The Buttermilk Jamboree and Ed Englerth’s Latest CD, Hope. Dream. Sigh.

Saturday I played with the Ed Englerth Band at the Buttermilk Jamboree near Delton, Michigan. This was the first of what is likely to become an annual all-weekend event at the Circle Pines Camp in the heart of rural Barry County. It was a fun and interesting festival that combined music and arts with the cooperatively owned camp’s longstanding values of ecology and sustainable living. As you might expect, the festival drew an eclectic crowd of every age, from old hippies to young musicians and everything between and beyond. Picture Woodstock in the woods and you’ve got the idea.

In the midst of this colorful hodgepodge, Ed, Alan, Don, and I did an evening performance on the Sugar Bush Stage. Oddly, while we appeared in the online schedule, the paper printout didn’t include us. We drew a decent group of listeners regardless, and Ed sold a few CDs from his newly minted album, Hope. Dream. Sigh. The CD is in fact so new that Ed paid extra for an early shipment, which arrived at his door mere hours before showtime.

I want to talk a little about Hope. Dream. Sigh. I’m hesitant to say that it’s Ed’s best effort yet because his last CD, Restless Ghost, is so bloody good. But this CD is at least of that same caliber, and some of the arrangements are easily the most ambitious yet. This is largely due to the way that Ed utilized me on the saxophones. This is the first of his albums on which we…

  • multi-tracked my horn parts to create an entire sax section. The apogee of this approach is the tune “Sad Stories,” with its ironic Calypso beat and wacky, humorous slant on relational woes.
  • created faux baritone sax tracks. Since I don’t own a bari, and since “Empty Pockets” seemed to flat-out demand the incorporation of a bari, we made one electronically by laying down an alto track and then dropping it an octave digitally. It worked great! “Empty Pockets” cooks, an irresistibly driving, hardcore rocker.
  • made unprecedented use of my soprano sax. I’ve been reluctant to play the soprano on previous albums because, well, my intonation sucks. Or so I’ve always thought. But that problem doesn’t crop up on this CD. Two songs feature the soprano in a big way, and in both of them the horn sounds fabulous. “I Do, I Don’t” klezmerizes Ed’s tongue-in-cheek commentary on fantasy living for the not-so-rich and delusional. On the serious side, “When Words Fail” is a minor, blues-drenched look at love that goes the distance when communication breaks down. I got a lot of room to stretch out on this tune as a soloist, and I’m delighted with the results.
  • .
    Ed is a fantastic songwriter and lyricist who steadfastly resists categorization. That’s one reason why I respect him as an artist and love him as a friend. The man has integrity as well as soul. Moreover, in Alan Dunst on drums, Don Cheeseman playing bass, and, I trust, me on the saxophones, Ed has found a small, steady core of fellow musicians and brothers in Christ who grasp and believe in his music. Each album displays growth, new directions, fresh creative expressions.

    Yes I’m biased. Of course I am–what would you expect? But not so biased that I’d speak this glowingly of Hope. Dream. Sigh. unless I believed it was really just that good. It is. Check it out and see for yourself. I might add that, with 17 tracks, you’ll get more than your money’s worth.

    And with that, I’m signing off. Early morning has turned into mid morning and the rest of this Monday stretches before me, with work to do and necessities to attend to. Ciao.

    Going Beyond the Music

    Last night’s rehearsal for our June 11 concert at the Buttermilk Jamboree with Ed Englerth, Alan Dunst, and Don Cheeseman was much more than a shared creative time with three of my favorite musical droogs. Life has been pretty intense lately–financial pressures, Mom recovering from a knee replacement, Lisa struggling with what appears to be a ruptured bicep, physical concerns of my own–and I’d be lying to say that I’ve born it all with a smile on my face. I haven’t. I’ve felt weary, discouraged, and depressed. So reconnecting with the band and working on Ed’s music gave me a badly needed release. I needed to just forget about the rest of life for a while and play my horn with some friends with whom I’ve shared a love of music for many years now under the auspices of Ed’s songwriting.

    Speaking of which, the guy just keeps getting better and better, and so does the band. Ed’s upcoming CD may be his best effort yet, which is saying a hunk considering the benchmark set by his last CD, Restless Ghost. I hope to finally hear the final master tonight, and then I’ll know for sure which album is my favorite. What’s certain is that we pulled out a few extra stops in the studio with this project, including the use of multiple sax tracks to create the effect of an entire sax section. Also, in an unprecedented departure from my die-hard devotion to the alto sax, I played my soprano on a couple tunes. I may have even played it in tune; I’ll find out soon enough.

    But I was talking about how much I needed to tune up, blow some notes, and forget about the rest of life for while. Music is as much a part of life as anything else. In my case, it’s a very good part and a very large part, and I needed to be reminded of that. When I forget what “normal” looks like, nights like last night help me draw back to the center of who God created me to be and reclaim some parts of myself that I sometimes lose track of.

    It seems that I wasn’t the only one. Don and his wife have been going through a difficult, hugely demanding time with their new baby son, who has Down Syndrome and has struggled nonstop with acute allergies. Ed has been dealing with the advancing, age-related health problems of his beloved mother- and father-in-law, who reside with him and his wife, Panda. Alan was the only guy who didn’t seem to have heavy stuff going on in his life at the moment, or if he did, chose not to share. But he’s been through his own fires. We all have, and last night at least three of us were feeling the heat.

    So it seemed that the right thing to do, after we had finished practicing, was spend some time talking and praying together. It’s so easy to just pack up the instruments and head home without ever thinking to pray. But there’s power and healing in the honesty, faith, earnestness, and hope of collectively conversing with our heavenly Father. I would go so far as to say that a band of Christian musicians that bypasses the opportunity to get real with each other and with the Lord is missing what may well be the most vital part of their time together, more important even than the music (though that’s important).

    Real is what the four of us got last night, and it was good. I left feeling not only connected with God and with the guys, but also reconnected with myself. Something about standing humbly and openly in the presence of Jesus has a way of doing that, of reminding me who and Whose I really am. The gloom lifts, the lies and warping influence of the world’s nonstop millrace lose their grip, and I discover once again that quiet place where I can hear God speak. It is a place of peace and a place of power. When David spoke in Psalm 23 of God as the one who restored his soul, I understand what he meant.

    I think, I hope, that all of us last night discovered the potential of prayer and our need to incorporate it into our rehearsals more often. More even than the songs we play and the creative passion we share, the Spirit of Jesus Christ draws us together, and it’s the thing that can take our band to the next level–possibly the next musical level, but more certainly the next level of what God has in mind for us.

    Lord, I thank you for last night’s blessing of connecting with you and with my brothers Ed, Don, and Alan through the gift of heartfelt, down-to-earth, unpretentious prayer. Please look after each of my friends. You know their needs and you know mine. Care for us and our loved ones as a shepherd cares for the sheep of his pasture, for that is who you are: The Good Shepherd. Give us to hear and treasure your voice–for in it, and it alone, is life.