church challenged me to quit my job and spend three months hanging out at the church's little school. They had a hunch that there was a teacher hidden inside my battered skin. To this day I don't know why I took them up on it, but somewhere in those early days I overheard one sixth grader saying to another, "That new teacher, Mr. T., he really makes it fun to learn." I was smitten for the next 17 years.
very nice. I think some of us are slow burners though. I never really had one big moment (the closest was probably my first Bela Fleck concert), but I can see God's hand moving me along the path which has taken me to this place.