On Makeup

I recently was having a discussion with a friend who remarked,

“My wife doesn’t need makeup, she’s naturally beautiful.”

The implication being, of course, those wives which choose to wear makeup do so because they aren’t naturally beautiful, and the addition of makeup to one’s face is an attempt, albeit a vain one, to supply the face with some sort of external beauty. I challenged him on the implication, but after reflecting on the matter I realize that there’s a larger issue to consider.

Makeup is not a product women use to cover up those parts of their faces which they perceive to be “not beautiful.” Nor is makeup some inherently beautiful substance which, if applied to the body, yields a larger amount of total beauty in a given face. Rather, the application of makeup grants a person the opportunity to participate with the natural, created beauty in each face already formed. The master makeup artist merely accentuates and cooperates with the features previously ordered and structured and finds his success in drawing appropriate, tasteful attention to what already exists.

It could be likened to the artistry of a painter. No painter covers his canvas with color because he thinks blank canvasses are ugly, but rather he paints to assume the role of a creative participant in the natural order he perceives around him.

Any opportunity to participate contains within it the opportunity to participate poorly. The application of any medium may be distorted in a way which actually distracts from the natural order. Certainly the desire to utilize makeup, or paint or a musical instrument can become perverted in a way which, far from achieving beauty, is actually ugly. The problem, however, is not the instrument itself, but the direction given from the participant brandishing the tool.

I love seeing a face made up beautifully. It tells of the order present in the human body, the rules which must be followed in order to achieve beauty and that we humans have been graciously granted the opportunity to create alongside the Creator of nature.

Bobby Bare Jr.’s “American Bread”

Bobby Bare Jr.’s latest project is a lyrical presentation of seven songs which prevent the listener from regarding this as just another collection from “some southern-gothic, Johnny Cash/Conner Oberst hybrid;” it’s certainly much more than that.  Very much a potpourri, Bare Jr.’s American Bread is more of a moody, musical snapshot of the artist than it is a polished, full-length album.  This “uncollected collection” feel really serves the songs well as each is delivered with a(n apparently calculated) nonchalance resulting in the skillful swagger a Southern-Gothic might typically go for. 

“A Horse with No Name” is a poetic march across desert, sea and forest.  While austere drum taps and a mechanical whirring open, a sullen electric piano gently rocks eerily between chords inviting the creeping, throaty whisper to begin its tale.  “The ocean is a desert with its life underground/and a perfect disguise above.  Under the cities lies a heart made of ground/but the humans will give no love.”

The rich, crackly timbre of the baritone vocals give a folksy-wisdom which both pleases aurally and punches the record with a distinct, grandfatherly personality.  Background vocals abound, and yet are subtly used more as instruments; harmonically complementing with the soft texture of brush strokes.  The drum and bass work is inspired; a pristine combination of tasteful parts and classic tone.  The pair develop grooves well while staying a far cry from being featured.  Each instrument seems carefully selected and artfully captured in a way which presents its vintage quality. Though minimalistic, the production seems the result of a deliberate whittling which is a testament to the artist’s ingenuity in composition.  Only instruments that work well together, and they do fit together wonderfully, stay.  These recordings create musical space and the songs are the better for it.

Butterfly Boucher’s “Scary Fragile”

Scary Fragile represents the influence of many songwriters of the 90’s (Alanis Morrisette, Sheryl Crow, etc.) cast in a more contemporary vogue manifest through a talented multi-instrumentalist attempting an original pop identity while avoiding the comparison.  A bright poppy-record, Scary Fragile succeeds in maintaining concise arrangements while not sounding as though every song were deliberately crafted for a film or television placement.  

 Though the arrangements find little deviance from a linear verse, chorus, bridge structure, the record is sonically engaging; guitar riffs, powerful harmonic vocal complexities and plenty of acoustic auxiliaries such as piano, strings, synthesizers and beats. The opening track, “I found out,” is an energetic, fist-in-the-air guitar reflection on identity in the context of relationship.  The track is simultaneously angst-laden, poetic and feminine. Thematically, the record often comes off a little ambiguous with such a pristine production and such an attempt at vulnerability. The fact that all the songs were written, arranged and performed by Butterfly Boucher allows the listener to assume a deliberate quality to the production which flirts with self-indulgence.  

 A highlight lyrically, the album’s title track evokes a hauntingly poetic sentiment by way of strong, visceral imagery, “On board there’s a plank set aside, nailed down and ready to be walked.  These splinters in my hands won’t go; I’ve held on tight.  What’ll happen tonight? I’ve tried before.”  The image of harsh splinters piercing tender flesh casts the scary/fragile motif into cutting metaphor.

With Scary Fragile, Butterfly Boucher’s voice weaves through reflective medleys which feature both her pop sense and musical proficiency.   The songs are busy, yet not distractingly so.  With an intricacy that is a testament to her artistry Butterfly Boucher assembles an interesting collection with clear personality and a strong sense of melody.

The Bees’ Buzz Buzz

A consumer driven economy has behind the wheel a singular compulsion; satisfaction of desire.  Desires met by, often guided by, products, services and content expertly constructed to satisfy the multitudes.  Of the many tactics employed by marketing experts, the Buzz Word stands alone in its ubiquity.  That perfect, short stab of meaning stamps a product with just the right connotation, mood or demographic.  Often these words appeal to something higher; something outside oneself like a duty or charge. 

And here is where the Christian might take a lesson from the ad exec.  These words evoke an emotional response in the reader due to their transcendent tone.  Humanity desires to experience and participate in something supernatural.  Biblical Christianity tells us the same thing.  “Teach me your ways, O LORD, and I will walk in your truth” (Psalms 86:11).  The longings we find addressed in Scripture are the same cries of the heart upon which modern marketing capitalizes today.

Popular bookshelves are filled with pages on Culture.  Christopher Hitchens’ “God is Not Great,” Bill O’Reilly’s “Culture Warrior,” or Mark Driscoll’s “Confessions of a Reformission Rev” are books claiming to critique our culture and catch a lot of attention because of it.  Though commentaries on popular culture can be trite, Christ himself urges His followers to engage the culture because they are part of it.  Jesus said, “Make disciples of all nations;” not simply Believers, but culturally-engaged Disciples.  

A Disciple surrenders his multi-faceted life of economics, politics, art and the mundane to Christ’s teaching as opposed to simply affirming certain propositional claims as true.  There is a human desire for an over-arching approach to life, grand in its scope and precise in its application.  Publishers and Authors are marketing this desire.  The Bible urges this approach to be comprehensively Christian.  The desire to be Cultural, however, is present in each of us regardless.

Community is a unique Buzz word because its antithesis, the Self, is so universal.  Though the status of the Self has been debated through the centuries (Medieval monasticism, Communist revolution and communal living in 1960’s America) it remains the primary (and only) station for experiencing this world.  Primary, and yet within each of us is a funny nudge to consider those other than the Self.  At times this notion inflates to a degree so absurd as to consider others over the Self.  Now, moral implications may be ignored, but one would be challenged to find an individual against “community-conscious” companies. 

Biblical examples of Community are brilliant and find their earthly culmination in the Church.  Possessions were shared and widows and orphans were regarded highest.  In the Church the primacy of the Self gave way to experiencing this world in and through others.  Whole Foods Market maintains as its operation philosophy the importance of utilizing local produce growers, and people respond to it.  TOMS Shoes donates shoes to those less fortunate and in so doing transform the ordinary event of shoe shopping into an others-conscious Communal act.

Green is the mother of all Buzz words today.  Though it rarely finds itself on the Evangelical social agenda, it has its roots (trunk, branch and leaf too for that matter) in the Biblical notion of terrestrial stewardship.  “The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it” (Gen 2:15).  Man was initially a gardener.  Economy has evolved from agriculture to factory work to cubicles to wireless coffee shops, yet there remains the God-given desire to tend to and care for the earth.  Mountains will always have their majesty, fresh air should be drawn deeply into the lungs and cold water was created to be gulped, splashed and swam in.  If Tesla Motors or someone in Detroit can produce a Green car that is a viable social investment then the world will see a secular company making use of a Biblical principle, and the markets won’t know what hit them.

Milktooth debut EP

A dynamic inaugural effort; through the use of stark contrast the band makes a candid record with wide accessibility and appeal.  Precise musical arrangements cast the howling vocals in a feral hue lending them a candor which punctuates each song with lyrical depth.  The opening track “The Serving Plate” opens with no detectable meter.  The result is a near ominous tone which pushes vocalist David Condos’ vocal direction to the forefront.  Sonorous guitar tone, percussive whacks and memorable songwriting combine to make this Nashville band one to keep your finger on.         

 Song writing duties teeter between Condos and the group as a whole.  The songs written by the band maintain a richer personality and clearer identity than those written by Condos alone; an issue stemming, no doubt, from the fact that Condos’ has made a name for himself as a Nashville solo artist. The songs written by the band aren’t necessarily better songs, (Condos’ “Such Wondrous Light” is, after all, a highlight of the album,) but rather more collaborative in their tone and find Condos assuming a role within the band as opposed to surrounding himself with a band.  Though the more innovative song structures stem from these collaborative efforts, the resulting potpourri keeps the record engaging. 

 “Your Arrows” is a simply magnetic song combining indie-pop sensibility with romantic imagery. Here the band reflects on a lover pursued pining for the piercing arrows of the pursuer; whether the love is idyllic, platonic or spiritual is left ambiguous.  A continuation of the contrast surrounding this record, Milktooth captures beautifully both the exciting appeal and foreboding cost of the chase between lovers; an apt metaphor for a songwriter trying to assume a role within a band.

Baby Hooky

My first child is coming in about two months; sooner than that really.  So the time has come to start preparing for labor.  The hospital is not our first choice, but happens to be where our insurance coverage and doctor’s privileges happily coincide.  This hospital offers child birth courses; six hour-long sessions on consecutive Mondays.  On the afternoon of the first Monday, my wife and I unabashedly reneged.  We ditched the only real classes we’ve had to deal with in the past 5 years or so.

Over the past eight months I’ve observed a subtle tendency to treat pregnancy more as a sickness to be treated with commodities than a rite of passage into the next chapter of adulthood.  Complications notwithstanding, I tend to regard medicine and surgical intervention as something to be avoided.  The default setting of many obstetricians, however, appears to be a medicated, passive procedure in which a mother is little more than a client to be satisfied; the end result of which is a shiny, healthy attractive baby.   Now, hospitals are an obvious blessing and this observation is, admittedly, overly-cynical.  However, it does show an important contrast for a group of people called to live in Community.  

As an alternative to the hospital classes a good friend of ours teaches child-birthing classes came into our home, sat down with us and spoke with us in a very personal way about how the terrifying miracle of labor can be seen in light of God, family and community.  Her ministry to us was deeply human.  It was embodied; providing stretches, exercises and breathing techniques so that my wife and I can physically prepare for labor.  It was intellectually stimulating and provided information for us to mentally prepare for labor.  It was offered in a spirit of reassuring love and allowed us to emotionally and spiritually prepare not only for labor, but parenthood as well. 

 The witness of our friend taking time out of her busy schedule to come and embrace our pregnancy is a simple, yet stunning image of the community which will (hopefully) be the context of our child’s life.  There was a real cost for her to come and share her knowledge with us; she has three young children and a husband of her own.  Yet in doing so she showed real, practical love and sacrifice as opposed to a hospital’s class designed to ensure a procedure goes quickly and without complication.  Our classes had a depth and richness that stemmed from an understanding of Community which can continue long after birth, childhood and beyond.

Head Full of Flame

If you’ve not seen Roman Candle  live, you’ve cheated yourself.  Cutting folk imagery, explosive performance and the dynamics of real life (there’s a marriage at stake after all) gather together all of the necessary ingredients for a show that captures the spirit of independent music.  Supporting the recent release of “Oh Tall Tree in the Ear,” the band puts together a night of Americana that rocks hard and leaves an audience with the type of energy that causes one to say, “Yes. Oh, yes please.”

I recently had my Heart broken by an old white lady…

Here’s something satisfying to say,

“Oh, sure it’s a good movie, but…the book was better.”

I’ve seen an awful lot of movies, and am getting to the age where I realize most are simply book adaptations;  ”What do you mean ‘The Princess Bride is a book’?”  

Of all the film adaptions of books I’ve seen, good or bad, none has left me scratching my head more than Alfonso Cuaron’s 2006 adaptation of P.D. James‘ stunning novel, The Children of Men.  James, best known as a murder mystery author, takes a hard left into one of my personal favorite genres; the dystopian, ethical thriller.  The novel is dystopian in its premise; 2021 a.d., and the Human Race is infertile and helplessly dying out as society crumbles, government-sponsored “disposal” of the elderly is encouraged and suicide is rampant.  The novel is ethical, due to the running commentary on these horrors by protagonist, Dr. Theodore Faron; an apathetically content historian who’s marriage crumbled after inadvertently killing his young daughter.  

The story’s scope is massive in addressing the  ethics surrounding contemporary issues such as euthanasia, the dying, stewardship over the incarcerated and the right to reproduce.  And in a final scene, which brought my heart into my throat and prompted two full rereads, James casts the hope of Mankind in a way that parallels both the Biblical Incarnation at Bethlehem and the Glorious crushing at Calvary.  Get thee to the book store.

Cuaron’s film adaptation captures the dystopian element well; ghettos and civil war and all.  The ethical meat of this near apocalyptic tale, however, is thrown right out the window in favor of action, plot twists and the agonizingly nerve-racking juxtaposition of an infant and shrapnel.  The movie is so different from the book that the only real similarity is the premise of mankind’s loss of reproductive abilities.  The film is gorgeous and fun to watch for sure, but for a dramatic story that is as engaging to think about as it is to read, stick with Ms. P.D. James; God bless English, women authors.

Hardee’s is Horrible

123 Go! (There will be technical difficulties)

As this is my first blog there lies within me the temptation to make this initial post about that fact.  But I won’t.

I haven’t been in a Hardee’s for about six years.  Remember the old Hardee’s?  They had the Monster Burger.  It had about 2 pounds of meat, 10 pieces of bacon and cheese; lots of it.  But then around 2002 they went all Angus and got a new advertising campaign.  I’ve haven’t been back  since.

As far as I can tell Hardee’s new advertising campaign is limited to one of three themes:

1. Women are only sexual objects and isn’t the juxtaposition of their bodies with Hardee’s sandwhiches awesome?

2. Men who enjoy/know how to bake or make breakfast are gay and effeminate so don’t be a queer and come on down to Hardee’s.

3. Infidelity is hilarious and should be rewarded with cheap burgers because when your girlfriend finds out you cheated it’s going to be expensive.

I don’t know who does their advertising, but it’s a great bait and switch.  One might expect to go in and see angry models taking off their clothes while swarms of dudes drink beer and fight.  I think I prefer “da da da da da…I’m lovin’ it.”