CELEBRATING WITH SEINFELD
My parents weren't into music, ever. Don't ask me what my musical influences were growing up. There weren't any.My dad had a couple of Kingston Trio records, my mom an Elvis greatest hits collection, and at a garage sale once I bought a Buddy Holly record. I liked his glasses. Other than that there was no music in our house.
But early in the morning, while getting dressed for school, or late at night, always at the lowest volume possible, I hovered over the plastic record player beside my bed and listened intently to Bill Cosby and Robin Williams. Not the best staple for a developing mind but it got me through childhood and adolescence.
It made me the class clown and became my tool of choice for forging nervousness and self-loathing into approval from my peers and teachers. It taught me how to perform, how to time a joke and milk the ordinary for extraordinary, if only temporary, happiness. Laughing thrilled me like nothing else as a kid and I've always enjoyed infecting others with the same pleasure.
It must have been odd, to say the least, for my parents to watch their eight year-old recite an entire monologue from a comedy record, deleting the bad words along the way of course. Odder still for them to see me telling jokes of my own to crowds more than twenty years later who buy my "records." Odd to them but a dream come true for me.
Becky and I both love comedy, clean comedy, which is hard to find. Well, it's hard to find any that's still funny. Rarer still is smart comedy. Let's be honest, these are the days of the catch phrase, the "gitter dones" and "you might be a rednecks" are as ample as mindless feel good cliches on Christian radio and lowbrow brawls on daytime talk shows. Everyone's dumbing down and piling up the money as a result.
I guess that's one reason I loved Seinfeld when he first filled my TV screen. In a time of Chris Rock raunchiness and dozens of imitators Seinfeld was original in his refusal to stoop for applause. Truly funny intelligent people, I've always thought, don't need to use "shit" instead of a pronoun. And Seinfeld doesn't. Instead, I've watched amazed as this ordinary guy takes situations from my ordinary life and makes them extraordinarily hilarious in unpredictable ways.
So tonight, because comedy is a shared love of ours, and because Seinfeld is one of the best American comedians ever, we went to see Jerry at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center in Nashville. We bought some of the last seats available, way up high and off to one side. He looked tiny but the whit was as massive as ever. And his new material is even easier for us to relate to now that he's married with kids.
I didn't stop laughing all night. I actually slapped my knee. What a great way for becky and I to celebrate eight years of great times together: smiling.
And I'm so thankful now that my earliest influences weren't serious rock stars but people like me who poke fun at themselves and remind us all that life is filled with punchlines and reasons to grin. We just have to notice them. Thank you Mr. Seinfeld for helping us do that tonight.
Lighten up.
Got thoughts? Post a comment below or discuss on my message-board.







In the end the indie artist is neither saved nor sunk after signing with or turning down a label. And that's the subject of my last post in this series. So much of my life post-school centered around trying to discern what "God's will" was for my life. And so much of that struggled was a search for the right job, a way to make money and be satisfied. How American and how not Christian of me.
"This ring means I love mommy," I told my oldest daughter last night at bedtime. "And mommy's ring means she loves me. That's why we never take them off. We always love each other and always will. When people get married they promise they'll always be best friends and take care of each other and love each other no matter what. And tomorrow we'll have a party because we kept our promise. It's called an anniversary."

KXOJ in Tulsa, by contrast to the station we dealt with in Dallas, produced the best radio spots (and funniest) I've ever heard on radio anywhere and got a large crowd out to the show in Broken Arrow. They had me on their morning show, the top rated show in Tulsa, and we took radio contest winners to lunch at Abuellos, my favorite Mexican food joint outside of Texas.
JULY 12: NASHVILLE, TN
The week a CD is released to the public is called Street Week. Every CD sold that week counts towards the first week's SoundScan total, reflected on the albums sales chart. A CD's first week chart position is key to getting the attention of the media, retail and radio branches of the Christian music business, promoters and hopefully key to getting more help from all of them in the weeks ahead. He with the most "scans" is number one for that week, called Street Week.
In light of that we played our first Street Week show in Boca Raton (Mouth of the Rat) on Monday the 11th and sold CDs beginning at exactly 5:01. It was a solo show which made it difficult to pull off the new band oriented CD but the people of Boca Raton and the West Palm Beach area didn’t seem to mind. The great thing about playing new music is no one knows when it doesn’t sound like the CD – and no one knows when I flub a lyric – especially if I make a decent one up on the spot, or just anything that rhymes.
Thanks in huge part to West Palm Beach’s WAY-FM, the folks of Florida know my music and come to my shows even on Monday nights. And I don’t take that for granted. So the least I can do is stop by the studio and allow Brandt and Donna, the most attractive people in radio today, to mock me publicly for a couple hours…as long as they provide me with a chicken biscuit from Chic-fil-A and a Dr.Pepper. (notice the shiny aluminum wrapped goodness resting between Donna and me.)
Thanks WAY-FM for being truly entertaining great radio by any standard, Christian or not. And thanks to Donna, Brandt, everyone at Spanish River Church and the folks of Florida for making the first show of White Flag’s Street Week a success. Lots of concert-goers left with CDs in hand and more than 30 children were sponsored through Compassion International.
I feel today the way I felt years ago sitting on a tour bus on the way to Wichita Falls. The TV screen doused our brains in replays of hostilities against the citizens of New York continuously, foaming my sorrow and shock into rage and bloodlust. And as I swung from mourner to mercenary that September day I now realize the momentum swept me farther from the kingdom of God and closer to the ghetto of man. I realize now, regrettably, how little of my passion was expressed in or founded upon God's words or His Son's example.
I'm a DJ today, co-hosting the morning show at
LOGOS bookstore in Dallas, Tx has begun selling WHITE FLAG, one week early and all you-know-what will now break lose. 


Then it was off in the "tour bus" (this week's was a Ford Focus) to lunch with Danny from Way-FM and a few other new friends. Then, once stuffed with Oregon's version of Mexican food (man, these people need some real Tex-Mex in a big way) we drove a few blocks to the "Go Fourth" festival, thrown by numerous denominations in the cities of Longview and Kelso to celebrate and create unity among all Christians here.
And did I mention already that folks in the Northwest are a little different from us down south. Yea, they are. We eat funnel cakes, cotton candy and other heart stopping indulgences at shindigs like this. Apparently people in these parts want to live though. What's that about?

Oregon's definitely not the South. For starters, when you walk into a southern gas station the first thing you'll see is NASCAR memorabilia, beef jerky or bumper stickers. The second thing you'll see is every partially hydrogenated snack food ever made. But in Oregon all that is replaced with mixed fruit and nuts and every granola snack food ever made.
But today in Salem I actually spotted beef jerky in a convenience store and it didn't rain a drop. It was a good day in the sun on a stage at the base of a treed mountain. I do think there are more trees in Oregon than people. And that made for an amazing drive from Portland, where we landed late last night, to Thrillville USA. Yes, Thrillville USA...and RV park.
Sure it's not Carnegie Hall but there was sound and lights and people. What else do you need?
On my last day of playing Mr. Mom my kids and I paid a visit to
He met us at the door to the big Idea offices along with Kurt Heinecke, the main music guy at Big Idea. Veggie Tales music is the only kid music I can actually enjoy. Most of that is because the lyrics are very well crafted - not at all about "adult" things, but very well done, extremely smart and irreverent. They remind me of old Warner Brothers cartoons in that there are two layers happening at once. A kid layer of bold color and big eyed talking vegetables and another layer of sarcastic grown-up pleasing humor (poking fun at suburbanites in SUVs they don't really need, for instance). And the chord progressions are complex and clever enough to make a music nerd like me appreciative. Kurt Heinecke has everything to do with all of that. I'm a big fan.
Then it was off to meet Mike Nawrocki, one of the founders of Big Idea, the voice of Larry the Cucumber and another co-writer of Veggie Tales' songs. He was extremely gracious, taking time out of his busy day to hang out with us for a few minutes. He even broke into the Larry voice for next extra charge, which freaked my kids out. They weren't sure how Larry's voice was coming from this strange man. So I just told them Mr.Mike got hungry and ate Larry. They seemed OK with that. I think.
I paint. Well, not much anymore, but I began life as a visual artist and only migrated to melodies and poetry in an effort to woo women in high school. But I've always thought in pictures more than sounds. And my most content moments as a child were at the kitchen table, crayon or paintbrush in hand, glue under my nails, slivers of paper scattered around me, covered in the debris of the creative process. Created was my Ritalin. Still is. Before doctors and moms medicated the overly enthusiastic and manic my mother channelled my hyperactivity and intellect into pages and paint. And it's still my drug of choice.
Instead I just make. Make what I like. And while people sometimes comment on the honesty of my shows or songs I have to admit that my paintings, because they're unscrutinized and unsold, are the most honest works I make these days. The rest is half honesty and half marketable commodity. Half joy and half necessary labor.




