i sat in the shroud, watched as my eyes welled up with tears, the dancers miming away the pain and drone of our modern beasts and machines. animatrix is really a vein of revelations. i wanna watch it again. there was a hush in the room. something about performing art that captivates our imagination. stating the understated. i need to go tell the dancers that they moved me, deeply. So much that it prepared me for my set.
bassman came up at the end of the night saying it was our best yet. and talked about recording and stuff. like my brother says, be faithful in the little you are given and the people will come. I'm seeing a glimpse of it. Much easier than trying to cast vision and throw a motivational spiel in the middle of a four way conversation. Just do it and the rest will follow.
i must say the weirdest comment i had was this. that i sound like paul simon.
Paul Simon. PAUL SIMON! PAUL freaking SIMON of Simon & Garfunkel!!
To be compared to the likes of modern pop icons that i listen to extensively is one thing, for you can tell they'd obviously influence my sound. But to be compared to an artist who has stood the test of time, created genres and innovated shifts in music & culture is quite another.
makes me wanna pay more attention than the inspirational documentary i watched about said musician.
the choir was magical. when they appeared into the foreground light on the dance floor, there was a warm cheer from the crowd. something about how the song was arranged to have the choir walk into the light played a key role in bringing the song to another level. something i hadn't quite foreseen, but definitely envisioned. community is perhaps the one word that could come close to aptly describing what it probably was.
my brother reminded me a while ago on why i write & sing. this is the beginning of songs that may span ages and generations, songs that we take to our campfires, songs we sing when we are down, songs we sing when we celebrate, songs we sing along the journey when things get tough. songs that carry us into the next juncture of hope. songs that speak of the fingerprints of the creators love. little stories we can pass on to our children, like our favourite folklore and fairy-tales.
i want to write these stories. be paid for it, but not just quick fix drugs that help people forget their pain and misery. may these stories penetrate through the thick of our alchohol, the lies of our denial and the flood of our corporate marketing noise.
may we come back. to the heart of worship.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
replay
it feels surreal. its like the moment where you know you need to just get over it but you know you are just about to. that light drawing so close it is almost blinding you. is this real or am i just once again deluded? may my mind be captured in grace.
i remember the first song i wrote on my guitar - the Congress my bible study teacher handed me. the one with the black nylon strings. classical. sweet tones. i remember lying on my bed, plucking away at every open string and let the strings sing and resonate. i fell in love. i found shapes and chords and keys that made sense. and that one time i 'performed' at the tiong bahru apartment, hacking my way through chords i thought fitted with the songs.
i never quite owned a guitar even though i played extensively, until i shelled out my savings to buy my first yamaha APX. those little glory days. and soon it was takamine, a few flings with the ovation, and now, there's taylor.
but as far as i can remember, the Congress wrote my very first, based on Isaiah 42, 6 - 7. NIV. Word for word. It's funny now that i seem to have a neck to pick up scripture wholesale and write melodies over them. real perculiar. started with a whim when i led our sunday morning worship - sang/rapped Psalms 24 over the chord progression of Enter In preceding the chorus. Then came Save The Day, my frustration at the genre selection of modern day psalmists and made my own version of Psalms 120 & 121. And let's not forget Psalms 23, the shepherd song prelude to my pending bankruptcy.
then came Isaiah 32, a suggestion over camp at easter to co-write a song to leave behind for the next generation. like they say, roll with the punches. Made For More became a humming tune that took me by surprise. It was then Forge weekend, and a series of requests for the song to be recorded so that other communities could sing them at their regular services.
tonight i sit at the heel of the week, wondering, what all this means. I am deep in the water, wet with mixing down hours and hours of songs written by our community, recovering from a long week of getting the choir together, teaching the chorus to a song i only finished writing at 2.00pm today, putting it all together at 3.00pm, in the same afternoon, to what will be the finale anthem for Seeds, our 2008 Annual Dinner, over the coming weekend.
my brother says, the fly wheel effect doesn't slow down. it can only go faster. will this spin out like a lot of the ones before? all i know, is along this journey so far, i have been surprised by grace, stumbling upon people who find space in their hearts to lend me their strength, who come alongside to colour the music, willingly, without any hang ups, resources who find their way to my living space, and the relationships that formed as a result.
i am rich though i am poor. i am resurrecting though i may be close to losing my job. i am surrounded by grace and close to understanding love though my heart is still angry and wayward at times.
as i look back on that cold morning, all alone in the basketball court, praying and seeking, those sweet 16 years ago, this looks like a glimpse to what the answer might be.
who's to say what makes or breaks? who's to say what makes me wake, for in the morning, I'll still be breathing.
i remember the first song i wrote on my guitar - the Congress my bible study teacher handed me. the one with the black nylon strings. classical. sweet tones. i remember lying on my bed, plucking away at every open string and let the strings sing and resonate. i fell in love. i found shapes and chords and keys that made sense. and that one time i 'performed' at the tiong bahru apartment, hacking my way through chords i thought fitted with the songs.
i never quite owned a guitar even though i played extensively, until i shelled out my savings to buy my first yamaha APX. those little glory days. and soon it was takamine, a few flings with the ovation, and now, there's taylor.
but as far as i can remember, the Congress wrote my very first, based on Isaiah 42, 6 - 7. NIV. Word for word. It's funny now that i seem to have a neck to pick up scripture wholesale and write melodies over them. real perculiar. started with a whim when i led our sunday morning worship - sang/rapped Psalms 24 over the chord progression of Enter In preceding the chorus. Then came Save The Day, my frustration at the genre selection of modern day psalmists and made my own version of Psalms 120 & 121. And let's not forget Psalms 23, the shepherd song prelude to my pending bankruptcy.
then came Isaiah 32, a suggestion over camp at easter to co-write a song to leave behind for the next generation. like they say, roll with the punches. Made For More became a humming tune that took me by surprise. It was then Forge weekend, and a series of requests for the song to be recorded so that other communities could sing them at their regular services.
tonight i sit at the heel of the week, wondering, what all this means. I am deep in the water, wet with mixing down hours and hours of songs written by our community, recovering from a long week of getting the choir together, teaching the chorus to a song i only finished writing at 2.00pm today, putting it all together at 3.00pm, in the same afternoon, to what will be the finale anthem for Seeds, our 2008 Annual Dinner, over the coming weekend.
my brother says, the fly wheel effect doesn't slow down. it can only go faster. will this spin out like a lot of the ones before? all i know, is along this journey so far, i have been surprised by grace, stumbling upon people who find space in their hearts to lend me their strength, who come alongside to colour the music, willingly, without any hang ups, resources who find their way to my living space, and the relationships that formed as a result.
i am rich though i am poor. i am resurrecting though i may be close to losing my job. i am surrounded by grace and close to understanding love though my heart is still angry and wayward at times.
as i look back on that cold morning, all alone in the basketball court, praying and seeking, those sweet 16 years ago, this looks like a glimpse to what the answer might be.
who's to say what makes or breaks? who's to say what makes me wake, for in the morning, I'll still be breathing.
Friday, June 20, 2008
watchman
i stay up late. watch, as we each go to sleep. watch myself crawl underneath these sheets, to pause and listen, the recent heavy breathe and close my eyes to the lulling rhythm that brings me peace. just for one moment. one night. one evening. i am grateful that i am considered. that you still believe, after all my failures and regrets.
there is a conscious mind shift i struggle to make, day by day, sometimes, moment by moment, that you are now different from those long lost days. that the hope you now see carries more faith than my heart can believe. that you choose to sit through the pain with me. that you will not allow me to close the door and run away. that you will fight me till it bleeds and breaks us all.
thank you for lending your shoulders to me. i never knew this day was possible. you showed me courage in the face of danger. you won't and probably will never say it, but love is stronger than a few short lines of affection. thicker, than blood. i'll remember your promise to re-member me.
you, too, are a gift. a precious gift.
so, Jesus, watch over us, your little ones. May we stumble in the dark to know your grace. May we find mercy in the face of chaos and unrest. May we never grow weary to fight this fight and run the race.
there is a conscious mind shift i struggle to make, day by day, sometimes, moment by moment, that you are now different from those long lost days. that the hope you now see carries more faith than my heart can believe. that you choose to sit through the pain with me. that you will not allow me to close the door and run away. that you will fight me till it bleeds and breaks us all.
thank you for lending your shoulders to me. i never knew this day was possible. you showed me courage in the face of danger. you won't and probably will never say it, but love is stronger than a few short lines of affection. thicker, than blood. i'll remember your promise to re-member me.
you, too, are a gift. a precious gift.
so, Jesus, watch over us, your little ones. May we stumble in the dark to know your grace. May we find mercy in the face of chaos and unrest. May we never grow weary to fight this fight and run the race.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
the fire of faith
if there is such a word. a word that may describe the intensity, whatever they call to be this journey, road less travelled. my heart races a hundred miles and slows in a split second to reveal what lies beneath. all the courage, mistakes, heartaches and things that still shake me to my core.
days like these, i grow weary of the fire of faith.
it burns, reduces, mostly to tears, no matter the stubbornness of any man. no matter the callousness of any heart.
as i stood in the wake of the shower head, my vision drenched from the mist and shadows that took a while to come out, i walked through another episode of awakening, seeing in the foreground, those who have gone ahead of me, leaving behind ribbons and signposts to guide this late soul.
hope, wrote itself on the condensation of the mirror, embracing, giving.
may i not be blind. may my mind find rest in the shadows of safety. may my centre be rooted in justice and belief. may my core be shaken, time and again, to bring me back home to where it should always be. may i learn the ways of the world, may i find wisdom in my wrestle and struggle with the beasts of the earth. may i live, long after the world is said and done with me.
may it be so. yet again.
days like these, i grow weary of the fire of faith.
it burns, reduces, mostly to tears, no matter the stubbornness of any man. no matter the callousness of any heart.
as i stood in the wake of the shower head, my vision drenched from the mist and shadows that took a while to come out, i walked through another episode of awakening, seeing in the foreground, those who have gone ahead of me, leaving behind ribbons and signposts to guide this late soul.
hope, wrote itself on the condensation of the mirror, embracing, giving.
may i not be blind. may my mind find rest in the shadows of safety. may my centre be rooted in justice and belief. may my core be shaken, time and again, to bring me back home to where it should always be. may i learn the ways of the world, may i find wisdom in my wrestle and struggle with the beasts of the earth. may i live, long after the world is said and done with me.
may it be so. yet again.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
weight
you don't know what comes next. you just never know. something is stirring, a discontent i am not quite convinced to call holy. for i have my insecurities, my inadequancies, my demons, my pitfalls, tendencies, temptations and snares at my heel... but something is stirring, groaning, for much more than our little content warm huts.
woke up this morning, with a new video idea, involving just about anyone in our community.
in an email to a friend, whatever i wrote, brought me to a listening point...
"...the hours and nights spent just for a product that spans a few minutes of someone's listening time that might possibly change them forever, bringing them to a listening point, perhaps even saving their lives from apathy, suicide, oppression, deception by the present day beasts and machines... the profound weight we have no idea that's resting on our shoulders. God have mercy. God deliver us."
a chorus came racing into my head that sounded so right, that even the guitar was humming along to the soul within...
"don't let the weight of the world
rest on your shoulders tonight
don't let it weigh you down
He's got it all in His hands
Cos you ain't God
you ain't your story yet..."
or something like that. this new brew feels like the theme to AD08. More than what I had intended before. with the idea of a seed, germinating, our stories all a part of His tapestry and history. this new direction sounds like the anthem i had dreamt of. i can now truly hear the choir!
i've got my hair standing on ends with an out of body experience. God, would you write this with me?
woke up this morning, with a new video idea, involving just about anyone in our community.
in an email to a friend, whatever i wrote, brought me to a listening point...
"...the hours and nights spent just for a product that spans a few minutes of someone's listening time that might possibly change them forever, bringing them to a listening point, perhaps even saving their lives from apathy, suicide, oppression, deception by the present day beasts and machines... the profound weight we have no idea that's resting on our shoulders. God have mercy. God deliver us."
a chorus came racing into my head that sounded so right, that even the guitar was humming along to the soul within...
"don't let the weight of the world
rest on your shoulders tonight
don't let it weigh you down
He's got it all in His hands
Cos you ain't God
you ain't your story yet..."
or something like that. this new brew feels like the theme to AD08. More than what I had intended before. with the idea of a seed, germinating, our stories all a part of His tapestry and history. this new direction sounds like the anthem i had dreamt of. i can now truly hear the choir!
i've got my hair standing on ends with an out of body experience. God, would you write this with me?
Sunday, June 1, 2008
wheel
so it turns, a cycle familiar. i'm sitting at the beginning of a series of little projects and sessions that will eventually stitch together to form one cohesion to pepper the flavor of this one event. as i sat before the LCD, i found myself stopping to taste the goodness that has crept into my life.
willing accomplices, comradeship without a dragging feet, i seem to have stumbled upon not just a window but found friendship in the common denominator of our emotional and spiritual language.
it's only been several hours but we've tracked a short verse chorus and a full track for that song over easter. i can't help but smile in gleeful contentment to hear the full bottom ends that need no compression. ok, maybe a little. but the lounge room has turned into an acoustically suitable pad to capture the energies of a live set.
i can't wait for the next day and for the rest of the month and year. I don't know where this is going to lead. but the learning curve has taken a eager steep climb.
and just as my hands got a little wet. a friend sends me
willing accomplices, comradeship without a dragging feet, i seem to have stumbled upon not just a window but found friendship in the common denominator of our emotional and spiritual language.
it's only been several hours but we've tracked a short verse chorus and a full track for that song over easter. i can't help but smile in gleeful contentment to hear the full bottom ends that need no compression. ok, maybe a little. but the lounge room has turned into an acoustically suitable pad to capture the energies of a live set.
i can't wait for the next day and for the rest of the month and year. I don't know where this is going to lead. but the learning curve has taken a eager steep climb.
and just as my hands got a little wet. a friend sends me